#femlead

[my4ncy]

BABY IT'S YOU (A JAY HALSTEAD FANFIC)(REWRITE)

chloe bennet as amy hughes

MASTERLIST // BABY IT'S YOU (wattpad)

SEASON ONE — 1: the bull (4k) — 2: a curtain, radiator and paneled wall (3k) — 3: don’t let it get to you (3k) — 4: the protein bar (3k) — 5: she’s dead (3k) — 6: the fake proposal (5k) — 7: the bracelet (4k) — 8: marco (4k) — 9: bets (3k) — 10: it was the right thing to do (3k) — 11: i kissed him (6k) — 12: am and pm (3k) — 13: you stalking me now? (4k) — 14: i’m a cop, not a vigilante (3k) — 15: i’m done (4k)

SEASON TWO — 1: not yet (3k) — 2: roommates, shotguns and crushes (4k) — 3: we’re gonna get him (4k) — 4: i didn’t earn it for you — 5: maybe — 6: reminders — 7: amy, amelia — 8: — 9: — 10: — 11: — 12: — 13: — 14: — 15: — 16: — 17: — 18: — 19: — 20: — 21: — 22: — 23:

[my4ncy]

SHE’S DEAD

season one episode five

masterlist

BOXING WAS A GREAT WAY to release anger and Amy had plenty. Her aunt's death came between her and getting justice for her parents. It made her mad to think she wasn't gonna be found guilty over her crimes. Knowing she did it didn't feel like it was enough.

She wanted to sit in that courtroom and hear the judge give the verdict. For once, Amy wanted something to go her way. She repeatedly punched the heavy bag, trying to forget about her aunt and the trial.

It was Antonio who told her about the boxing gym. He thought it could help and it did.

He was there— just a few feet away, with Jay. They sipped their waters, taking a break.

"Have you talked to her?" Antonio asked Jay. He was sitting on the bench.

Jay glanced at Amy briefly. "No, not yet."

Antonio shook his head. "I can't imagine." They felt bad about the situation and wanted to do something, but they didn't know what. "My son's alive because of her. I feel like I should be doing something."

"Tell me about it."

Erin then walked over to them, introducing them to Hank's son. "Hey, guys," she greeted them first. "This is Antonio and Jay. I work with them. Antonio's buddy owns the gym, hence the thirty percent discount."

Antonio shot her a look at that. "Twenty. Nice try."

Jay decided to greet Justin. "How you doing?" But he was met with hostility. The Detective lowered his hand upon realizing Justin wasn't gonna shake it.

Amy looked over and watched the interaction. Erin quickly noticed her looking at them— or rather, she noticed the way she was looking at Justin.

Justin glanced at the Detectives one by one, and it was clear that he didn't want to be there. He didn't want to talk to them. He turned to Erin. "I gotta make some calls."

They watched their Sergeant's son leave. "He's like my little brother," Erin explained, trying to excuse his behavior somehow. "I'm just trying to keep him out of trouble."

Antonio nodded in understanding. "Good luck."

"Just give him a shot." Erin glanced behind Jay, her eyes briefly landing on Amy again. "You know, Voight asked me to befriend her and make her feel more included in the unit."

The other two Detectives looked at her in surprise. "Really?"

Erin nodded. "How are you gonna do that?" Jay asked.

She shrugged her shoulders. "I'm not sure." Erin wasn't sure she wanted to though, especially after seeing the way she looked at Justin. She wasn't sure what that was about, but she would soon find out.

Amy went back to the apartment and took a shower, getting ready for work. That morning she decided to go through the garage, since it meant dealing with fewer people.

As she approached the building, she spotted Jay and Erin, who just arrived. Ugh. She really didn't want to run into anyone.

"Hey, Amy," Erin caught up with her. "I gotta ask you something."

Amy stopped walking and turned to the two Detectives. "Yes?"

There was some hesitation on Erin's part, but she wasn't gonna back away. She could be straightforward. "I want to ask you about this morning at the gym, when Justin showed up."

"What about it?"

Jay was looking at Erin, mostly confused. Where was she going with this? Amy just wanted to get inside. "Well, I saw the way you looked at him, almost like he's a criminal."

Amy wanted to scoff at what she was hearing. "That's what he is," she replied casually with a small shrug. Even Jay didn't expect her to say it.

Erin was flabbergasted. "What?"

"What else do you call someone who drives under the influence and almost kills two people? He paralyzed a kid."

"He lost his mom." It was the only excuse Erin had for his actions

Amy turned to Jay. "Did you ever do what Justin did, Jason?"

A frown appeared on his face. "No, why?"

"So, losing your mom didn't make you break the law?" She let out a small hum. "Me neither. That's interesting." Amy turned to look at an annoyed Erin. "I sense this is going to be a whole thing, so..." she trailed off, as she turned and went into the building.

A scoff escaped Erin's lips as she watched the Detective disappear into the building. "Unbelievable," she muttered. What she didn't comment on though, was Jay's silence.

Once they gathered in the bullpen, the briefing started— the case was an interesting one. A young woman was found with coke-filled condoms in her stomach and one of them burst, so she had to be rushed to the hospital. From what they gathered, she was a drug mule and so were her friends. Problem was that her friends weren't found.

Jay put up three photos on the whiteboard. "So our girl in the E.R. is Amber Morris," he informed everyone. "Amber and her three friends here are all undergrads at Central Chicago University. This is who we're looking for."

Amy stood by the TV that the laptop was connected to. She had pulled up the woman's Facebook on the laptop and they were able to see it on the TV screen. "We checked Amber's Facebook page. There are pictures of them living it up in Cabo, but not just from this trip."

She reached down and pushed the arrow pointing to the right, moving to the next post. "Amber's been down there twice in the last three months."

"The first time, she did the run herself. This time, she recruited friends," Antonio spoke.

Hank was leaning against one of the desks with his arms crossed. "We gotta assume all these girls are mules and ingested the same type of balloons packed with coke."

Jin walked in. "You guys, I ran down those girls' addresses. All three live on campus."

Antonio stood. "We gotta move."

Amy grabbed her jacket from her chair. She gestured to Jay. "Let's go."

Jay liked to ride with Amy, because she let him drive. And this was the perfect opportunity to check on her. He kept glancing over at her as he drove. "How are you doing?"

She threw him a glance before looking at the road again. "I'm fine." The case was technically solved, so it didn't matter much that she was dead. At least that was what she tried to convince herself.

He didn't believe she was fine though. "It was on the news today. Her death has officially been ruled a suicide."

Amy let out a low hum, wanting to change the subject. "You see the murder that happened this morning? A man was found with his throat cut."

"No, I didn't see that." He pulled the car over.

"I went to the crime scene before hitting the gym. Homicide is gonna have their hands full with that one." They exited the car, walking side by side towards the building.

"You went to the crime scene?"

"I happened to drive by." Jay let out a small chuckle, shaking his head. They went into the building and no luck. The girls weren't there. Knowing Amber was the only one who could lead them to the girls, Hank sent Amy and Jay to talk to her at the hospital.

Once they found Amber's room, she stood by the end of her bed and he leaned against the wall behind her.

The brunette, lying in the hospital bed, didn't even lock eyes with either of the Detectives, looking away. "I can't believe I'm in here." Her arm was cuffed to the bed.

"I don't believe that," Amy deadpanned. "I think you knew the risks. You must have thought it over, before you got your friends involved. I don't think you did this on a whim."

Amber started shaking her head, tears gathering in her eyes. "That's not—"

"It is true, Amber," she was interrupted. "Whoever is behind this only cares about the drugs so as soon as they have their hands on it, your friends are dead."

"He wouldn't do that!" Amber cried out. "He loves me and I love him."

Amy shook her head. "He doesn't."

The younger woman didn't see a way out and gave in. She cried as she explained it to them. "I did it once, and it was fine. Then he promised my friends five grand each to go. It was my boyfriend's idea, him and his brother."

After getting all the information they could from Amber, they left her room.

"We're putting out an investigative alert on Sean and Brendan Collins," Amy told Hank and Antonio as she and Jay approached them. "They're the dealers we're looking for."

"Sean's the boyfriend," Jay added. "Amber says him and his brother, they hang out at a tattoo shop called Underground Ink. That's where they sling the product."

Hank gave them a nod. "Good work."

"I'll get Olinsky and Ruzek to set up on this tattoo shop," Antonio told Hank, as the other two Detectives headed out to drive back to the district.

Once in the bullpen, Amy went to her desk and found everything she could on the brothers and put it on the whiteboard. Their photos, names, and important information. She finished just as more of the unit arrived. "What do we got?" Hank asked her.

"The Collins brothers are known thugs from Bridgeport. They have records for armed robbery and aggravated battery."

Jay was leaning back in his chair. "So they've graduated to drug smuggling using naive college girls."

"There is a gap in the timeline between their previous convictions and this, so they may have committed drug-related offenses before and just not gotten caught until now."

"Had uniforms check their LKA's," Erin spoke. "These guys are in the wind."

"DMV came back that Brendan Collins owns a black Ford van," Antonio added.

Jin stood next to the Detective. "I'm assuming that these brothers are using throwaway phones now that they know Amber's been arrested."

"Keep digging," Hank ordered. "Give me any known associates." Amy went back to her desk and got to work.

It didn't take Jin long to track down the van. Unfortunately, a car chase ended with one of the suspects dead and the girls weren't found.

Antonio ducked under the tape with two evidence bags in his hand and approached his team. "He had a 9-mil and a throwaway phone. No trace of the coke or the girls."

Erin was especially mad over the situation. "So every second that goes by, the less chance those girls survive."

"We're all aware of that, Erin." Her head snapped in his direction, her eyes sharp.

Hank noticed the slight tension between the two Detectives. "Everyone stay cool. Get that phone over to Jin ASAP. Have him run the calls on it." He then turned to the two Rangers. "You two are coming with me."

"Where are you going?" Erin asked, her arms crossed.

"Higher up the family tree." Confused, the two Detectives followed their Sergeant. They didn't know why he needed them but went with him anyway.

Amy wasn't sure how to categorize the building that the Sergeant led them to. There was a bar, music playing softly in the background and older men playing pool.

Hank turned to the two Detectives as they slowly walked further into the room. "Just watch my back." He went up to the man playing pool. "Gavin Collins."

"Hank." He looked less than pleased to see the Sergeant. "We're in the middle of a game."

"Well, congratulations." Hank grabbed the small pile of money on the pool table and threw it at the man playing with Gavin. "You won."

Gavin watched Hank grab a cue, while the Detectives stood ready. "This morning, I had two nephews. You wanna explain that?" Behind him stood a man. He looked like a bodyguard and Amy kept an eye on him.

"Your nephews use girls to swallow cocaine and bring it up from Mexico. Brendan took us on a high-speed chase. He dug his own grave."

"Sorry. I ain't got time to talk. After this, I gotta go see my sister grieve." Gavin attempted to go back to the game. "So, take your college junkie whores and shove 'em up your ass."

The Detectives immediately turned to Hank, who they knew wouldn't react lightly to that comment. And they were right.

Hank slammed his cue on Gavin's hand, causing him to scream out in pain and fall to the ground. Soon Amy found out that her suspicions about the 'bodyguard' were right and she had been right about him being armed.

When she saw him step forward, Amy pointed her gun at him, stopping him in his tracks. "Stop right there! Hand it over." She held her hand out. "Hand it over!"

The man slowly grabbed his gun and handed it to her. She passed the weapon to Jay before pinning the man against the wall and keeping him there.

Hank went up to Gavin and kneeled next to him. He grabbed him by his collar and pulled him up slightly. "Your nephew Sean is out there right now with three kidnapped girls. Odds are they don't make it through the night if I don't find them." He proceeded to put the barrel of his gun in Gavin's mouth.

"He's got a stash out somewhere. You got three seconds to give me the address, or I'm gonna blow your brains all over the floor." He cocked the gun. "One.... two—"

Gavin then immediately gave in and told them the address. It was a warehouse.

The team barged in, Antonio first. "CPD!" He yelled out. "Half the swag from midway must be in here." Hank was walking behind him, the remaining Detectives behind him.

"Check the back," Hank told the Detectives, gesturing to the left. Jay made a turn, Amy and Erin following closely behind.

They made their way through the dark hallway, their guns raised and the flashlights on. Amy moved past them and opened the door, letting them enter.

The first thing they saw was a table to the left— on it, there were traces of cocaine, some plastic bags, and a container. They were definitely in the right place. The three moved further in, and that was when they spotted blood on the ground.

They moved their flashlights up, following the blood stains. A woman was lying there with her stomach cut open. She was dead. They were too late.

Erin's face fell at the sight and Jay was visibly distraught by what was in front of them. "Megan Benson," he muttered, recognizing the young woman.

Amy holstered her weapon and grabbed her radio. "Sergeant, we found one of the girls, Megan Benson. She's dead." She walked up to the deceased body, looking into her stomach. Whoever cut her, wasn't a professional and they clearly cut into the condoms that held the cocaine. It said a lot about their killer.

While Amy observed the body, Erin was doing the same with her. She didn't understand how she wasn't phased. She never was.

Hank called it in and ordered everyone to meet outside. "Girl was 19. Still in school. What a waste," he said angrily as they exited the building.

"Why do only one? Where's the other two?" Jay questioned.

"Clearly Collins decided he had to prove himself, that he could do this without his brother, but he's not a professional and he cut into the condoms," Amy spoke, based on her observations. The team stopped walking and turned to each other. "There are more people involved in this and they got the girls."

Antonio nodded in agreement. "Collins can't afford to do that to the other two. That's thousands of dollars out the window."

Hank was looking down at his phone. He then turned to the team. "Look, I got some business to take care of. See if Jin's got anything yet, all right?"

The team went back to the district, where Jin was waiting in the bullpen. "I was able to obtain subscriber info for all calls from Brendan's cellphone that you found in his van," he informed them. He handed out a document to each Detective.

Jin went and stood by the whiteboard. "Only two numbers. First, to Sean's prepaid cell, which has since gone dead. I was able to track it to a dumpster on Ashland. Second, six calls to this guy." He pointed at one of the men on the board. "Ryan Porter."

Amy found the name Ryan and read the file. "Male, white, 26. Long sheet for possession. Worked as a paramedic for three different ambulance companies, fired from all of them." Everything about him seemed to make sense with the case. "I know that M.O."

"Me too," Antonio stated. "Ten to one Porter's a play doctor. Busted a few when I worked Vice. EMT's who work for private ambulance companies. They barely make 10 bucks an hour."

"So the ones who wanna make extra cash sometimes provide under-the-table services, like patching up gangbangers," Amy continued.

Antonio nodded. He turned to Jin. "Forward Porter's picture to Olinsky ASAP." With that, they went back to work.

////

ONCE ALVIN AND ADAM spotted their suspect with the girls, they called the team. Although they moved in before the rest of the unit arrived, they managed to save the girls, and arrests were made.

Sean was handcuffed and Alvin was holding him by his shirt, pulling him along. "Move!"

When Erin saw him, she uncrossed her arms and went up to him— angry. "Hey! You think you're ever gonna forget what you did to those girls? I guarantee you that will not happen, Collins!"

Jay quickly pulled her back as Hank stared Sean down. "I'll make sure this guy gets buried."

Amy didn't move from her position, still standing by the ambulance. She watched as the two men were put in the car.

From a few feet away, Erin stood and eyed the Detective, which Jay noticed. "What's up?"

Erin shook her head slightly. "Not sure yet." She watched the Detective leave, wondering how she was gonna befriend her like Hank had asked her to do— more so wondering if she was willing to do that.

[my4ncy]

THE BULL

season one episode one

masterlist

AMY HAD BEEN WITH the Intelligence unit for two months. After arresting her aunt for her parents' murders, she gained the attention of one Sergeant Hank Voight. He wanted her in his unit— obviously, he saw something in her.

She moved from New York to Chicago, which was a big change— a lot to get used to. It took her a few weeks to find a place and get settled and a month to learn her way around the city.

The first day was the worst, having to meet people. Ugh. She didn't know anyone besides Jay, whom she served with in the Rangers. They used to be very close, but hadn't seen each other in years.

Amy had walked into the bullpen, shaken each hand, and introduced herself, saying 'good to meet you' and 'pleasure to meet you.'

When she approached Jay, she gave him a small nod and shook his hand, 'Jason.' Yeah, she used his full name.

She had worked in the unit for 2 months and during that time she kept things professional. The conversations were short, especially if they weren't work-related. Amy wasn't interested in being anyone's friend and she made that clear. Her goal was to do her job, solve the case, and go home.

Her unit tried to befriend her, especially Jay, but Amy was closed off. Eventually, people stopped trying.

The only person who never tried to get close was Trudy— she avoided the Detective like the plague. Ironically, she found Amy to be antisocial and cold, sometimes blunt.

Amy stood in the break room, pouring herself a cup of coffee. The package was positioned on the kitchen counter, in the corner. 'Oscar's coffee,' was written on it, right above the smaller text that read 'dark roast.' It was her favorite.

She grabbed her cup, just as Erin and Jay walked in. "Morning," Amy muttered, walking past her coworkers, who greeted her back before going to the coffee pot.

Erin watched Amy leave, her eyes following her to her desk. She then turned to face Jay, her partner. "Seriously, what's her deal?"

"What do you mean?"

She raised an eyebrow, pouring coffee for herself and her partner. "Come on, we've worked together for two months now. I don't think I've heard her say anything about herself. I don't think I've seen her smile."

Jay shrugged slightly. "She's just focused on the job." Truth is, he hadn't been able to get through to her either.

"And the scar?" The second they met Amy, they noticed the cut on her throat. It was unavoidable.

"I don't know how she got it."

Erin sighed. "Aren't you curious? I am."

"Then you ask her." She shot him a look, knowing she wasn't close enough to Amy to ask personal questions, but no one was.

Amy sat at her desk— hers was next to Erin and across from Jay. She turned on her computer, sipping her coffee. Soon, she was joined by the rest of the team.

Everyone sat at their desks, Officers Burgess and Atwater stood by the entrance with Hank.

"Now, I got a name on those dope tests. It's a dealer named Rev on South Emerald. As soon as Olinsky gets here—"

"Over here." Alvin leaned back on his chair with a banana in his hand, making himself visible. "Hey."

Hank looked over at his old friend. "Hey, Alvin."

"Hank." Alvin gave him a slight nod.

The Sergeant turned the attention back to the case again. "We are gonna set up a controlled buy, Halstead and Lindsay in the doorway. Do not go inside."

Erin was leaning against her desk. She nodded, understanding the order. "Got it."

Hank glanced around at the Officers and Detectives. "All right, one more thing." He went and stood on the other side— in front of his office, between Amy and Jay's desks. "We've been doing this, what? Two months? Now more than ever, we keep everything in-house. Understand? I don't care how they run other departments or how you came up. This is Intelligence. My unit. You tell me the truth so that I can lie for you. And if you ever go over my head, it'll be the last head you go over. Everybody goes home tonight. Gear up."

Amy chugged down the last drops of her coffee, before getting up and following the unit down to the garage. They got their vests on and made sure their guns were loaded and ready.

Jay kept glancing over at his old friend as she got her vest on, watching as she holstered her gun. "Hey." He walked up to her.

"Hi." Her brows furrowed, as she wondered what he was gonna say to her. "What's up, Jason?"

He hated being called Jason and he had told her not to call him that, but she told him that Jay was a nickname and only friends used nicknames. "You wanna go out? After shift?"

She was surprised by how direct he was— in previous times they would dance around the topic, hint at it. "I don't like going out, but you know that."

"Okay, how about my place? Or yours?"

Jay seemed determined about it, which confused her. Why did he want to hang out with her so much? Amy nodded slightly. "All right. Your place."

He was happy with the answer. "Good."

She eyed him. "You gonna report back to Lindsay?"

It was his time to be confused. He frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I heard you talking in the break room."

"From your desk?" He raised an eyebrow.

Amy nodded. "You talk loud." Before Jay could respond to that, Hank ordered everyone to move out.

Everyone spread out as Jay and Erin went up to the apartment. Amy sat in her car alone, her radio in her hand. She was parked a good distance away from the building, just enough to see the two Detectives.

Jay and Erin went and stood outside Rev's apartment. Amy could hear him pounding on the door through the radio. "Rev! Open up!"

An unknown male voice came through the radio— a neighbor. "Hey! Do you mind keeping it down?"

"Am I banging on your door?" Jay retorted. "No? Then go back inside." He pounded on the door again. "Rev, open up!"

"I'm going out on a limb here," Antonio spoke into the radio. "Rev might not be home."

"Come on, man." Jay kept pounding on the door. Amy didn't look away, watching as the door swung open.

"What?" It was a man's voice. He had an accent.

"Yeah, uh, is- is Rev here?" Jay sounded taken aback.

"No, so quit pounding on the door."

Jay stopped the stranger from closing the door in their faces. "Hey, man. Yo, my girl, she's going into rehab tomorrow. Wants to go out with a bang tonight. Rev usually hooks me up."

There was a pause before Jay spoke again. "Have you been to rehab, man? It sucks."

The man bought the act. "Come in."

"We'll come back when Rev's here," Erin announced, stopping Jay from entering. Something was up.

Jay didn't break character. "You've been up my ass for two hours about scoring some H."

"Well, I changed my mind."

"Mujeres," Jay said in Spanish. "Right?" The door closed shut. He and Erin left the apartment and met up with the rest of the unit.

"It looked like blood," Erin explained. She had seen something red on the man's leg. "That and the fact that we don't know that guy."

"You don't have to justify it," Hank told her. "If you got a bad hit, you got a bad hit. Let's go in."

"No, 'cause maybe it looked like blood?" Jules spoke up. Her arms were crossed. "That's not probable cause to force an entry."

Antonio sided with his partner. "He could've been marinating a chicken and spilled barbecue sauce on his pants."

"We've got three ODs traced back to the heroin Rev's moving," Hank reminded them. "You want to wait for another kid to die?"

"We'll do a knock and talk," Alvin suggested. "All right? Whoever's in control of the apartment gets all squirrelly, we'll take it from there. All right?"

They decided to go with Alvin's plan and headed toward the building.

"Barbecue sauce as a marinade. What is that, some kind of Puerto Rican thing or something?" Hank questioned as he walked alongside Antonio, who quickly corrected him.

"I'm Dominican."

"It's got too much sugar in it. It'll burn the meat." They didn't get much further than that before shots were fired in their direction. They got their guns out and ducked behind the cars.

Antonio grabbed his radio. "10-1! Shots fired at the police! 10-1! 5600 Emerald! Plainclothes officers at the scene!"

"Get the long guns!" Hank ordered.

Amy and Jay ran to the car to grab the guns. With the weapons in their hands, they got to the building. One after one, they made their way up the stairs.

They positioned themselves outside the door, telling some of the other residents to get back inside. They had heard some noises and gone outside to check it out.

Alvin waited for Hank's signal before kicking the door open. He stepped back, and the rest entered with their weapons drawn. "Police! Clear!"

Jules cleared the next room. Amy made her way past her and found the bathroom. There was a man's decapitated body on the floor, leaning against the bathtub. The head was in the sink. "Body!"

The team made their way to the living room area. Besides the body that Amy found, there was nothing. "That's Rev in the bathroom," Amy told them, holstering her gun.

Antonio approached Hank. "Offender must've booked."

Hank grabbed his radio. "Call it in. Clear the rest of the building. Shooter's in the wind."

Amy reached for her gun when she heard the noise. It was very small, and she almost missed it. She glanced over at the closet door where she heard the noise coming from. She pulled out her gun. "Sergeant, the closet."

Hank stood next to her, so he heard her when she spoke in a low voice. He glanced between her and the closet, a small frown on his face. "I didn't hear anything."

Then a sound came from the closet, getting everyone's attention. "Heard that," Antonio muttered.

Jules rushed over and grabbed the door handle, as everyone aimed at the closet, not knowing what was behind it.

The blonde opened it, revealing a young boy sitting in there with his hands up in the air.

She and Antonio questioned him in the interrogation room when they got back to the district. He didn't see any of the men, or understand what they were saying since they spoke Spanish, but he did get something. A name.

One that Antonio and Jules were familiar with. They were only sure it was the right person when Erin identified him as the person who had opened the door earlier. "That's him."

"Adres Diaz," Antonio started. He wrote the name on the whiteboard. "Aka, Pulpo. The octopus. He's got dual citizenship here and in Colombia."

He got the photo back from Erin and taped it on the whiteboard next to the other one. "Me and Jules had him on our radar five years back when he was working his way up from street enforcer."

Hank was leaning against a cabinet, behind Jay's desk. "Yeah, I remember his name. Didn't he beat a double-murder rap?"

"The two key witnesses were killed," Jules answered.

"Was he cutting off heads back then too?" Amy asked, her arms crossed. She stood next to Jay's desk.

"No. He learned a thing or two since he was in Colombia."

"What kind of player was he?" Jay asked. "What part of the city did he hold down?"

"Oh, see, that's the thing. He wasn't affiliated with any faction," Antonio answered. "Nobody knew his real script. He was just in it for the money and the blood."

"Okay. You two," Hank pointed at Jay and Antonio, "in my office."

////

ONCE HANK GOT AN ADDRESS from a CI, the unit headed down there.

Antonio went up to the door, Jay trailing behind him. He pounded on the wood. "Eric Cooper! Hey, Coop, open up!"

Jay looked at the doorframe, getting closer to have a look. "Pry marks." Behind him stood Jules and Erin, by the gate, in front of Amy and Hank.

The Sergeant saw Jay turn to him, waiting for an order.

"Breach." Jay aimed his shotgun and shot the lock. He kicked the door open, allowing Antonio to enter with his weapon drawn.

"Police! Clear!"

Amy got her gun and entered after Erin, the unit moved through the house. It was empty. Besides the decapitated head on the counter, there was nobody there.

Blood was dripping down the kitchen counter, and the rest of the body was on the kitchen floor. They all stared at it. Hank put his gun away, pissed that they didn't find him. "Next head I see better be Pulpo's."

When they got back to the district, Antonio updated the whiteboard, adding Cooper to it. They had two dead bodies and still no clue where Pulpo and his men were.

"There were calls between Rev and Coop yesterday, and only one other number called them both," Amy informed Hank as soon as she got off the phone. "It's a pay-as-you-go drop phone. No signal, but it was purchased at a cell store in Greektown."

Hank nodded. "Take Halstead, check it out."

Jay got to drive down to the store, which made him happy. When he was partnered with Erin, she always drove. Amy didn't mind having him behind the wheel.

He parked the car by the curb, some feet away from the store. They talked about the case a bit, but other than that it was silent.

They got out of the car, passing by some guys. When they were close to the store, one of the guys decided to hit on Amy. "Shake it, baby."

The comment did stop her in her tracks, but she ignored it and kept walking. "Watch yourself," Jay warned him. The guy just made a sarcastic comment in response.

They went inside to talk to the employee. "Juan Garcia," he told them. "Yesterday, paid cash."

Amy wrote the name down on her notepad. "Is there any more information you can provide us with?"

"No. We are not responsible for background checks." When she heard the tone he used, Amy looked up from her notepad.

Jay watched as she put away the notepad, leaned on the counter, and put her hands together. They worked together in the bullpen and had gone out in the field together, but this was the first time they were partnered together. He had never seen her question someone before.

She held firm eye contact with the tall man. "We are not here over a stolen pack of gum, but a double homicide. That's two people who have been decapitated." The fear was clear in the man's eyes. "There's a surveillance camera behind you, five inches to the right."

Looking at the spot, Jay saw the camera. He hadn't noticed and wondered how she did. She hadn't looked around.

"I suggest you get us that footage," Amy continued. "Or come with us down to the district and answer questions there. I'm sure being taken away in handcuffs won't hurt your business."

The man started nodding. "Fine."

"How kind of you," Jay replied sarcastically, as the man rushed off to get them what she asked for.

He turned to his partner, visibly impressed by what he witnessed. "How did you know the camera was there?"

"I saw it when we walked in." Amy was looking at the bags on the top shelf— they were nice and she needed a new gym bag.

He let out a small chuckle— it seemed so obvious when she said it, but he still hadn't seen it. Jay noticed her looking at the bags. "See something you like?"

"Yeah," she muttered.

The man then returned, placing a CD on the counter. "Here you go. Video surveillance from the last 24 hours."

Amy hummed. "Since we're here, I'd like that bag behind you." She looked at the price. "17,99."

She really must have scared him, because he turned and quickly grabbed it. Pulling out her money clip, Amy handed him a 20. "Keep the change."

Grabbing the CD and the bag, Amy followed Jay out of the store. As they approached the car, the sound of glass breaking caught their attention. It was a beer bottle. The guy from earlier threw it in their direction.

The two Detectives looked over at the guy. "Why don't you bring that ass to my place sometime, girl?”

Comments like that didn't affect Amy much, except they were annoying. Did the idiot think he could talk to a cop like that and get away with it? Then, obviously, he didn't know Jay.

He may not have talked to or seen Amy in years, but they used to have a tight bond. She saved his life, they told each other a lot. So, hearing the way that stranger was talking to her made him mad.

Jay gave his gun and badge to Amy. "You don't have to," she told him.

Jay turned to her. He didn't have to say anything, she understood that she couldn't change his mind. He was protective, and he was gonna protect.

He approached the guy. "Come here a sec."

The guy took a few steps. "Nah, you're just trying to get me with assaulting a Police Officer."

"Do you see a badge on me?" The fight ended as soon as it started.

Jay punched him in the face and kneed him in the groin and then the face. The guy didn't even get a punch in and he ended up on the ground. "Anybody else?"

His friends were smart. They weren't gonna go up against cops, backing away.

Amy handed Jay his badge and gun as they headed back to the car.

As soon as they got back to the district, she went to her desk and started viewing the footage. They knew when the phone was bought, so she just skipped to that time frame and found a man buying a phone. It must have been their guy.

Amy got a photo of the man, and in addition to printing out the photo, she ran it through their database. Luckily for them, he had a criminal record and she was able to ID him.

Grabbing the photo from the printer, Amy put it up on the whiteboard and wrote his name above it. "The Bull you see in the photo is Omar Rojas. He's a freelance hitman." She went to her desk, taking her seat.

"So, Rev was the boss, Coop moved the merchandise. Who's the next in the chain of command?" Hank questioned.

"Well, that was the problem," Jules replied. "Rev was only in town from Baton Rouge for a year. There was no structure to his crew."

"And nobody's talking?"

"Nope."

"All right, when Olinsky gets here—"

"I'm right here." Alvin rolled his chair back so Hank could see him.

"Anything from your CI's?"

"No dice. Something about not wanting to have their heads chopped off."

"All right, get Rojas' image out there with Pulpo's citywide. All airports, train and bus stations. Keep hitting the bushes."

Amy rolled her chair closer to her desk and got right to work— making sure the photo got released to the public.

Erin made a gesture to Hank, letting him know they had a visitor. Belden stood there with his hand on his hip. He followed Hank to his office as the rest of the unit kept working.

////

AFTER SHIFT, Amy went to Jay's apartment as promised. She hadn't hung out with him or anyone in a long time, so she was wondering what they could possibly talk about.

She only knew him in the Rangers prior to working together, so being in his apartment was new. His home.

Jay opened the door wide, giving her space to enter. "Come in." He smiled at her as she walked in, closing the door behind her.

Amy's eyes wandered around the small apartment— it wasn't what she expected. "Take a seat. You want anything to drink?"

She looked over her shoulder, shaking her head. "I'm good." Amy went over and took a seat on the couch.

Jay joined her and it was once he sat down that he noticed the plastic bag in her hand. She put it on the couch next to her. His brows furrowed. "What do you have there?"

"I stopped by a bookstore on the way." Amy pulled the book out of the bag, so he could have a look.

Seeing the name on the cover brought back some memories. A small chuckle escaped his mouth. "You still read Hemingway?"

"Of course," she responded with a nod, before she put the book back into the bag. Amy turned to the side to face Jay, so she wouldn't have her back to the door. "Why did you invite me?"

Jay was taken aback by the question. "Because you're my friend and I hadn't seen you in years before you joined Intelligence." He shrugged his shoulders. "I missed you. We've never really hung out like this. It's always been work-related."

"What do you want to learn, Jason?"

"What do you mean?" He was genuinely confused. She had changed since the last time they saw each other, but he didn't know why.

She wasn't sure what his intentions were. "You're not the first. People are always sure there is something wrong with me, so they try to get to know me, so they can figure it out— figure me out. So they can... fix me." Amy thought back to previous coworkers— the people she worked with in New York.

Jay didn't know where she was coming from with that, but he didn't judge. He became worried. "It's not like that, Ames. I just want us to be friends again. The whole unit wants that."

Amy figured she had shared plenty, and decided to open up about something she hadn't told anyone. Talking to Jay was easy. "My unit died, Jason. They were all killed." He stared back at her in shock. "I'm in no hurry to befriend this one."

"I'm sorry." He didn't know what else to say, too shocked by what she told him. Jay thought back to what she had said earlier, about Erin. "I'm not gonna tell anyone."

She knew she didn't have to ask. Nodding, a small smile tugged at her lips. "Thanks." Looking into her eyes, Jay saw something he hadn't seen in the last two months— that small spark was still there.

////

JAY FELT GOOD GOING TO WORK the following day. He knew him and Amy didn't have the friendship they used to have, but it was a start. He walked into the bullpen that morning with two coffees, putting one on Amy's desk, before going to his.

This gesture got Amy's attention. She glanced at the hot beverage on her desk, before looking over at Jay. He had a smile on his face, shrugging lightly.

The feeling she got was familiar, but she couldn't name it. She knew it took her back to the Rangers, where she didn't want to go back to.

Jules and Antonio questioned a suspect that morning and they managed to get some answers— and a name. Shane Cameron.

Shane had been in hiding since the previous day, which made him look good for their murders. They had an address linked to his name, which would be worth checking out. After vesting up, the unit headed down there.

Amy entered the building with Jules and Antonio, while the rest of the unit waited outside. Hank left a message for Belden, so he wanted to be outside when he got there.

The three Detectives made their way up the stairs.

"2B?" Jules asked.

Antonio was close behind her. "Yeah." They found the right apartment very quickly— it was on the second floor.

There was a flight of stairs on the right side of the door. Amy went and stood on the first step, before leaning her back against the wall and moving her left leg to the second step. She got her gun and gripped it with both hands as she glanced around. There was no one else in the hallway.

Jules stood in front of the door, and Antonio stood behind her, at the top of the staircase.

She knocked on the door.

"Terminate," Hank radioed Antonio, the two other Detectives looking over at him. "Pull back. Targets may be in the building."

Amy turned her head when she heard a creaking noise, followed by something else. A sound she had heard many times before— a gun being cocked. She looked at the blonde Detective. "Get down."

Before she could respond or before they could react, a loud bang echoed through the hallway, and Jules went down with a loud thud. A hole was left in the door where the bullet went through.

Antonio instinctively went down and pulled Jules back. His body was filled with panic as he grabbed his radio. "10-1! Officer shot!"

Amy looked over at the blonde— she had been shot in the chest. "I'm going in." She stepped down and kicked the door open, before stepping inside with her gun raised. Amy quickly made her way through the apartment.

When she entered the last room, her eyes landed on the open window. The shooter must have escaped through it. Her suspicion was proven correct when she looked through and spotted a black-haired man on the fire escape.

He was too far down, so Amy quickly radioed the unit, telling them Pulpo had escaped from the apartment building.

Amy put her gun away and went out to the hallway. Antonio was putting pressure on Jules' gunshot wound. It didn't look good.

When the ambulance arrived, Amy helped Antonio, Erin, and Hank carry Jules out of the building and onto the stretcher.

Erin got into the ambulance, and they rushed to the hospital. They did find Pulpo, but unfortunately, Jules didn't survive the gunshot.

Antonio lost his partner. But before he could even process that, he got a call from his wife.

Their son was taken

[my4ncy]

WE’RE GONNA GET HIM

season two episode three

masterlist

SIRENS COULD BE HEARD in the distance, which meant the ambulance was close. Jay handed Amy another towel, upon seeing the first was soaked in blood.

She pressed the second towel over the first, keeping steady pressure on the wound. After a moment, she shifted her hand slightly, testing the angle— then pressed down harder when the bleeding slowed.

Jay kept reassuring the injured woman that she was going to fine and told her to hold on. His eyes were wide in panic.

Soon enough, two paramedics rushed over, one of them carrying a backboard.

"We got it from here," the female paramedic told Amy and took over, applying pressure like she had just done.

Jay and Erin helped get Maddie on the backboard, before they carried her into the ambulance, watching as they rushed her to the hospital.

Amy turned to Jay, seeing the clear panic in his eyes. He was shaken by what just happened and she knew he was already blaming himself. "We're gonna get him," she told him.

They soon went to the district and she went with them. She entered the locker room that she was very familiar with and washed her hands in the sink. The blood was almost dry, so it was difficult to wash it off, but she got most of it.

She then had a talk with Hank, explaining what had happened, insisting on being part of the investigation. "I'd like to see this one through, Sergeant."

Hank had nodded. "Alright." He had been hoping that she would return to Intelligence, which was part of the reason he hadn't filled her spot yet.

By the next morning, the Intelligence unit were up to speed on the situation.

Amy pulled Jay into the locker room, wanting to talk to him. Hank thought he'd take it better if it came from her and she didn't mind.

She sat on the bench, between the lockers. "Voight wants you here," she told him. "At the district."

A scoff left his mouth. At this point, the panic was replaced by anger. "I'm not gonna sit on my ass when the shooter is still out there!"

"If you go out there, you'll be joining Maddie," she spoke, calmly. Her words made him freeze. He turned to face her again. "And none of us want that. Do you?"

He let out a sigh, shaking his head. "No," he muttered.

"If the target was on my back, what would you tell me to do?" That got him.

Jay approached, slowly sitting down next to her. "I'd tell you to stay here, where it's safe."

Amy nodded, her gaze steady. "Exactly. And that's what I want for you, Jay. You're not going anywhere out there until we catch this guy."

He ran a hand over his face, swallowing the tension. "The bullet was meant for me." He shook his head. "It's my fault."

"No, it isn't. The shooter is the only one at fault here and he's not going to get away with it."

Jay exhaled slowly, the tight coil in his chest loosening just a little. "Alright."

Amy gave a small, determined nod. "Good. Then let's get to work." She stood. "Let's go." She held out her hand, offering it to him.

He looked up, meeting her gaze. A small smile tugged at his lips— quiet, almost shy, but full of relief. Jay took her hand, letting her pull him up. He didn't let go, until they left the locker room, finding a measure of calm in the simple connection between them.

When they entered the bullpen, Hank was there, along with Erin and Antonio.

"So you knew the victim?" The Sergeant asked Jay.

"Maddie Callahan. She worked there," Jay responded, as he went to his desk. Amy went and stood by him.

"No I.D. on the shooter?"

Erin shook her head. "No, patrol's going door to door in the neighborhood looking for witnesses."

Antonio got off the phone, before approaching Jay's desk, giving the Detective a, somewhat, stern look. "That was the hospital. Your friend's in ICU, but she's alive."

Jay nodded slightly. "Thanks."

"Hey, it's not your fault."

Antonio meant it and Jay could tell.

"Someone needs to talk to Bembenek," Antonio told Hank, as Jay sat down.

"Oh, Olinsky's already on that."

Kevin and Adam walked in, both with news on the case. "A black Arcadia was found abandoned in Englewood. It matches the description of the getaway vehicle, but there's no prints. They torched it."

"White male just checked into a South Side clinic about a half hour ago, two bullet wounds."

Hank nodded. He knew that Amy had seen the shooter and decided to send her. "Hughes and Lindsay, get on it."

Amy gave a small nod, already moving toward the exit, glancing back at Jay. He stayed at his desk, watching her, tension still lingering in his shoulders— but there was trust in his eyes.

The two Detectives soon arrived at the clinic.

Inside, a man caught their attention. He had his jacket draped over his shoulder and tried to turn away as soon as he saw them. He was definitely their guy.

They already had his ID. "Not so fast, Donald," Amy called.

He froze and turned toward them. "Do I know you?"

The Detectives flashed their badges, closing the distance. "What did you get treated for?" Amy asked, testing him.

Donald tried to sidestep, but Amy blocked him. Erin yanked the jacket off his shoulder, revealing two bullet wounds in his back.

"I accidentally thumbed the trigger," Donald stammered. Erin held up two fingers to Amy—two wounds. "Pow," she said.

Amy's glare sharpened. "Twice in the back?"

Erin tossed the jacket at Donald and stepped next to Amy.

"He's not the shooter," Amy murmured, then turned back to Donald. "My guess is you were the getaway driver. So, tell us who took shots at Police Officers."

Donald's eyes widened, nodding. "It's true. I just drove. And I sure as hell didn't know a cop was the target."

"You have two options, Donald," she said evenly. "Cooperate, tell us who the shooter is, play the oblivious driver and maybe get minimal time. Or we wait for those bullets to be processed, match them to a police firearm, and charge you with attempted murder."

Fear overtook him. "His name is Karl Forsman," he blurted.

Once they had the name, Erin texted it to Hank.

They started heading back to the district, Amy in the passenger seat. The city passed by in a blur, the hum of the engine filling the quiet.

"I've been thinking about leaving Homicide," Amy blurted out, her eyes fixed on the street.

Erin glanced at her, surprised, a small smile tugging at her lips. "You miss us?"

"It's different there," Amy replied, ignoring the question. "I still haven't really gotten used to it."

Leaning back, Erin let out a sigh. "Well... I know the unit hasn't been the same since you left. I think we'd all like it if you came back."

Amy remained quiet, letting Erin's words hang in the air, the thought settling somewhere deep.

Once they arrived at the district, they entered through the front, walking past Trudy's desk. The Sergeant saw the Detectives. "Hughes, hold on."

She stopped at the mention of her name, turning to face the Sergeant. "Yes?" Erin stopped in her tracks too, curious as to what the older woman wanted to say.

"Just wanted to apologize for before." Trudy didn't give it much effort, barely looking from her desk, but Amy didn't want to stand there and talk to her any longer than necessary, so she just accepted it.

Amy gave a small nod, not bothering to respond, before following Erin upstairs. At least she had apologized and they could move on from the incident.

The rest of the unit was already there.

There had been a murder.

A sixteen-year-old girl was shot and killed. Hank had called Erin and informed her when they were driving back, so they knew what to expect when they walked into the room.

Kim and her new partner, Sean, were there too. And she looked a bit too excited when Amy walked in. Although, she tried to suppress it, it didn't go unnoticed by some of the people in the room.

Kevin stood by the whiteboard. He put up the photo of the victim on it, along with her name— Dora Kot. Besides that, a picture of Bembenek, the board was empty.

"Doubling up on squad cars in front of all the homes of the people involved in the Bembenek trial," he said. "There's judges, lawyers, clerks."

Amy moved to her desk, her eyes flicking to Jay. He was clearly pissed— jaw tight, shoulders tense. And still blaming himself, and wanting nothing more than to interrogate their suspect. But he couldn't.

Alvin was standing by his desk. "Bembenek anticipated that. That's why he's going after their family members."

"Two taps to the head without an eye witness. That was a professional hit," Antonio stated.

Amy nodded slightly, agreed with the conclusion. "And we have no idea how many people are on this list?"

"No," Hank replied. That seemed to make Jay even more angry. They had no idea how many people were targeted.

"Hey, everyone." They turned when they heard Adam's voice. He stood by Antonio's desk, a blonde woman in uniform was next to him. "This is Sheriff Charlene Radigan. She helped me secure phone recordings Bembenek made on a cook county landline."

"Most of the calls are in Polish. Inmates switch to their native tongues all the time when they try to cover up what they're talking about," Charlene added.

"So we're going to need a translator." Adam turned to Hank, his hands on his hips. "Forsman kid flipped, right? You think he'd... you think he'd do it?"

Hank backed away from Jay's desk. "He'll paint my house if I want him to. He's in here." He was already walking toward the hallway.

Charlene exchanged a few words with Adam before following Hank.

The suspect gave them the initials JP, having heard it on a phone call. Hank and Alvin quickly put together that JP was Joe Price.

While they were still speaking with him, Kevin called in from a crime scene.

Another victim.

The mother of the judge in the Bembenek case had been murdered.

Two people were killed and they hadn't gotten closer to finding the people responsible or finding the list.

Fortunately, Joe was willing to make a deal and cooperate. He was going to call Patrick Shostak and set a meet.

Amy spent a lot of hours tracing phone calls in the first few weeks of working in the Homicide unit and it was going to come in handy. Hank asked her into the interrogation room and set her up with the right equipment to track the call.

She sat by the table, the equipment in front of her.

Joe stood in front of her.

Hank stood, leaning against the wall, and Alvin was sitting close to Amy.

"You're never going to be able to trace a call from him," Price informed them, sounding very sure of himself. "He goes from one drop phone to another. I don't know why you're bothering."

Amy looked up at the older man. "Let us worry about that." Joe looked away, nodding slightly, still skeptical. She held up the phone once it started ringing. "Sergeant."

It was Shostak.

Joe took the phone and answered the call, just as Jay walked in. He stood by, wanting to listen to the conversation. "Hello."

"JP?" A person replied.

"What's up, Shostak? I have something you may want."

"I want a lot of things."

"Halstead."

"My understanding is you turned down this contract." The man on the phone had an accent.

"And I heard they offered you a lot more money than me. I want half."

"Or what?"

"Or I let him go. And you better think quick. The dilaudid I pumped into him's going to wear off soon."

"1/3rd."

Joe paused for a moment. "Okay. I'll take care of it, I'll bring you a photo for proof."

"No, no, no, no, no. Just because I'm talking to you doesn't mean I trust you. I want to see him alive."

Hank shook his head immediately, not wanting to risk the life of one of his members.

Joe didn't see this though, because he was looking at Jay, who had the opposite reaction. He saw the opportunity and nodded, giving Joe a thumbs up.

He had to do this.

"Deal." Hank's face dropped as he turned to face the Detective, knowing exactly what had happened. Amy looked at him too, but she wasn't surprised. She knew Jay.

"Highway between Cermak and Kedzie. 30 minutes."

As soon as the phone call ended, Jay walked out of the interrogation room. His mind was made up and there was no changing it.

The rest of the unit followed him into the bullpen. Amy went to her desk as the rest tried to talk Jay out of going. It was way too risky.

"There's too many risks," Antonio told Jay, once they stood in the bullpen.

Jay went to his desk. "There's always risks."

"Jay, you'd be in the car with a hitman," Erin reminded him, moving to stand in front of him.

"Who's retired, and who we made a deal with."

"Because that changes everything," she remarked.

"We don't know how many people Bembenek wants dead!" He snapped back. Erin gave him a look, silently asking if he had just yelled at her. He went over to the whiteboard, slapping the surface. "Isn't this enough?"

Amy watched him from his desk, observing him as he approached Hank. "Sarge. Sarge, I will sign whatever I have to sign saying I went on my own free will, that I wasn't ordered. That'll release the city from all liability. I don't have any beneficiaries anyway. I signed that form the day I graduated from the academy, right before they pinned a badge on my chest."

A pause lingered in the room as they waited for Hank to respond. The tension felt thick, as the unit realized they couldn't say anything to change Jay's mind.

Then he nodded. "Alright. I want everyone downstairs in five minutes."

Amy followed the unit down to the garage, rotating her shoulder slightly, fighting the soreness and pain, as she thought over what she was going to say to Jay.

She waited until the plan was set, before approaching him, a pair of handcuffs in her hand. "Ratchets on the cuffs have been shaved down. So one tug, they'll come off," Amy explained.

He eyed her as he removed his watch, deciding to keep the bracelet on. "You've been quiet," he stated, holding his hands out, letting her handcuff him.

She let her hands linger on his wrists for a moment, almost like she was assuring herself he was still there and he was fine.

Amy grabbed the watch from his hand. "Well, I get why you're doing this. I'd probably do it too."

He gave her a small nod. "I'm glad you understand. At least someone does."

"Just be careful, Jay," she told him after a brief pause.

"I will."

Once the car was bugged, they were set.

The plan was for Joe to drive to the meet with Jay, with the unit and two Officers following them. They would be close by and hopefully arrest Shostak.

Amy kept her distance behind Hank and Erin, her eyes flicking between the road and the laptop open on the passenger seat. The signal held steady. Joe's car hadn't dropped once.

Two abandoned warehouses came into view ahead.

Joe pulled in between them.

Amy slowed, stopping far enough back to stay out of sight. Around her, the rest of the unit settled into position, each car angled just enough to keep a clear line on Joe's.

She watched the signal hold.

Then it pinged.

Incoming call. "Price is getting a call."

Joe answered. Amy listened in, eyes locked on the screen as the connection stabilized.

"Take him out of the car. Show him to me."

Her gaze snapped up to Joe's vehicle.

The driver's door opened.

Joe stepped out.

Amy leaned forward slightly as he moved around the car, opened the passenger side, and dragged Jay out. His body stayed slack, convincing enough.

Joe shoved him against the car, scanning the area.

Amy's eyes tracked the same lines— rooftops, corners, windows. Nothing moved. No sign of Shostak.

"Satisfied?"

"Head to the abandoned storefront on Ridgeland and Roosevelt." The call ended.

Amy's focus dropped back to the laptop as Joe forced Jay into the car and got behind the wheel.

The signal started moving.

She shifted into drive, easing back into position behind the unit. They hadn't gone far before the phone pinged again.

Her screen lit up. "Shostak's calling again," she said into the radio.

Joe answered.

"Check your texts."

Amy leaned across the console, already working to pull the data through.

"Get me that text, Hughes."

"Working on it." The file came through a second later.

She opened it.

A young man tied to a chair. Amy forwarded it without comment. "It's Price's son," Hank said over the radio.

Amy's eyes flicked back to the road, then down to the screen.

The signal ahead slowed.

On her laptop, the dot lingered in place longer than it should have.

Not traffic.

Not a light.

It stayed there.

"Car's stopped," she said, voice steady, into the radio. "He's been sitting in the same spot for a few seconds."

The dot didn't move.

"He may have dumped the vehicle," she added. "Could be switching out."

A second later, the signal cut out completely.

Amy pulled over to the side of the street, shifting into park without taking her eyes off the screen. Her fingers moved quickly, bringing up the secondary trace.

A new signal appeared.

Moving.

Different direction.

Amy leaned in slightly, tracking it for a second— confirming.

"I've got Jay," she said into the radio as she forwarded the location of the tracking device to the unit. "Signal's active and moving. Different route— Joe switched cars."

She hadn't told him she'd placed it. It had happened earlier in the rush of the garage— just a brief adjustment to his collar as they passed each other, close enough in the chaos of getting ready that no one else would have noticed. Jay had, though. He didn't stop it, just registered it and kept moving.

She glanced up, locking in the direction. Then shifted back into drive. "I'm back on him."

The response from the team was immediate— no hesitation, no discussion. The formation tightened behind her as they shifted direction together, engines building speed through the open industrial stretch.

The roads out here were emptier than before. Warehouses and fenced-off lots replaced buildings, giving the suspect fewer options and less room to disappear.

Amy kept her focus split— just enough on the road to stay safe, just enough on the screen to not lose him.

The dot moved fast.

Then faster.

Ahead, the unit began to converge. Sirens layered into the distance as multiple cars adjusted their angles, closing in without fully committing yet.

Then the suspect made the mistake.

A straight stretch of road. No turns. No cover.

Hank moved first.

The lead unit car cut in sharply, forcing the red vehicle to react instead of escape.

It swerved.

Too late.

The impact came hard— metal snapping into metal as the red car was forced off balance.

The sound hit before anything else did.

For a split second, Amy's grip tightened on the wheel— automatic, reflexive. A flicker of memory tried to surface with the same violent geometry of motion, the same loss of control— but she forced it down immediately, staying in the present.

The red car clipped the edge of a parked industrial vehicle and rolled.

Once.

Twice.

Then came to rest on its side, dust settling around it in a slow wave.

Amy was already braking before it fully stopped.

She pulled in behind the rest of the unit and stepped out with her weapon raised, scanning immediately.

No movement from secondary threats.

Just the wreck.

"Chicago PD!" Hank's voice cut through the space. "Show me your hands!"

A moment of stillness.

Then movement inside the vehicle.

Slow. Controlled. Injured but conscious.

The driver pushed the door open and dropped out onto the pavement, landing on his knees.

Amy advanced just enough to control the space, weapon steady, posture locked in place.

"Hands up!" she ordered. "Now— on the ground!"

He complied immediately.

Hands behind his head. Breathing hard. Bleeding but not resisting.

Amy held position, watching him until she was sure he wasn't going to move again.

A sharp ache pulled through her shoulder as she kept her arm raised, but she didn't shift her stance. She worked through it, keeping the weapon steady.

Footsteps approached behind her.

"Amy—"

Jay.

She registered him instantly, but didn't break focus.

"Cuffs," he said.

Without looking away from the suspect, she handed them over.

Jay moved in, securing the man and pulling him fully into custody as the rest of the unit collapsed the perimeter around them.

Only when the situation was fully controlled did Amy lower her weapon slightly, rolling her shoulder once as the tension finally released, eyes still scanning the scene out of habit rather than necessity.

The return to the district was quiet in comparison. No sirens, no urgency in the same way— just the low hum of engines and the aftermath settling in behind them as they made their way back.

By the time they reached the garage, the energy had shifted completely. Doors opening, radios clicking off, people stepping out of cars in practiced rhythm.

Amy moved with the rest of them, but slower now— less driven by urgency, more by routine. Her weapon was secured, but her attention stayed sharp out of habit, eyes still scanning faces, exits, movement.

Hank stood and waited for them to gather around him. Kim and Sean were there as well, looking at the Sergeant.

"In about two minutes, I gotta meet Commander Perry so he can brief command staff," he started.

"You know, no one out there really knows how we operate," Hank continued after a beat. "How we put ourselves in harm's way. If they did, our hands would be tied. And the worst of the worst that we hunt down would go free. So when I say this stays in house, this stays in house so we can keep operating the way we do."

He turned to Jay. "Halstead... what you did today..."

He paused, then placed a hand briefly on Jay's shoulder—something rare, restrained, but genuine. A small smile followed. Pride, unspoken but clear.

Hank let go. "What you did for this city..." he added, then shook his head slightly. "Well, no one will ever know. But this family knows."

A short silence followed, heavier than the words themselves.

Then Adam lifted his hand slightly. "Since no one else is mentioning it." He looked toward Amy. "You bugged Halstead?”

Jay reached up immediately, pulling the tracker from his collar.

Amy didn't react much— just a small shrug, like it was procedural. "Of course I did. We were working with a retired hitman. I wasn't taking chances."

A few low chuckles moved through the group. No one questioned it further. If anything, it reinforced the outcome that mattered most— Jay was alive, and the case was closed.

"I'm going to Molly's and getting drunk," Antonio said, breaking the tension. "Anyone want to join?"

Erin smiled slightly at that.

"Yeah, I'm in," Kevin said.

"I'm in," Roman added.

Amy reached into her jacket pocket as they started leaving, pulling out the watch. "Here," she held it out to Jay.

"Thanks." Jay put it back on. "For this and for having my back."

"Of course," she gave a short nod, before heading out. Amy returned to her district and went straight to her office. Paperwork was waiting on her desk.

Her office was quiet.

She sat down, pulled a file closer, and started the report, pen moving in steady lines across the page.

Routine. Familiar.

Her gaze lifted for a moment without meaning to.

Across from her— just for a second— her mind filled in the space the way it used to be.

Jay sitting there. Same posture. Same focus. Half listening, half already ahead of the next move.

She blinked once.

The image didn't match the room in front of her. Amy looked back down at the paperwork and kept writing. Thankfully, she didn't have a lot of work to do and was back at her apartment less than an hour later.

Amy entered the apartment, putting her bag on the counter and slipping off her jacket, just as Jay walked out of the kitchen.

He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms. "I can move back to my apartment."

She hung her jacket up first— taking her time with it—before turning slightly toward him. "Right. You don't have a target on your back anymore."

Jay shifted aside so she could walk past into the kitchen, watching her as she got a glass of water. "You okay with that?"

Amy let out a quiet hum, taking a sip before answering. "It was never permanent. I moved in because I was injured. You moved in because your place wasn't safe. That's all it was."

The glass clicked softly as she set it down.

Jay nodded once, like he couldn't argue with the logic— but didn't fully let it go either. "I know. Still... four months is a long time."

A faint, almost reluctant half-smile tugged at his mouth. "Feels like it stopped being temporary somewhere along the way."

That earned a brief glance from her.

Not a correction. Not agreement either.

Just acknowledgment.

"It'll be fine," Amy said after a beat.

Jay exhaled through his nose. "Yeah," he said. "It will."

But he didn't move right away.

And neither did she.

Then he stepped a little closer to the counter, like he wasn't done with the conversation yet.

"You know," he said quieter now, "Erin told me you've been thinking about leaving homicide."

Amy glanced at him. "She talks too much."

"She wasn't wrong though."

That made her pause, just briefly.

Jay leaned a hand lightly on the counter beside her— not blocking her, not crowding her, just closer than before.

"There's still an open spot in Intelligence," he said. "Your spot."

"I know."

Simple. Flat. Not a decision either way.

A beat stretched between them.

Jay exhaled lightly through his nose, like he'd been holding something in longer than he meant to. "I miss my partner."

That landed cleanly.

Amy held his gaze a moment longer than usual. Her focus sharpened slightly— not defensive, not soft either. Just attentive, like she was trying to separate intent from words.

The rest of the apartment felt further away for a moment.

Jay didn't look away when he added, softer, "I want you back in Intelligence."

She didn't answer immediately, because it wasn't just about work in the way he was saying it.

It was rhythm. Familiarity. The kind of trust you don't notice until it changes.

Something she hadn't realized she'd adjusted to until it wasn't there anymore.

Jay shifted slightly, eyes flicking down for a fraction of a second— then back up.

Quick. Unmarked. Like it almost didn't happen.

Amy noticed anyway.

Her expression didn't change, but her attention did— a subtle recalibration, like she'd caught herself staying in the moment too long and was already trying to step back from it.

"You don't need me there," she said.

Jay shook his head once. "I'm better with you there."

That one landed heavier.

Not dramatic— just honest.

A silence followed.

Then, quieter: "We were better.”

That stayed in the air longer than anything else.

Amy didn't correct him.

Didn't agree either.

She just looked at him for a moment that didn't belong to cases or decisions.

Then she turned slightly, breaking the angle between them— not leaving, just resetting the space.

"I'll think about it," she said.

Jay nodded once. He didn't push.

But he also didn't step back right away. Amy held there for a second longer than she needed to. Then she moved.

Not quickly. Not abruptly. Just enough to break the stillness and give herself something else to do.

She left the kitchen and crossed the apartment without turning back. Her room was quiet when she closed the door behind her. For a moment, she just stood there.

Then she sat on the edge of the bed.

Hands loosely together, attention unfocused in a way she didn't correct immediately.

Her mind replayed the conversation in fragments rather than sequence. She exhaled once through her nose, quiet and controlled.

Four months of routine that had started to feel less like temporary logistics and more like something she hadn't assigned a category to yet.

Amy reached for her phone and scrolled through her contacts without much hesitation.

Sergeant Voight.

[my4ncy]

MISS SUNSHINE SPECIAL

season two episode one

masterlist

THE BOXES WERE STACKED neatly against the wall. Celina straightened up, resting her hands on her hips as she surveyed the mess around her. She nearly groaned at the thought of cleaning the room.

Kelly entered, carrying her corkboard in one hand and a box tucked under his arm. "It's kinda cozy," he said, observing the small space.

Celina nodded, a smile growing. "And I won't have to cook, which is the best." She grabbed the corkboard from him. "And also seeing my godson, of course."

He let out a small chuckle. "Of course." Kelly placed the box on the bed, his thoughts drifting to the fact that he'd be moving out soon too.

She noticed the way his expression changed, her smile faltering. "Something wrong?"

Kelly turned to her, huffing slightly. "Renée and I have been looking for a place. Shay's doing the same." He took a seat on the bed. "Things have been kinda tense these four months."

Celina nodded. "Yeah."

"I feel like every time I talk to her, it ends with an argument. We're not gonna be roommates anymore and this isn't how I want us to leave things."

She leaned the corkboard against the wall. "This is about Renée and what Shay said about the baby." Kelly nodded. "Look, I don't know Renée, but I know Shay. She wouldn't say that just to hurt you or in spite. I think she's genuinely worried. You guys should talk— I mean, really talk."

"Yeah," Kelly responded with a nod, knowing she was right. "I'm gonna talk to her." His eyes then landed on the corkboard.

She had a photo on the top left corner— of her, Shay and Kelly from one of their martini nights. And on the opposite side, there was a piece of paper.

The words 'bucket list' were written at the top in a black pen, with pink hearts around it. There wasn't much written down, but what was there caught his attention.

"You have a bucket list?" Kelly asked her, turning to look at her.

Celina glanced at it before smiling at her former roommate. "Uh, yeah. I finally have enough goals to actually make a list."

Kelly walked over to the corkboard and grabbed the list before reading it. "Learn a new language, more coffee products, learn to play an instrument, travel, work as an army medic."

He looked back at her, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. "You want to be an army medic?"

She shrugged lightly. "I would get to help people and do something that really matters."

Kelly nodded, understanding where she was coming from— admiring her willingness to help others. "Have you chosen a language?"

"Yeah, I was thinking Italian, since it's so close to Spanish."

"Hey," Herrmann appeared at the doorway, their eyes turning to him. "We planning to go to work or what?"

Kelly huffed. "Hold your horses, Herrmann." Celina grabbed her bag from the floor and threw the strap over her shoulder.

"Yeah, Hermy," Celina added, pushing past him as she shot him a sarcastic smile, which he was quick to return.

"This is what I get for letting you move in," Herrmann complained, trailing behind her down the stairs.

They had barely reached the bottom when the front door opened. Cindy stepped out on the porch, Kenny resting against her shoulder. "Good morning."

She was met with smiles. "Good morning," Celina and Kelly greeted her.

"Christopher, you forgot this." She held out his coffee.

"Knew I was forgetting something," Herrmann muttered, taking it from her.

Celina smiled before stepping closer, gently kissing Kenny's cheek. "Hey, little man," she whispered gently to the sleeping baby. 

Cindy smiled softly. "He's been spoiled ever since you moved in."

Herrmann rolled his eyes, already moving toward the car. "Alright, let's go." Celina and Kelly said bye to Cindy before getting in as well, leaving for work.

It was the same familiar routine, often interrupted by a high-risk call— the perfect way to start the day. They had barely finished changing when the alarm blared throughout the firehouse.

The fire truck sped through traffic, sirens echoing loudly through the streets. Celina adjusted the helmet, mentally preparing herself.

They came to a halting stop and stepped out onto the pavement. Casey approached the Chief, his Firefighters behind him.

"Someone's inside," Boden told Casey, gesturing toward the sidewalk. An older woman's walker had been left behind, abandoned beside the smoking building.

Casey eyed the building, quickly planning their next move. "We'll vent the roof and start in the basement."

Kelly stood close by. "We've got the main floor," he told Casey.

The Lieutenants were about to give out orders to their crews, but stopped when Boden spoke. "Woah, woah, woah, woah." They turned to him. "Do you smell—"

Before he could finish, sparks suddenly flew and an explosion ripped through the building. They instinctively jumped back, covering themselves.

Celina lowered her arm and quickly observed that the explosion had occurred in the basement. Casey jumped into action immediately. "Cruz, Herrmann and Otis, up the aerial to vent! Candidates, we're in the basement!"

She crouched down, removing her helmet, before putting on her mask. Pulling her helmet back on, she and Peter followed their Lieutenant toward the building.

Casey entered the basement first. It was small, and he quickly realized it was empty. He grabbed his radio. "There's no one down here! It's inferno, Chief! We're heading back the way we came!"

"Copy that," Boden responded.

The Firefighters turned around and started heading back, thinking that perhaps that woman was upstairs where Squad was searching.

They had barely stepped outside when a loud crash echoed from somewhere above them.

A second later, Kelly's frantic voice came through the radio. "Mayday, mayday! I'm trapped in the basement!"

Boden quickly called out to Mouch— they had to go in. The two grabbed a hose and rushed inside.

Celina removed her mask and helmet, unable to look away from the burning entrance.

Casey told her to stay back, that Boden had it under control. She stayed close to her Lieutenant, her eyes locked on the burning entrance, trusting her Chief to bring Kelly out.

Several intense seconds passed before Boden and Mouch exited the building, holding onto Kelly. They guided him down the steps.

Shay rushed over. "Let's get him down." Her eyes turned to Kelly, checking if he was hurt. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay," Kelly insisted, as he was guided to the small grass patch. "I'm okay." He removed his mask and helmet, before sitting down.

One of his men handed him a bottle of water. Celina watched him chug half of it in a matter of seconds, worry evident on her face. "You sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine." Shay patted his back, before she went to the ambulance. Celina noticed the awkward interaction, but didn't comment on it. She was just glad they were all okay.

Kelly closed the bottle, before his eyes drifted to the side of the building. Casey frowned. "What is it?"

Celina turned to look at whatever had gotten his attention, her eyes landing on the numbers on the wall— 1751.

"That's my badge number," Kelly said quietly, pointing toward the wall.

The atmosphere inside Firehouse 51 was noticeably quieter when they returned.

Kelly had brushed off the incident, insisting he was fine, but the numbers painted on the building had left everyone unsettled.

Not wanting to dwell on it, Celina sat down at the common room table and opened her laptop. If there was one thing that always helped clear her head, it was work.

More specifically— keeping herself busy.

She clicked through the website she had been building for Molly's, adjusting the layout as she looked over the drink menu she had uploaded the night before.

Celina glanced up when she heard Mouch's voice. "This is the common room." A woman she had never seen before stood next to him. "This is where we lounge and wait for the alarm to go off."

Mouch looked over at Celina. "This is my friend and coworker, Celina."

"And this," he added, gesturing toward the woman beside him, "is Mari."

Standing up, Celina shook the woman's hand, offering her a smile. Upon hearing the name, she immediately knew who the woman was and her smile widened. "It's really nice to meet you."

"You as well."

Herrmann took a seat by the table. "Apparently she's gonna cook for us."

Celina went back to her chair. "As long as I don't have to." Mouch guided Mari to the kitchen area.

Her comment caused Herrmann to shoot her a look. "Well, you do if her food doesn't turn out good."

"Maybe it will." She turned her attention to her computer again, as Otis took the seat next to her. "Hopefully it will."

Otis smiled at her before glancing at the computer screen. "That's the website for Molly's?" He leaned in for a closer look.

"Yeah," Celina answered with a smile, turning the laptop toward him. "I added the drink menu, a link to the podcast website and one for my coffee brand. The address is at the bottom."

"It's really good."

"Thank you."

Whatever Mari was cooking smelled good. The scent traveled through the room, making the Firefighters look over in curiosity.

Peter went up to see what the woman was making. "Smells good," he told her. It was almost done, so instead of responding, Mari held up a spoon to the candidate and let him taste it.

He seemed taken aback. "Wow. This is amazing."

Mouch had observed this. "I've never eaten so good," he said to Peter and Herrmann, who was approaching them. "I come in, there's noodles, there's rice, there's little chopped-up fish."

Mari gave some to Herrmann, too. His reaction was similar to Peter's. "Holy mother, it's good," he chuckled. "Wow."

Celina chuckled at their reactions, relieved that she didn't have to cook. She was a good cook, but didn't like doing it.

Their reactions made her curious though, so she went over to have a taste too. "Wow," she mumbled upon tasting it. "This is amazing."

Mari smiled, satisfied with her work.

"Okay, everybody, listen up," Boden said, walking in. "The state of Illinois, in all its wisdom, has brought in a consultant to make recommendations on firehouse closures."

"What?"

"51 is on that list," Boden continued, ignoring Herrmann. "To be certain that it doesn't happen here, we are gonna tighten up, not give 'em a reason to even look in our direction. Does everybody understand?"

"Meaning what, Chief?" Joe questioned.

"Meaning that the trucks and the gas will be monitored. So no more side trips to go and get ice cream. You also will be required to join a wellness program, or you will pay higher premiums."

"This is insanity, Chief," Herrmann complained.

"Yeah, according to these wellness doctors, I'm technically obese," Mouch added.

Casey glanced at them, before turning to face the Chief. "The union's not gonna stand for this," he stated.

"Actually," Herrmann spoke. "I heard douchebag Greg Sullivan is running for union president."

Mouch dropped the spoon he was holding in frustration. Celina turned to Herrmann, confused. "Who?"

Herrmann groaned in annoyance. "I know him from bowling league. And let me tell you, he's no fireman's fireman. He's a climber."

"Regardless, we lock it down starting now," Boden told them.

"You got it, Chief," Casey responded.

Boden nodded. "You're gonna have some new faces soon from the house that's already been closed. Everybody, keep an eye out."

////

CELINA WENT FROM booth to booth, placing the newly laminated drink menus on each table. She smiled to herself, satisfied with how polished they looked.

Shay looked at her from the bar, shaking her head slightly with a small smile. "Gosh," she muttered. "I don't think I've ever seen someone be this happy over drink menus."

As she made her way behind the bar, Celina shoved the blonde in the process, making her chuckle. "I've spent a lot of time coming up with these drinks, so be nice."

"Okay, okay," Shay raised her hands in mock surrender. She sighed, sipping her drink, remembering the apartment hunt.

"Have you talked to Kelly?" Shay's eyes were fixated on her drink. She shook her head. "He said he'd talk to you."

Shay shrugged. "Work keeps us busy."

"Not that busy." That got Shay to look at her. "You guys are best friends and have been for a long time. This Renée thing shouldn't come in the way of that."

"It's more complicated than that." She pushed the stool back, getting up. "I gotta go. I'll see you tomorrow."

Celina nodded and smiled at her friend. "Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow." She watched as the blonde walked out of the bar. Just as she was about to turn away, a familiar face appeared and she stilled for a moment.

The man stopped at the door, recognizing her as well. "No way," he muttered.

A small smile formed on her face, the shock faltering. "What brings you here, ranger?"

He shrugged lightly. "I've heard good things about this place. Didn't realize you worked here, New York."

She let a small chuckle out, rounding the bar. "Well, I didn't back then." Celina approached him, pulling him into a hug. He returned it instantly, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Pulling away, she looked up at him. "It's good to see you, Jay."

"You too."

"Can I get you anything?" Celina stepped back behind the counter.

"Surprise me." He took a seat by the bar.

A small grin tugged at her lips. "Careful, ranger. I take that as a challenge."

He let out a chuckle, leaning on the counter. Jay watched as she turned toward the shelves behind her. She moved with ease, grabbing bottles without hesitation, mixing ingredients together like muscle memory had taken over long ago.

His eyes followed her quietly.

It was strange, in a way.

When he'd first met her years ago, she'd been different. More guarded. Quiet in a way that had stood out immediately, especially in a room full of people trying to unpack pieces of themselves. She'd barely spoken those first few meetings, shoulders tense, eyes always distant.

Standing here now, confidently moving around the bar with an easy smile on her face, she looked lighter somehow. Chicago had been good to her.

A minute later, she turned around and slid the drink in front of him. It was bright pink, with a strawberry resting neatly against the rim of the glass. 

Jay stared at it, then slowly looked up at her.

Celina stood there, both hands resting against the counter, smiling far too proudly. One of his eyebrows lifted as she bit back a grin. "What?"

He glanced back down at the drink before looking at her again. "This," he gestured vaguely toward the glass, "is what you came up with?"

She folded her arms. "You told me to surprise you."

He reached for the menu resting nearby, scanning over the names. "And which one would this be?"

"Miss sunshine special."

Jay looked back at her. "Is it named after you?"

Her smile widened instantly. "Yes, but I didn't come up with it. My friend Otis did."

He let out a quiet breath through his nose, shaking his head slightly before finally picking up the glass.

"You know," she added casually, clearly enjoying this far too much, "I figured you could benefit from a little color in your life."

Jay gave her a flat look before taking a sip. Celina watched him expectantly.

A beat passed.

He took another sip. She noticed immediately. "Well?" she asked, already looking smug.

Jay set the glass down slowly, pausing before responding. "I hate that this is good."

Her face lit up triumphantly. "Thought so."

He glanced at the drink again, still mildly offended by the color. "I'm not ordering this in public."

Celina laughed softly, shaking her head. "Don't worry, ranger." She leaned against the counter, grin still firmly in place. "Your secret's safe with me."

Jay looked at her for a moment, the corner of his mouth twitching upward despite himself. Some things, apparently, never changed.

////

CELINA SHUT THE CAR DOOR behind her, adjusting the strap of her bag over her shoulder as she made her way toward the firehouse.

Her appointment had taken longer than expected, meaning she was running later than usual. Not late enough for Boden to care, thankfully— but late enough that everyone else had already started their shift.

She frowned when she noticed several figures gathered outside instead of being inside preparing for the day.

Casey stood near the sidewalk, arms crossed over his chest. Next to him stood Kelly. And directly in front of them—

She slowed to a stop.

The black car parked by the curb was almost completely scorched, parts of the exterior blackened beyond recognition. The sharp smell of burnt metal still lingered faintly in the morning air.

Her eyes widened.

"What the hell happened?"

Kelly glanced over at the familiar voice, watching as she quickly approached. "I was wondering when you'd show up," he muttered dryly.

Celina ignored the comment entirely, staring at what remained of his car. "I saw this car yesterday." Her eyes moved to him immediately. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." Kelly shoved his hands into his pockets. "I'm fine."

Only then did she notice the two unfamiliar men standing nearby.

One looked older, posture rigid, expression unreadable. The other stood beside him with a camouflage duffel bag slung over one shoulder.

She knew immediately they were from firehouse 33. "You must be the new guys. I'm Celina."

"I'm Lieutenant Spellman," the older man shook her hand. "This is Clarke."

Clarke shook her hand firmly. "Ma'am."

She offered them both a polite smile despite still being visibly distracted by Kelly's destroyed car. "Welcome to 51." She glanced at the wreck again.

"Hey!" A voice called out. They turned to see Otis standing by the truck. "Boden wants everyone in the locker room!"

Casey nodded first, immediately turning toward the firehouse. Kelly followed beside him, Spellman falling into step with the two Lieutenants as they headed inside.

Clarke stayed behind for a moment before quietly following after them.

Celina glanced at him briefly before matching his pace, walking beside him as they made their way toward the entrance.

Her eyes drifted toward the bag resting against his shoulder.

"You were in the military?" she asked casually.

He turned his head slightly, meeting her gaze. "Yes, ma'am."

There was a brief pause between them as they stepped into the firehouse, making their way down the hall.

"We don't have to talk about it," he added after a moment, his voice polite but closed off. Like it was a conversation he'd had before.

Celina studied him for a second, immediately understanding she had touched on something personal.

She gave a small nod. "Thank you for your service."

For the first time, something shifted in his expression. Surprise, subtle but noticeable.

Like he hadn't expected that response. After a second, he gave her a small nod.

Neither said anything else as they continued walking.

By the time they reached the locker room, most of the others had already gathered around. Clarke moved toward the back without a word.

"Good morning, Chief," Celina greeted Boden as she made her way past him.

He gave her a nod back. "Good morning."

She moved to stand next to Otis, who was leaning against the lockers.

Boden waited for them to settle before talking. "Due to the cutbacks, overtime pay has been suspended."

There were some groans. "Here we go," Herrmann muttered, annoyed.

"We are gonna start doubling up on lockers," the Chief continued. "They're gonna take out that whole section and use it to store some of the equipment from the closed Firehouse 33. Please don't ask me why."

"This has reached a new level of absurdity," Herrmann complained.

"So now, you get to choose who you wanna share with." Gabby was quick to pick Shay, reaching out and putting her hand on the blonde's shoulder.

"Anyone but Cruz, I'm begging you," Otis mumbled, forcing Celina to hold back a laugh.

Joe raised his hand. "I'll take Otis."

"He didn't mean that," Otis told Boden.

The small smile faded from Boden's face. "On a more serious note, we have a reason to believe that Kelly Severide has gotten the attention of an arsonist."

His words shocked them, causing Celina to look at her friend. His expression immediately confirmed it. "I have been assured by CPD and arson investigation that they are into it. But I expect extra vigilance in the coming shifts from all of you."

There was a brief pause as they processed the situation. "And finally, today marks one year since we lost Andy Darden. Everyone hold a thought for him and the family that he left behind. We are all a little less without him in our lives." He gave them a slight nod. "I'll leave you to it."

Otis almost immediately turned to Celina, as the room started to empty. "Will you share a locker with me? Otherwise I might have to share with Cruz."

She nodded, smiling. "Yeah, that could be fun."

A smile grew on his face. "It will be fun."

They turned when they heard a whistle. Joe was leaning against the doorframe. "We're going for a ride." He turned and left, not waiting for a response.

After gearing up, they got in the truck.

Joe pulled out and started driving.

The conversation soon became about Kelly's situation. "It started with that call," Celina spoke. "Yesterday. His badge number was written on the wall."

Otis nodded. "Yeah, that definitely wasn't a coincidence."

"Then his car caught on fire," Herrmann said, shaking his head slightly. "Who would do this? Who would go after a Firefighter? People like us."

A moment later, the truck came to a stop. "If anyone asks, we saw a cat in a tree," Casey told Joe before opening the door.

"Got it," Joe responded. He watched as the Lieutenant closed the door and entered a building— it was a personal stop.

Celina leaned her head back, thinking about the entire situation, wondering why Kelly was being targeted. Why him, specifically? His badge number, his car.

This was personal.

A few minutes passed before Casey got back. He entered the truck. "See, no one will even know we were gone." Just as he shut the door, they were alerted by the dispatcher.

Building fire— truck 81, squad 3, engine 51.

Joe immediately pulled out, the sirens blaring.

Once at the scene, the truck didn't come to a complete stop before the Firefighters started exiting, immediately jumping into action.

Casey had a clear plan, ordering them to follow him. Celina got her mask and helmet on, before following them into the building— Squad was with them.

It was a tall building, with at least three floors and they didn't know how many people were inside.

They went up the stairs and almost immediately Celina's eyes landed on a figure on the floor. She rushed over to check on them. It was a woman.

Celina grabbed her arm and helped her to her feet, before holding her close and guiding her toward the stairs.

She held onto the woman as they descended the staircase. Celina pulled her through the front door as the woman continued to cough due to the heavy smoke.

As soon as the woman was out and safe, Celina went back inside, joining the others upstairs.

The second floor was quickly cleared and they moved to the third. Celina moved behind her Lieutenant, turning to the left to clear that part of the building, when something caught her eye outside the window.

She froze when she noticed flames outside and immediately moved closer.

Her eyes almost widened at the sight. "Lieutenant, we have a problem!"

Casey's head snapped in her direction. "What is it!?"

"We got a fire in the next building!"

He was soon by her side, looking out the window. The wind picked up, the fire was spreading. Casey grabbed his radio to alert Boden. "Fire's jumping, Chief!"

With Gabby and Shay inside the next building treating a victim, the situation had suddenly become much worse.

After a moment, Boden radioed Casey, confirming it. "Shay and Dawson are trapped in building two. Can you see them?"

Celina frantically looked around until her eyes landed on the window above— on the fourth floor of the building. She saw Gabby. "There she is!" She pointed at the paramedic.

"Got them, Chief," Casey told Boden. Gabby was contacting the Chief as well, letting him know the woman being treated couldn't move.

At least the fire in the first building was out thanks to engine.

They heard Boden's voice again. "Casey, we can't get the aerial in there to pull them out."

Celina instinctively turned to her Lieutenant, knowing he'd come up with a solution. Which he did. Grabbing his radio, Casey contacted the Firefighters outside. "Mills, Otis, run a straight ladder up. We bring them across."

For this plan to work, they had to be parallel with the paramedics, so they had to move up to the next floor. Kelly was already moving. "Let's go!"

The three Firefighters rushed up the stairs.

The Lieutenants went to get the ladder, while Celina rushed over and opened the window. "Gabby!" She called out to her friend.

Gabby appeared. "We don't have much time!" The fire was growing and getting closer to them.

They got the ladder on the window frame and carefully, but quickly, pushed it toward Gabby, who grabbed the other end.

The ladder was placed flat between the two buildings, the rest of the firehouse having a clear view of it from the sidewalk.

Casey grabbed the hose that had been brought up with the ladder before climbing out the window and making his way across.

Kelly turned to Celina, urgency in his voice. "I'm gonna help Casey! You stay here and help them get across!"

"Yes, Lieutenant!" Her response was quick. She watched as Kelly climbed out the window and moved across the ladder.

She saw Gabby.

The paramedic carefully placed her hands on the ladder, before climbing on it. Celina could see how nervous she was, her eyes stuck on the ground below.

"Gabby!" Celina called over. "Gabby, look at me!" The paramedic slowly looked up, meeting her friend's eyes. "You can do this! Slow movements!"

Gabby could barely nod, her movements slow, but somewhat deliberate. Thankfully the gap between the two buildings wasn't that big and it didn't take long for her to reach Celina.

The Firefighter grabbed her friend's hands and helped her down.

Once Gabby was on the floor, Celina turned to the window again, just in time for Peter and Otis to arrive.

Kelly helped Shay on the ladder. She had seen Gabby and knew not to look down, so she kept her eyes ahead— on Celina.

The blonde crossed faster, Celina and Otis helping her down. "Get me off this thing," Shay muttered as they did so.

The job wasn't over though.

The fire was still growing in the second building as Casey was struggling to tame it, and the victim had to be moved as well.

Casey had to abandon the hose to help Kelly.

The woman was on the backboard. They carefully guided the backboard onto the ladder.

Slowly, they began sliding it across.

Celina and Peter reached out to grab the other end and pulled the backboard all the way in, backing away slowly.

The backboard was almost halfway in when Gabby and Otis jumped in and grabbed the other end.

The four of them held onto the backboard and slowly put her down. She was still unconscious, but breathing. Celina and Otis moved in, grabbing each end before lifting her up and moving toward the stairs.

Shay rushed after them.

The two Firefighters moved down the stairs as quickly, but as carefully, as possible. They were moving down from the fourth floor, which meant a lot of stairs.

The paramedic moved ahead and tried to guide them as best as she could, occasionally grabbing Celina's arm so she didn't trip, seeing as she was walking backwards.

As they neared the first floor, Celina felt her arms beginning to ache, but shifting her grip wasn't an option.

As soon as they stepped out, the other Firefighters rushed over with the stretcher from the ambulance. They quickly got the woman on it and Shay tended to her.

Celina was finally able to remove her mask and helmet, but before she could take a breath, a deafening metallic clang suddenly echoed through the alleyway between the buildings.

Her head snapped toward the sound instinctively.

The ladder was gone.

It now lay twisted several floors below.

Her stomach dropped. For one horrifying second, she thought someone had fallen with it. She quickly looked up.

Casey was hanging in midair, both hands desperately gripping the hose they had been pulling back moments earlier.

Standing at the window above, Kelly immediately leaned forward, grabbing both of Casey's arms as he began pulling him up.

He struggled, but with Peter's help, they were able to pull Casey up.

Celina finally exhaled, knowing they were safe.

The rest of the call passed without incident. Once the victim had been taken by ambulance, the firefighters stayed behind to finish cleanup— rolling hoses, gathering equipment and making sure the trucks were ready for the next call.

By the time they got back to Firehouse 51, the adrenaline had long faded and darkness had settled outside.

The common room had become unusually quiet, everyone taking the chance to finally sit down after the long shift.

She sat on the couch, leaning back and getting comfortable. Pouch jumped up and climbed into her lap. Celina smiled faintly, stroking the dog's back.

"Oh, my God," she heard Otis mutter from the long table. He didn't sound panicked, so she knew it wasn't serious and he was most likely just being dramatic.

As usual.

Celina looked over at Otis, who was sitting on one of the chairs and staring wide-eyed at a phone, which wasn't his.

Herrmann looked over too. "What?" He walked over and grabbed the phone, as Celina got up. She saw the way Herrmann's expression fell into shock.

Now she was curious.

She stood next to Otis and looked at the phone with them. Quickly, Celina realized they were scrolling through photos of Joe at Game Day, clearly enjoying himself.

She felt confused and disappointed, as Herrmann played a video recorded at the bar, showing Joe partying and having fun. Music was playing loudly in the back, people were drinking heavily.

When Joe walked in, he knew immediately what was going on, his eyes widening.

Herrmann turned the phone off and threw it to Joe. "Thanks a million, Judas!"

"Guys, what do you want me to say?" He glanced between them, seeing they were mad. "Game Day's incredible. It's the best bar in Chicago. No, it's the single greatest place on earth."

Almost immediately, an argument broke out and soon they were yelling at each other. It escalated, which got the attention of the rest of the firehouse and the room started to fill up.

Celina tried to calm down Herrmann, who seemed to be the angriest, but it didn't work. Casey stepped closer, trying to figure out what was going on and why they were arguing.

"HEY!" Mouch screamed. All eyes were suddenly on him and the yelling died down. They watched as he grabbed Sullivan's poster from the corkboard and tore it in half.

Confusion washed over their faces, as Mouch threw the pieces of paper on the floor. "I would like to announce that I, Randy McHolland, am running for Union President, and I would appreciate your support."

They kept staring back at him, processing what he just told them, as he waited for a response or reaction.

Celina and Herrmann reacted first, both smiling at their friend. He pointed at Mouch. "Attaboy, Mouch. That's the best news I heard all day."

"You're gonna do great," she added. They all went up and congratulated Mouch, cheering him on, but it was cut short by the alarm.

The dispatcher alerted them that there had been a car accident, so they were prepared— or so they thought.

Only one car was involved in the accident.

They exited the truck and followed their Lieutenant, moving toward the black car. Joe and Herrmann went to the passenger seat, as the rest approached the Officer.

"DUI," Officer Atwater informed them. "The passenger's in pretty bad shape." They watched as Herrmann and Joe got the woman out of the car and onto the stretcher.

Gabby looked her over, her eyes focusing on the blood on her temple. "Head trauma," she observed. "Losing blood fast. We gotta move now."

The paramedics rolled the stretcher into the ambulance.

"Where's the driver?" Casey asked Atwater, who just pointed.

They turned, curious to know who had caused this accident. Celina's jaw almost dropped when she saw the familiar face. Around her, the others looked equally stunned.

It was Heather.

[my4ncy]

HI, I'M PHILIP

season two episode eight

masterlist

THE LAST COUPLE OF DAYS HAD BEEN STRESSFUL FOR APRIL— SHE HAD BEEN ignoring calls and texts from anyone involved with Annalise, including Wes, and she had been working on David's case with his lawyer. A day after her argument with Annalise, April sent her professor a text saying that she wouldn't be returning to her class again, and she turned her phone off after that. April had also been staying over at Tamara's apartment because Frank and Annalise didn't know her or where she lived.

Adah, David's lawyer, entered the apartment with Marian— both carrying boxes. Adah and Marian owned one of the biggest law firms in Pennsylvania.

"Finally," April backed away from the kitchen counter, a cup of coffee in her hand. "This is going to help David's case?"

The boxes were placed on the living room table. "This is everything we have on the victims," Adah told her. "We need to go through this and find something that will help free David."

"Let's get started," Marian clapped her hands together. They took a box each and started. They sat on the large couch. "I spoke to Matt's parents because they heard we're taking the case... they're pissed."

"Of course they are," April told her. "We're taking their son's killer's case."

"... imagine raising someone like that..." Tamara trailed off. "Can't imagine."

"We know what he was... we just have to convince the jury."

"How?"

"Tamara, you and I are gonna contact the victims' families, tell them we're opening the case, and hopefully they'll agree to meet us," Adah spoke.

"April, you and I are going to link Matt to the deaths of these kids," Marian added. "See if we can place him at any of the crime scenes."

"Remember that we're doing this for them. Not him."

"I got into the database, and I found Matt Morrison, but it's gonna take a while to get into these files."

Marian frowned. "What do you mean?"

"The files are sealed, so it's going to take a while for me to break into them. I'm new to hacking."

"How long?"

"Could take hours— even days."

Marian groaned in annoyance. "Are you serious?" April shrugged. "The cause of death is what links the victims— blunt force trauma to the head. And they show clear signs of sexual assault."

"Post mortem?"

"Yep," Marian nodded.

"The victims attended to the same kindergarten— lived in different neighborhoods."

"It's not much, but it's a start."

April hummed. "Coffee round?"

"Please."

April stood, "how do you like your coffee?"

"Like my soul."

April snorted as she grabbed her wallet. "Extra milk?"

Marian gave her a playful glare. "Screw you, Coleman." April shared a sarcastic smile before exiting the apartment.

April exited the coffee shop, holding two cups of coffee. "We're not doing this." She started to walk away from Frank, who followed her.

"You need to come back, red."

"I'm not going back to that class, Frank."

He caught up to her. "Oh, come on. So you had an argument with Annalise. Big deal."

"It wasn't just an argument. And I'm not going back. You can't convince me."

"Annalise sent me."

"Why?"

"She wants you back." Frank stepped in front of her, causing her to stop walking. "You're smart, April. You're just going to throw that away?"

April shook her head at his question. "I'm not throwing away anything, Frank. I just— I can't look at her. You don't understand."

"Then tell me."

"She has probably already told you." Frank shook his head. "The man that killed my girlfriend walks free because Annalise defended him. She's been spying on me— did a full background check on me." He averted his gaze for a second, and the realization hit her like a truck. "You— you did the background check— not Annalise. She asked you to do it. That explains why you called me School President. I thought it was a coincidence, but I was wrong." She felt frustrated, just like she did that night she argued with Annalise. Who could she trust? "... stay away from me. I'm not kidding." April walked around him and started walking away.

"Or what?" She stopped. "You'll kill me? Like you did with your hubby? And Sam?"

April stopped. His question was echoing in her head. "... maybe." She walked away, this time not bothering to wait for him to say anything.

////

"THANK YOU FOR MEETING ME," APRIL SAYS, as she looked over the menu.

Karen smiled. "I got to say I was surprised. And I had to say yes because we never spend time together. We haven't for a long time."

April forced a small smile. "I was thinking that too. Have things worked out between you and Henry?"

Karen's smile dropped. "We don't have to talk about that now."

"I'm sorry if I offended you. I just thought since we're becoming close and more open with each other that you'd tell me— that I could ask you. Sorry."

Karen sighed. "You're right. I— well— things are good."

April frowned. "Good? How so?"

"I confronted him about what you told me, and he denied it."

April fought the urge to argue with her.  "Oh? So, he didn't do it?"

"No," Karen shook her head with a smile on her face.

"That's good."

"How are you doing?"

"... I'm quitting law school."

Karen looked at her in shock. "What? Why? Don't tell me it got too hard."

"No. I just— it's not me. I mean, it's not what I want to do. Yeah, I know it's pathetic. Me being almost thirty years old and not knowing what I want to do. I should have figured it out by now, right? You don't have to tell me."

"I wouldn't. So, you're not seeing anyone?" April shook her head. "I know someone who you might like. There's this cute guy where I work."

A waitress walked over to them. "Have you decided?"

"Yes," Karen smiled at the waitress. "We'd like two of number eight and two glasses of your best white wine."

"Alright." She took the menus and walks away.

"How old is this guy?"

"... age is just a number."

"That means he's too old for me."

"... he's rich, April. You could marry a rich man."

"Uhm.. no, I don't. I want to be a rich man."

Karen frowned. "What do you mean? Are you," she leaned forward, "a trans?"

April glared at her mother. "I didn't mean that literally, mom. Never mind."

April was back at her apartment. The first thing she did was to lock the door and close the blinds. She then checked her apartment because she felt like she was being watched— maybe she was a little paranoid. April grabbed all the bottles of liquor that she had and put them on the living room table.

She took the cross necklace that belonged to Sheri, and she put it on. Before settling down on her couch, April changed into something more comfortable. She put on grey sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a hoodie— and grabbed a blanket.

The blanket was wrapped around her body, and her hair was up in a messy bun. The bottles had been moved to the couch because she would be too lazy to reach for them on the table. The tv was on, and a movie was playing. Not caring, April let the tears stream down her face— she was alone after all.

////

APRIL WOKE UP THE NEXT MORNING ON HER COUCH, the headache hitting her like a truck. Empty bottles surrounded her, and the blanket was hanging around her shoulders loosely. April groaned as she got up, the blanket dropped on the couch.

She went to grab some aspirin- accidentally closing the cabinet too harshly, which caused her to wince. April poured herself a glass of water and took the pill.

Her phone rang, almost startling her. April rushed to answer the call, the ringing made her headache worse. "What?" She asked, annoyed.

"Good to hear your voice, too," Tamara stated sarcastically. "Have you been drinking?"

"... why are you calling me this early?"

"I take that as a yes on the drinking. It's five pm."

April looked at the clock on the wall, and Tamara was indeed correct. "Whatever. What can I do for you?" She rubbed her forehead.

"The trial was this morning."

"And?"

"We provided the jury all the evidence we had against Matt, and one of the victims' family testified. We won the case, April. We convinced the jury that he was indeed a pedophile. We are waiting for them to make a decision about David."

April nodded. "That's good."

"Yeah. Where are you? You never showed last night."

"I'm in my apartment. Why?"

"... well, I was worried."

"There's no reason to be worried."

"If David gets released, then the case is over... are you still leaving?"

"... yeah," April replied hesitantly. "I can't stay here. We've been over this."

"Fine," Tamara sighed. "As long as you're a hundred percent sure you want this."

"I am. Talk to you later." She hung up.

"Congratulations on winning the case."

Adah walked up to April outside the courthouse. "Thank you." She smiled.

April was squinting, the sun hurting her eyes. "How did the parents take it finding out their son was a pedophile?"

"As one would expect," Adah shrugged. They started walking. "Hopefully, they'll release David."

"They haven't made a decision yet?"

"We will get an answer tomorrow."

April frowned. "They really need that long?"

Adah shrugged. "Apparently."

"There you are!" April and Adah turned towards the angry voice and saw Matt's parents walk up to them. "You're the one who told her to take the case!" The mother glared at April.

"And what about it?" April snapped back at her.

"You have ruined our lives!" The father snarled— just as angry as his wife. "You're gonna pay for this!"

"Fight me, old man."

Adah pulled back April. "I was just doing my job, sir."

"Kindly walk away," April added. She glanced between them.

"You're a murderer," the mother snapped.

"And you raised a pedophile, so..." April trailed off. "I didn't ruin your lives- your son did that. I'm not sorry for what I did. And don't be too upset, I mean- you guys look like you could die any second, so you'll see your son in hell soon." Howard stopped his wife from attacking April, who looked proud of herself for her comment. "Anyway... have a great day," she said sarcastically before walking away with Adah.

"Was that necessary?"

"Absolutely," April smiled.

///

APRIL WAS PACKING HER CLOTHES AND BELONGINGS, LEAVING TWO OUTFITS WHICH she would wear for the next two days. She bought a plane ticket and was leaving in two days, the earliest flight she could get.

The apartment had been cleaned— including the empty bottles. The radio was on, and a song was playing. There was a knock on the door. April dropped what she was doing and went to answer it.

"Hey," Karen greeted her.

"Mom." April seemed confused to see her mother. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I just thought I'd pay you a little visit." Karen smiled. "I haven't been here in a while."

April opened the door wider. "Come in."

Karen stepped into the apartment. "You've cleaned," she stated as April closed the door.

"Well, I'm leaving, so..."

Karen turned to face April. "You're going back to Virginia?"

"Yep," April nodded as she went to sit on the couch.

"And then what?"

"I haven't decided yet."

"This is unlike you. You always plan things ahead. You're not one to improvise."

"People change," April shrugged.

Karen sat next to April. "Is there anything I can do for you? I'm here if you need anything."

"I'm good," April forced a smile. "I'll be fine."

///

2013

APRIL WAS BANGING ON HER MOTHER'S APARTMENT DOOR, so loudly that she was wondering how the neighbors hadn't yelled at her. The door opened abruptly. "What the hell is this, April?!" Karen snapped at her.

April had tears streaming down her face, not that her mother seemed too bothered about that. "I-I-I didn't k-know where t-to go," she cried.

Karen placed her hand on her hip. "What are you stuttering for? Where is that husband of yours?"

April sniffled. "I-I don't know what to do. I tried to push him away, but-"

"What are you talking about?!"

"... h-he forced himself on me."

"That's Bull."

April shook her head, more tears formed in her eyes. "It's true. It started a few months ago."

"Why didn't you say no? Why didn't you leave?"

"I'm telling the truth!"

"If it were true, you would have left. Don't come lying to me."

"I was scared!" April sobbed. She fell on her knees when her mother closed the door on her face and locked it. "Mom!" She banged on the door. "Let me in!" April cried out. "Open the door! Please, open the door! Mom! Mom! Please! I don't know what to do! Please, I need your help! MOM!" Her cries for help continued to be ignored.

[my4ncy]

TWO BIRDS, ONE MILLSTONE

season two episode six

masterlist

2013

APRIL PICKED UP HER LAB COAT FROM THE FLOOR AND USED IT to cover up her naked body. She picked up the clothes and made her way upstairs. Her cheeks were wet from the tears, her eyes were red, and she was shaking. Her body was aching.

She threw her clothes in the garbage— but she put her lab coat in the closet. Her mind was hazy even though it has happened before— maybe she thought she would get used to it. Turning the shower on, April got in— after locking the door.

The water washed down her body, and her hair got soaked. She was getting cleaned, but she still felt dirty. April wrapped her arms around herself— it used to be Nicholas who hugged her when she felt down. And when she was a child, it used to be her father. She sniffled as she tried to remember the good times in her marriage, but why? Why did she keep looking for the good in him? There was no good in him. All the horrible memories were clouding the good ones, and maybes that was good.

Had April remembered the good times with Nicholas, she wouldn't have killed him later that night.

////

APRIL AND WES WALKED INTO THEIR CLASSROOM SIDE BY SIDE. He was on the phone, "where are you? Please call me back."

"Still nothing?" April asked.

"Is that your bestie Levi?" Laurel asked before Wes could answer April's question. "How's jail treating him?"

Wes grabbed her arm, stopping her from leaving. "I can take crap from Connor and Michaela, fine, but you know I'm not crazy."

"What's up with you?" April asked as she crossed her arms.

Laurel glanced at them both. "I snooped through Frank's stuff this morning."

"You found something?"

"No. And I won't because there's nothing to find."

"Then what's with the suitcase?" Wes asked.

"Huh, we were right," Michaela approached them. "They're obsessing about the suitcase."

"Not obsessing," April told her. "Just curious to know why Frank has so much money laying around. Aren't you?"

"Maybe he has a gambling problem or distrusts banks," Connor guessed.

"Or is saving it to hire a hitman to kill Wes for letting me sleep with a drug dealer."

"Okay, can we all stop this, please?" Laurel asked. "Forget about the suitcase and Rebecca and Levi before Annalise finds out we've all gone bananas again."

"Laurel is right," April was the first to speak up. "Right, Wes?" She eyed him.

Wes looked at April for a moment before nodding. "Right." She gave him a nod back before turning to Michaela.

"By the way, let's not blame your failed sex life on Wes because we all know your taste in men sucks." Connor grinned at her comment while Laurel tried to hide hers.

"Why aren't we in our seat?" Annalise walked in before Michaela could respond to April's comment.

April grabbed Wes's arm and dragged him with her. "Keep your head down," she told him before she took her seat, and he went to find his.

"The United States V. Mahoney," Annalise spoke up. "Mr. Millstone." Asher stood from his seat. "Tell me the verdict."

"There was no verdict in the U.S. v. Mahoney. Due to the victim's concerns about suffering additional emotional harm, he didn't testify, and the judge had no choice but to dismiss the case."

"What legal option did the prosecutor exercise in allowing the victim's request not to testify?"

"Discretion." Annalise nodded at his answer.

They were back at Annalise's house— they were in the living room area. "Sorry I had to go all Jason Bourne on you guys," Asher said, "but, uh, your heads would literally kerplode if you knew about all the crap going on in this house."

"Really?" Laurel asked. "You can't tell us anything?"

"No, not a peep."

"Good. I don't want to know anything that could get me into trouble," Connor said.

"Seriously, don't tell us anything," Michaela added.

"I mean, I won't." Asher glanced at Bonnie when she exited Annalise's office. "You know, A.K. really wants to keep this genie in a bottle—"

"That's good," April cut in before Asher could say anything else ridiculous. "If it's that intense, then it's best that you keep it to yourself."

Asher nodded. "You're totally right, and I will keep it to myself, A.C." April grimaced at the nickname. "Ooh, you know what? If my initials were D and C, then we would be ac/dc." He grinned at his own comment.

"Wow," April mumbled. "Yeah," she forced a smile, "that— that would have been great." Asher grinned wider as April grabbed her book and leaned back on the couch.

"You need something?" April looked up when she heard Frank's voice.

And then she saw Wes standing there, looking at Frank. "No."

"Wes," April called out to him as Connor and Michaela glanced at each other. Wes turned to face her. "I need to show you something."

Frank watched as Wes made his way to April and sat next to her. "What?" Wes asked April in a low voice.

"I don't actually have anything to show you." April turned to face Wes. "Look, I want to know what happened just as much as you do, but I told you to keep your head down," she whispered to him so that the others wouldn't hear. "You don't think Frank is going to tell Annalise? He will. He will get suspicious. And so will she."

Wes nodded. "I know. And you're right. I just... I want to know the truth," he whispers back.

"And we will figure it out... just be patient." Wes nodded, knowing she was right.

"When are you finally gonna talk to him?" Frank asked Annalise in her office.

"I don't know," Annalise replied.

"Sooner, the better, I say. The suitcase distracted him, but he's a dog with a bone about Rebecca."

"Don't you think I know that?"

"And it's not just the puppy... I think School President is on it too."

Annalise grabbed her bag and turned to Frank. "April?"

"Think about it, Annalise. She was friends with the girl— even killed Sam defending her. You really don't think she would want to know the truth?"

Annalise paused for a moment. "I didn't even think of it that way. But don't worry... I can handle them. Right now, I have to go handle a bitch."

////

"WELL, WE OBVIOUSLY KNOW WHO I THINK OUR NUMBER-ONE SUSPECT IS," Michaela stated. "The racist. Aunt Helena. She was next in line to get the money if you two went to jail."

"But she's dead now," Catherine said.

"Her money has to go to someone, though, right? An ex-husband, a boyfriend."

"A girlfriend." Asher walked in. "Old ladies can like vag, too," he said when the others looked at him.

"Our aunt willed all her money to a charity based in Africa," Caleb told them.

"Hmm, the irony," April mumbled— only Michaela and Connor hearing the comment since she was sitting between them.

"What about miss Guthrie?" Laurel asked. "She planted the sibcest photo of you two, had access to the house."

"Her sister told the police she was home all night," Catherine cut in.

"Why aren't we considering your real parents?" Asher asked. "Your sperm and egg parents, not them," he gestured to the picture on the wall.

"Oh, my God," Michaela whispered, annoyed.

"Those are our real parents," Catherine told Wes.

"You know what I mean."

"We are not looking into our birth parents," Caleb shut down the idea.

"Why not?" Wes spoke up for the first time. "A jury might buy that they resented your adopted parents' ability to give you what they couldn't."

"So they murdered them in cold blood?" Michaela seemed to be angry at the idea. "That makes no sense."

"It does if the birth parents knew how much Catherine and Caleb would inherit," April stated— gaining a glare from Michaela.

"Okay, no, we are not vilifying the people who were brave enough to put their biological kids' needs before their own, thus ensuring them a safe and loving home."

"Exactly." Caleb sided with Michaela. April watched as he and Michaela glanced at each other.

"So... please tell us those aren't the only potential suspects you have," Catherine said.

"Ronald Freestone. Your dad's ex-business partner who was ousted from the board."

"Where have you been?" Wes asked Nate— he put the phone on speaker. He was standing on the balcony with April. Wes had already explained everything to April— after that night at the storage locker.

"Doesn't matter," Nate replied.

"It does," April said. "Frank used his storage locker the night Rebecca disappeared."

"We went inside and found all this cash in a suitcase," Wes added.

"Great. Tell your friend. What's his name?"

"He's in jail for dealing, but I think Annalise set him up."

Nate didn't respond. April frowned slightly. "Are you hearing what we're saying?"

"No. And I'm done... with anything having to do with Annalise. Stop calling me." April and Wes looked at each other once Nate hung up the phone— both confused.

"If you're charged with a murder you didn't commit, you'd blame anyone but yourself, even your birth parents."

"We're considering the birth parents again?" April asked Laurel as she entered the room with Wes.

"No," Michaela replied.

The iPad on the table catches April's attention. "Oh, my god," she mumbled. "Whose is that?" She pointed at the iPad.

"Why?" Laurel asked.

"It's recording," April replied. Laurel grabbed the device.

"It's Catherine's."

"She's recording us?" Michaela stood along with Laurel.

"Delete it," Connor told Laurel.

"She'll know," Wes said.

"Well, it's better than letting her hear us say they're killers."

"It's got a passcode," Laurel told them.

"It's 4713," Catherine walked up to them, taking them by surprise. "And you don't get to be mad I recorded you." She took back the device. "You lied to me, as did you, so I figured we might as well know what our lawyers were saying about us for once."

"I don't know what's more idiotic," Annalise scolded her students. "Bad mouthing our clients in their own home or getting caught doing it."

"I'd say the latter," Asher spoke up— standing next to Annalise.

"I'll talk to Caleb, explain—"

"He just called," Annalise interrupted Michaela. "He doesn't want any of you near this case."

"But not me, right?" Asher asked their professor.

Annalise glared at Asher before turning to the students who got themselves in trouble. "You know, at least tell me you've made some headway on the suspect front." No one spoke up. She shook her head at then. "You're all garbage."

"You mean all them, right?" Asher asked as Annalise made her way to the office with Bonnie. "Not me? I-I'm still good, right?" The professor ignored him and shut the door.

"What about you, April?" Michaela turned to April, who was walking over to the white chairs— now standing opposite Michaela, who was seated. "I thought you were the smartest here. So use your smart, psychopathic brain and find a solution."

April laughed sarcastically. "Okay." Her face went blank. "Genius, psychopathic brain. And I didn't get us into this mess. You're the ones," she gestured to Michaela, Laurel, and Connor, "bad mouthing our clients. I mean, what were you thinking?" The three didn't respond. April scoffed as she sat down.

"Uncle Silas. Looks like a serial killer," Laurel said, holding up a picture.

"His credit cards show he was in Brazil during the murders," Michaela responded. April was sitting on the couch, trying to concentrate on the case.

"The family lawyer."

"Was at a museum gala that night," Connor stated.

"Why don't we at least find out who the birth parents are?" Wes asked.

"No respectable adoption agency is just gonna hand over that information to us."

"Nothing needs to be handed over," April mocked Michaela. "We just call Oliver. He can hack into the system and find the biological parents."

"I'll call him right now," Connor said.

"No! Our clients specifically said not to go down this road," Michaela told Connor angrily as she took his phone from him.

"Is this about your crush on Caleb?"

"You have a crush on Caleb?" April scoffed. "So, after endlessly making fun of Wes for being with Rebecca, you're going to do the exact same thing? Besides, the birth parents are the best chance we have."

"I'm adopted, and no, we're not talking about it, but yes, it means I have personal feelings about this issue, which I would consider putting aside if I didn't know that this was just Wes and his crazy."

"How is this about me?"

"Because everything wrong about our lives is about you, and—"

"That's enough!" April interrupted Michaela as she stood from the couch. The sudden noise almost startling Michaela. "You continue to blame everything on Wes, and I'm sick of it. Sam's death— that's on me. I'm the one who ruined your life that night— not Wes. So hate me. And you can hate me as much as you want, but right now, you need to put it aside so we can fix your mistake. But if you can't pull yourself together, then you should leave because I can't afford to waste my time here." Michaela only nodded in return, not knowing what to say.

////

"WHAT'S YOUR PLAY, APRIL?" TAMARA ASKED as they sat on April's living room couch.

"... we know Henry and George killed Sheri. Nicholas was Henry's brother... he wanted revenge, so he killed my girlfriend." April took a big sip from her white wine.

"But how do we prove that?"

"We know George is dead, so we find out how he died."

"You think he could have been murdered?"

April shrugged. "After everything that has happened, that doesn't seem too crazy. David saw them together, which means he saw them in Virginia before he was arrested. I'll call hospitals and tell them the prosecutor is building a case. I'll get the certified death report and— you know what? You get it."

Tamara exhaled and nodded. "That sounds good, April. But are you sure it's going to work?"

"Yeah," April nodded. "I think it will. I have it all planned out. It will work."

"Have I reached Virginia Hospital Center?" April spoke into her phone as she slowly paced around her living room. This being the fifth hospital she had called.

"Yes," the woman on the other end answered. "How may I help you?"

"My name is Dr. Coleman, and I'm calling from Pennsylvania. I work for a prosecutor of the state, and we're looking to build a case for one George Matthews and, if I'm not mistaken, you have his file."

"Uhh, I'm going to have to check. One second." There was silence on the other end as April waited. "Did you say George Matthews?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"We have the death certificate. Is that what you're looking for?"

"Yes. That's great. So, if you could just email it to me, that would be good."

"What did you get?" Tamara entered April's apartment.

"Death certificate," April replied, her eyes on her laptop screen. "Anthony called Arlington Virginia Police Department, which is a mouthful, and provided us with everything they had on Henry."

Tamara frowned. "W-wait. I don't understand."

April looked at Tamara. "George's official cause of death was homicide— first degree."

"You were right."

April hummed. "Henry was arrested for the murder because his firearm matched the murder weapon."

"But he never went to prison?"

"He's a white police officer... obviously, he didn't go to prison. I'm looking for the lawyer who represented him." April started looking through the file.

"Then what?"

"Violet knows a lawyer. You can go—" April stopped mid-sentence when something in a file caught her attention.

"What?" Tamara looked confused.

"This can't be right," April mumbled. She looked at Tamara. "Defense attorney, Annalise Keating." She felt her heart almost drop to her stomach when she said the words out loud.

Tamara looked shocked. "April—"

"Go to Violet," April interrupted her. Pushing her feelings down. "She knows a lawyer, and we're gonna need her."

"For Henry?"

April shook her head. "For David. I'll handle the Henry... situation."

Tamara took a step closer. "April—"

"Please, just do what I told you!"

Tamara scoffed. "Just like old times; you telling me what to do."

"... it's not like that."

"It's exactly like that."

"I can't do everything, Tamara! I'm just asking you to talk with Violet. Please?"

Tamara sighed. "Fine." She left— slamming the door behind her. April looked at Annalise's name on the file, knowing she had to confront her about it.

////

"I KNOW THAT I'M THE LAST PERSON YOU WANT TO SEE RIGHT NOW," April started— the wine bottle in her hand. "But... I-I just came to apologize for my behavior. I was way out of line."

"Is that so?" Karen asked, her arms crossed.

April nodded as she blinked back her tears. "You're my mom... no matter what. We fight all the time, but that doesn't change the fact that we're family. And I— I really need someone to talk to right now," she choked up— she wiped a single tear that rolled down her cheek. "I don't know what to do."

Karen looked sympathetic— almost tearing up as well. She opened the door wider. "Come in." April walked in, and Karen closed the door.

"What happened?" Karen asked as she poured April a glass of the wine she brought.

"... it's just— school is really stressing me out," her voice shook as she talked. "And I kept thinking about the things I said to you... I shouldn't have said those things to you." Karen gave her the glass of wine. "And I'm sorry for mentioning George. I didn't even stop to think how his death affected you. It's always hard to find out someone you care about has been murdered."

Karen stopped in her tracks. And she slowly turned to face April. "What did you just say?"

"That I'm sorry," April repeated.

"The part about George being murdered."

April sniffled. "The cause of death was a gunshot wound to the head. I thought you knew."

Karen sat down on the couch. "I— I didn't know. Who killed him?"

"Some guy who was let go. It doesn't matter."

"April. Tell me."

April looked at her lap. "Henry," she mumbled. Her answered shocking Karen. "And my professor represented him. She defended him in court." She sniffled. "She defended him." Karen took the wine bottle and started drinking it. "I'm sorry."

Karen dropped the bottle. "How did I not know this?"

"I'm sorry," April repeated. "I thought you knew, and I didn't want you to find out like this."

"But he must have been innocent because he's free."

April nodded. "Yeah. At least you know the truth now."

Karen nodded. "Thank you, dear."

"I think— I think we could work this out."

Karen smiled. "Me too, dear."

April forced a smile. "That's good."

"Excuse me," April said when her phone rang. She stood up and went to the kitchen to answer it. "What's up?"

"The lawyer agreed to represent David."

April sighed in relief. "That's good."

"Yeah, but there's bad news. We don't have enough proof."

"What about witnesses?"

"One, and she was too scared to take the stand."

"Family of the victims."

"Do you think they're going to want to testify after what happened last time? Plus, they've worked so hard to forget what happened. I'm not sure I want to put them through that."

"I understand what you're saying, Tamara. But David is your friend, and he would do the same for you."

"... I'll see what we can do. The lawyer decides. Bye."

"Bye." She hung up.

"Everything alright?" Karen asked.

April nodded. "That was work. Everything's fine."

April entered her apartment where Tamara was. She was sitting on the couch, with a pitiful expression on her face. "What happened?" April closed the door and approached Tamara.

"I was just on the phone."

"And?"

"Josephine Kelley— the only witness died two years ago." April was shocked by the news. "Whatever evidence we find, if we find any, better be damn good if we want to win this case, April."

April sat down on the couch. "Do not give up on this, Tamara. We will win this... but we may have to play dirty."

"Whatever it takes to get him out of that place."

////

IT WAS LATE— APRIL AND WES ENTERED NATE'S APARTMENT BUILDING. "It makes sense," April told him in a low voice. "She had cancer, and he sounded upset on the phone."

"He said that he doesn't want anything to do with Annalise."

"They had an affair while his wife was dying of cancer. I don't know; maybe he regrets not spending time with his dying wife."

Wes nodded slightly. "Maybe you're right."

As they got closer to Nate's apartment, they heard knocking— it was Annalise. "Nate?" She knocked again before putting something on the floor.

"Don't tell me what my wife wanted!" They heard Nate yell at Annalise. April looked down, knowing she was right about his wife passing away.

"I couldn't not come."

"Because you knew what you took from me! She needed me. The whole time I was in jail, in court, but I wasn't there 'cause you stole that from us. The only time we had left together, you stole that. So no cobbler or apologies could fix it."

"Right. I would hate me too."

"I don't hate you. I just don't care about you. I gave Nia those pills because I loved her. And I laid next to her in that bed, held her as she fell asleep, so close that I could feel when she took her last breath. No one's ever going to love you that way. Leave. Leave!" Nate went back in and closed the door. April grabbed Wes's arm to drag him away because she didn't want Annalise to see them, but he didn't budge. That was when Annalise looked up and saw them standing there.

"Come on," April whispered to Wes. Annalise took a step towards them, but she didn't have the chance to do more than that because they left.

"What now?" April asked Wes— they were at his place.

"She's gonna show up here." Moments later, there was a knock on the door. "Told you."

April opened the door, and Annalise walked in. "Nate's wife died last night."

"We know." April closed the door.

Annalise stood in front of April and Wes— she looked at both of them. "We have to finally talk."

"Then talk."

"You know everything now. Right?" Wes asked. "From Frank, or has Nate just been telling you all along?"

"I didn't kill Rebecca," Annalise stated.

April eyed her carefully. "So, she is dead."

"April—"

"You said you didn't kill Rebecca," April interrupted her mid-sentence. "Which means someone else did. Maybe you're covering for the real killer. Make us believe that she just left town."

"That is not true."

"Explain the suitcase," Wes demanded. "Why did you have us find it?"

"She ran away. That's all I know."

"You know more than that."

"Tell us," April added. "Is she dead?"

"I don't know where she is."

"And we don't believe you."

"And I understand that." Annalise glanced between them. "You both have a parent who killed themselves," she notes— changing the subject altogether.

April scoffed and turned away from Annalise. "How do you know that?" Wes asked. He was not surprised about April's dad, considering he and April had shared a lot after they agreed to work together.

"It's my job to know these things," Annalise replied. "About all of you. You were both abandoned... and that's not something a nine-year-old or a twelve-year-old can just get over."

"Stop." Wes turned away from Annalise.

"Now you can't trust anyone anymore—"

"This is not about my dad!" April interrupted her again— she was trying not to tear up. "And it's not about his mom!"

"It is," Annalise insisted. She turned to April. "With your estranged relationship with your mother, there's no wonder why—"

"You don't know what you're talking about!" April had tears in her eyes— she tried to stay strong. Annalise fought the urge to take a step back. "I never told you anything about my father, so how the hell do you know so much about him?!"

"It's my job!"

"Stop lying!" All the anger came out. "All those times you needed to talk to me after class or in your office, you asked me all these questions about my mom and my family! Why?! You were sitting there with all the answers, so why make me tell you?! Why?! W-was it to see if I would lie to you?! To test my loyalty?! What was it?!"

"April, just let me expl—" Annalise stepped towards April, her arms out ready to comfort her but was stopped when Wes stepped in front of her.

"Don't touch her!" Annalise was taken aback by Wes protecting April— she didn't realize they were that close.

"I trusted you," her voice wavered. "You've been spying on us. You did background checks on us. You're a damned liar," she muttered the last part. She's frustrated. "And when you stood in front of me and pretended to be sympathetic after Sheri died when you're the one who defended her killer in court!"

Wes looked shocked. "Is that true?" Annalise didn't answer. "It is."

"It's more complicated than that," Annalise told April. "I know it's hard to believe, and I understand. And it's hard to believe that Rebecca ran away, but it's just how it is sometimes." Her voice was calm. "And the worst part about this is that it's destroying us. But I'm here for you— for both of you. All right?" April scoffed— it was hard to believe anything right now. "I'm never leaving you."

"You have to stop keeping secrets then," Wes told her.

"You're right—no more secrets. We've looked all over for her. Everywhere. I can't find her. I'm sorry."

"Okay." Annalise turned to April— who was standing with her arms crossed. She didn't say anything— instead, she left.

[my4ncy]

ROOMMATES, SHOTGUNS AND CRUSHES

season two episode two

masterlist

AMY WAS FINALLY ABLE to work in the field again, but more importantly, she got to carry a gun. She never thought holstering her gun in the morning would feel as good as it did.

She looked up, catching her reflection in the mirror. The bandage visible on her arm, by the sleeve of her t-shirt. The gun on her hip. It felt like she was actually back to being a cop.

The last four months of working in Homicide were good. Nothing like working in Intelligence. All those months and she barely interacted with the unit— each person working independently, most of the time.

They weren't a team, or a family.

They were simply coworkers. And surprisingly, Amy didn't know how to feel about it.

"How's the shoulder?" Jay asked, as he walked out from the kitchen, with a cup of coffee in his hand.

"Almost healed."

Something caught his eye. "Uhh..." he trailed off, making her frown. Jay approached her, putting the cup on the counter. "It's your bandage. I can fix it."

Amy had her head turned, looking at him, as he stood next to her. "Alright." He lifted her sleeve, adjusting the bandage.

"Are you sure you're ready to be out in the field?" He asked, finishing with the bandage. Taking a step back, he kept his eyes on her.

"Yeah, it's been four months," she replied with a nod. "You should be more worried about the bounty on you."

That was followed by a brief pause before he replied. "Touché." That brought a satisfied smile on her face.

Amy leaned down and grabbed her bag. "Alright. I'm gonna head out now." She put the strap around her left shoulder. "I'm gonna meet Antonio for a boxing session."

"Be careful."

"Yeah, yeah," she muttered, patting his arm as she passed him. She could hear him chuckling as she left the apartment.

Amy really did need those boxing sessions— at this point it was mostly to get back into good physical shape. And Antonio was a good boxer, so it was fun too.

And with his marital issues, Antonio needed them too.

After quickly changing in the locker room, she joined Antonio, greeting him with a fist bump. They got started almost immediately, because neither of them knew if they could be called in to work.

Amy wiped the sweat off her brow and squared her stance. Antonio stood a step in front of her, glancing at her shoulders.

"Keep your right up a little higher," he said. "Your left's fine, but your right's dipping. Don't leave it open."

Amy adjusted her gloves. "Like this?"

"Better. Now throw a jab— fast, snap it back."

She punched the bag, the thwack echoing in the gym. A slight pang ran through her right shoulder, but she ignored it.

Antonio nodded, stepping closer. "Good, but don't reach too far. You want control, not just power."

Amy tried again, more controlled this time. "Feels weird not using my right as much," she muttered.

"Right shoulder's still healing, I get it," he said. "You don't need to baby it, but don't push it."

She grunted and jabbed the bag again, focusing. Antonio circled her slowly, watching. "Good. Keep your feet moving— don't let them get flat. Boxing's as much about balance as it is about hitting."

Amy shifted, adjusting her stance. "Like this?"

"Exactly. Nice," he said. Then, as she paused to reset, he added casually, "By the way, your spot in Intelligence still hasn't been filled."

Amy froze mid-jab, eyes narrowing in surprise. "Really? Four months and no one? Why?"

He shrugged, a small smile on his face. "Beats me." He did know though. Hank told him he wouldn't find anyone to fill her shoes, so he wasn't going to.

After he was called to work, Amy decided to change and head to work as well. She was looking forward to getting cases that allowed her to go out in the field.

She got a coffee and started driving to work. Soft music played on the radio, the weather was good, and hopefully the day would be too.

As she got closer to the district, Amy's eyes fell on a group of Police Officers.

Some were walking around, others talking to civilians, and a few were setting up yellow and red tape.

A crime scene. It could be interesting.

Amy quickly pulled over, parked her car, and got out. "Hey," she approached the Officer, who stood by the yellow tape.

The Officer recognized her before he saw her badge, lifting the tape as she ducked under. "Detective."

"What's going on?"

"Patrol Officers found him," he explained as they walked toward the crime scene. "Middle-aged man shot in the head, possibly with a shotgun."

They crossed to the garage, just as more red tape was being set up. Her eyes fell on the body, next to the car. But what really got Amy's attention was the dollar bill on his chest. Odd.

"Thanks." Amy walked up to the body to have a closer look. Two Officers stood close by— she assumed they were the ones who found the body.

The dollar bill was weird. The killer wanted to send a message— but what kind of message?

Then there was a noise that caught her attention. No one reacted to it, so they probably didn't hear it. Her eyes moved to the black car. Something wasn't right. Her instincts screamed— she had to be ready.

She looked at the Officers. "Did you check the car?"

"No," the Officer replied.

Amy inched closer to the vehicle— to the trunk— her hand moving to her gun. As she did so, there was a knock, causing the Officers to almost jump back.

"Open it," she gestured toward the front of the car, grabbing her gun.

The Officer moved to the front of the car. He reached down and, after Amy's signal, he pulled the button that opened the trunk.

It flew open, and Amy pointed the gun at the person inside.

Once she saw the young girl covered in blood, she lowered and then holstered her gun. The blonde had her hands raised, covering her face. "It's alright, we're the police."

Slowly, Amy held out her hand.

The young girl was scared, slowly lowering her hands to see who was talking to her. She was shaken up. Carefully, she took the Detective's hand, letting her guide her out.

And she didn't let go.

Amy turned to the Officers. "Homicide is taking over the crime scene."

One of them nodded. "Understood, Detective." She explained that someone from the unit would be there shortly before gently guiding the young woman away.

The girl clung to Amy's hand as they moved toward the car. Once they reached it, Amy helped her into the passenger seat.

Crouching slightly, Amy met the girl's wide, frightened eyes. "Okay, I'm going to call my boss, then drive to the district. It's safe there. Alright?"

The girl gave a small nod— enough to reassure Amy.

After a brief phone call, Amy started the car, the engine humming as she drove them to the district. During the ride, they talked quietly— not about the murder, just the basics— giving Collette something familiar to hold onto.

Once inside, Amy led Collette into her office, closing the door behind them. The younger girl hugged her arms across her chest, hesitating a moment before sliding onto the chair. Amy pulled up a chair across from her, keeping her posture relaxed but attentive.

"Me and Dad got out of the car," Collette said finally, her voice low, almost a whisper. She shifted in her seat, eyes downcast. "It's like he came out of nowhere, wearing a hoodie..."

Amy nodded slightly, her tone gentle but professional. "Did you get a look at him?"

Collette bit her lip and shook her head. "I... I think so." She paused, glancing up at Amy before quickly looking away. "White. Dark hair. Clean shaven."

"Good," Amy said softly. "That's important. Take your time— you don't have to rush."

Collette's fingers fidgeted with the edge of her sleeve. "And his eyes..." Her voice trembled. "There's nothing behind them. He just had this blank look. And... he just turned the shotgun on my dad and... right in front of me. Who'd do that? A human being wouldn't do that."

Amy stayed quiet, letting the words hang in the room. She kept her voice even, soft, without adding judgment or emotion. "Collette, how did you end up in the trunk?"

Collette flinched, hugging herself tighter, her shoulders hunching. "He... he turned the gun on me, with that same dead look in his eyes. I... I said, 'please, don't kill me.' And... and he nodded at the trunk and told me to get in."

Amy gave a slow nod, watching her carefully. "Alright. That's exactly what you needed to do to stay safe. You were brave, Collette."

Collette took a shaky breath, and for the first time, she met Amy's eyes. Slowly, she began to recount more: how her father had reacted, the sound of the gun, the feel of the cold trunk door closing behind her. Amy listened quietly, occasionally nodding or prompting gently, letting her speak without pushing.

Even in the face of fear, Amy stayed focused on the facts. She wasn't there to console or sympathize— she was there to solve the case, and right now, Collette's words were the first vital pieces of the puzzle.

/////

HOURS PASSED BY, the investigation in full gear.

Amy managed to find clean clothes for Collette. The girl had finally washed the blood off and gotten some food in her— the last part thanks to Marcus.

It was one thing he had in common with Hank. They both cared about victims, especially kids.

Now, Amy sat at her desk, going over everything collected from the scene. Witness statements. Crime scene photos. Initial reports.

She flipped through the images, her eyes scanning every detail. One of the photos caught her attention— shotgun shells, ten gauge.

She studied the image, before the sound of her phone ringing cut through the silence in the office. It was her personal phone— she knew who it was before even checking the caller ID.

Jay.

"Hey, what's up?" she answered.

He skipped the greeting. "First of all, I'm fine." That alone made her look away from the photo in her hand, her focus sharpening instantly. There was something off about the way he said it. "Someone broke into the apartment."

The photo slipped from her fingers, landing softly on the desk. "The bounty," Amy muttered under her breath.

She heard him sigh on the other end. "Yeah. That's what I'm thinking too. They didn't take anything—just trashed it. Went through everything."

Her jaw tightened slightly. "Where are you?" She was already on her feet before the question fully left her mouth.

Jay didn't answer right away. He knew exactly why she was asking. "You don't have to come," he said instead. "I'm fine. You're probably busy." He appreciated it, but didn't want to pull her away from her work.

Amy grabbed her jacket, slipping it on. "Are you at the district?"

A brief pause. "Yeah."

"I'm coming by." He tried to protest, but she hung up before he could.

The drive to the district was quick. Too quick. Her mind didn't slow down once— running through possibilities, connecting it back to the bounty, to whoever had put a target on Jay in the first place.

She pulled into the garage a few minutes later, parking a little harder than usual before stepping out. The sound of the door shutting echoed slightly as she made her way toward the stairs, her pace steady but fast.

By the time she reached the hallway upstairs, Jay was already there.

He spotted her immediately, pushing himself off the wall he'd been leaning against. Even though he had seen her that morning, he'd missed her.

"They tore the place apart," he said as she approached. "Drawers, cabinets... mattress flipped. Like they were looking for something specific."

Amy stopped in front of him, her arms crossed loosely over her chest. "And they didn't take anything?"

Jay shook his head. "Not that I could tell."

She nodded once, processing. "So not a robbery."

"No."

A brief silence settled between them, heavy with the same conclusion.

The bounty.

Amy studied him for a second. "You sure you're okay?"

Jay let out a small breath. "Yeah. I wasn't there."

"Good." Her tone was calm, but firm— decided. "Since they clearly know where you live, we can't stay there. We've been talking about me going back to my apartment and after tonight, you're coming too."

His expression softened. "Amy—"

She held up her hand, stopping him. "It's decided."

He held her gaze for a moment, then gave a small nod. "Alright." She reached into her pocket, pulling out a spare key, which he gladly accepted.

They had enjoyed being roommates, more than either of them would like to admit. "You can grab your things whenever. It's fine. No rush."

Just then she realized how quiet the bullpen was, glancing over his shoulder. "Where's everyone?"

"They left. The case is going slow, it's been a long day."

"What's the case?" She moved past him and started walking towards the bullpen, Jay trailing behind her.

"Two people were killed," he told her as they reached the bullpen. "Both were killed with a shotgun."

They stopped by her old desk. "Shotgun?" She asked. "My case involves a murder and a shotgun too. That's not common."

"It's not." Her eyes moved over the whiteboard— the names, the bodies. Something green on the photos made her do a double take.

Jay noticed. "What is it?"

Amy stepped closer to the whiteboard to look at the crime scene photos. The victims were shot with a shotgun, by the same person.

And once she saw the weapon was a ten gauge and a dollar bill was found on each victim— it clicked.

Her case was connected to theirs.

She turned to face her former partner. "My murder victim was killed by a shotgun, like I said. But, he also had a dollar bill taped to his chest."

His eyes widened slightly as he made the connection too. "Same as ours." The realization made him feel better, because it could mean them working together again. At least, for this case.

"I got a witness. The victim was her father and she saw the guy."

He inched closer. "Where is she?" This was big for their case.

"She is at the district with a sketch artist. Shaken up." He nodded, already thinking ahead. "I'm gonna go over everything again," Amy continued. "Then I'll bring the file and the sketch over tomorrow."

Jay nodded. "Yeah, alright."

She met his eyes, her tone shifting back to firm. "You go to the apartment. Get some sleep."

He didn't argue this time. There was nothing else to do tonight. "I'll see you tomorrow," she added.

Jay gave a small nod. "Yeah. See you tomorrow."

////

SHE KNEW she would be going to the district and see everyone in the bullpen, which would be weird. Amy had seen her former colleagues around, even hanging out with them at Molly's occasionally, but being in the bullpen with them again— that was going to be weird.

Almost strange.

But she was there for a case and kept her focus. The next morning— as promised— she grabbed the file and sketch, before heading over to her old district. Amy went through the garage again.

At least they knew she was coming and this wouldn't be a surprise visit. Once again, Jay stood in the hallway, waiting for her. "You got it?"

She held up the folder. "Right here." Amy followed him into the bullpen, grabbing the sketch as she made her way across the room, all eyes on her. "Alright. This is the guy my witness saw."

They watched as she put the image on the whiteboard, before they studied the sketch. Some shook their heads, not recognizing him.

But Jay did.

He slowly approached the whiteboard, standing parallel to Amy, as he used to do. His eyes didn't leave the sketch and he made sure he got it right.

"That's the kid from the hospital," Jay said, voice low but steady. He turned to the unit. "It's Dale Hansen's son."

They quickly did a background check on Nate Hansen, wanting to know more about him. He was enrolled at the Union Hill Military Academy, which made sense.

They got his address.

"Let's gear up," Hank told the unit. He then turned to Amy, as the others started heading down to the garage. "Your witness, so you're coming too."

"Alright." She nodded, following her former colleagues. Jay threw her a smile over his shoulder as she followed him to the door.

Once in the garage, Amy removed her jacket, leaving her in a tank top. The weather was perfect for that. She grabbed a tactical vest and slipped it on, the elastic bandages wrapping her right shoulder fully visible.

They quickly learned that Nate wasn't home— it was just his dad and sister, Dale and Lauren, sitting on the couch, comforting each other.

Amy stepped forward, Hank behind her, Antonio and Jay flanking her. "I got a witness," she said firmly. "She described the man who shot and killed her father." She showed them the sketch. "Looks like your son."

Jay added quietly, his hands resting on his vest. "I think you got squeezed, wanted some retribution, so you sent your son to do it for you."

Dale shook his head violently. "I swear, we just found out what Nate was doing. He ran off maybe a half hour ago."

The rest of the unit entered after searching the house. Erin spoke up. "We're all clear. No Nate, no weapon."

Hank's gaze was fixed on Dale. "If you had nothing to do with this, how did Nate know who to target?"

Dale's eyes stayed glued to the floor, avoiding theirs. Amy studied him carefully, hand casually resting on her gun. "You don't want to talk because you feel ashamed," she said softly, but with authority.

The words cut through his hesitation. He finally lifted his gaze. "What?" His voice was low, almost a whisper.

Amy's eyes didn't waver. "I'm guessing it has to do with the bruises," she continued, noting the red and blue shades on his face. "Whatever it is, you're going to have to tell us, because your son is out there and he's armed."

Dale nodded slightly, the shame and fear clear on his face. "The three of them— Marcello, Fagan, and Valeo— showed up one night. When I said I'd go to the cops, they threatened my life."

He struggled to compose himself, voice shaking. "My kids... Nate saw them do this. He saw me cower and beg... the look on his face... it's my fault."

Lauren rubbed her father's back, her voice trembling. "If you find Nate, please... don't hurt him."

Alvin's tone was calm but firm. "That's up to him."

Hank turned back to Dale. "Is there anyone else who leaned on you, that your son might go after?"

Dale hesitated, swallowing hard. "Uh... there was a boss I paid money to a few times. Enrietto."

Hank's eyes narrowed slightly. He knew the name. "Don Enrietto," he said quietly.

He was the next target.

They all knew that.

The Sergeant decided it would be best to split the team, so some of them could stay with Dale and Lauren. He ordered half of the team to go with him to Enrietto's house.

They took one car and drove to his house in full speed.

Amy got out of the backseat, joining Jay, Hank and Alvin on the sidewalk. The Sergeant already had a plan.

"All right. I know Enrietto, I'll make the first play." As soon as those words left his mouth, gunshots could be heard coming from inside the house.

Weapons were drawn.

"Cover the back!" Hank ordered Amy and Jay. The Detectives split. She went right; he went left.

Amy held her gun steady, moving toward the side of the house. A slight pull on her shoulder reminded her of the old injury, but she pushed it aside, focusing on the task.

She walked through the overgrown grass, slowly, tactically. Her movements were controlled, her eyes moving around, occasionally glancing over her shoulder.

There was a tree and many bushes— it would be easy to hide there.

But no one was.

Amy rounded the corner of the house and kept walking. There was a fence in front of her— the door open. She picked up the pace.

"Offender fleeing southbound on foot. Dark hoodie!" Jay's voice came through the radio. This caused Amy to pick up her speed toward the fence.

"In pursuit," she called back, pushing off the ground with controlled strides. At the next corner, she spotted Jay, frantically scanning the bush where he had temporarily surrendered his gun.

Amy tightened her grip on the weapon, her heartbeat matching her pace, and sprinted after their killer.

As she ran, she spotted the younger man in the distance and picked up her pace. She had always been a fast runner, and was quickly catching up.

He had the shotgun in his hand. "Stop, Police!" She yelled after him. Her words went ignored and he kept running.

They passed under a bridge cluttered with parked cars— a hurdle in her path. Without hesitation, Amy vaulted onto one of the cars, the alarm blaring. She didn't falter, keeping her eyes on him.

Nate shot through a metal gate and onto the road, nearly colliding with a car— Erin at the wheel. Amy kept her pace, with Jay trailing behind. Nate vaulted over a metal fence.

Amy sprinted full speed toward the fence. Her shoulder throbbed, but she had no time to think. She made a split-second decision— she tossed her gun over the fence first, then swung herself up, minimizing use of her right arm.

Landing with a thud, she snatched her gun from the ground and resumed pursuit.

Jay, Erin, and Kevin followed close behind.

Amy caught up to him, aware that Jay, Erin and Kevin were behind her.

"Nate! Stop!" she yelled again, but he ignored her. She glided through another narrow gap, pushing past fatigue. The gun weighed heavy in her hand, and pain radiated down her shoulder and arm, but she clenched her teeth and kept moving.

Ahead, stairs led down to the train tracks. She didn't want to descend— but there was no choice. Dropping the gun to the side, knowing the area was clear, she picked up her pace.

As Nate stepped onto the platform, ready to climb down, Amy was on him. She tackled him hard, crashing to the ground with a thud. He let out a pained groan.

Pain shot through her shoulder as she twisted him onto his stomach. She pressed her left hand onto his back, tucking her right arm close to her torso. Her jaw clenched, teeth gritted against the pain.

Jay reached her side in seconds. He saw the strain immediately. "I got him," he said, holstering his gun as he handcuffed Nate.

Amy slowly stood, rubbing her shoulder, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts. She had him— but her body was screaming for relief.

Letting out a small chuckle, Jay shook his head. "You're unreal," he muttered, looking at Amy. And he definitely meant that as a compliment.

She gave him a small, tired smile, keeping her right arm pressed against her stomach like a sling as she reached with her left hand to grab her radio. "Offender is in custody," she said, then slid the radio back into the pocket of her vest.

"You dropped this," Erin said casually, walking up with Amy's gun in hand. "Twice." She smiled, still impressed by what Amy had just done.

Amy took the gun, holstering it on her right hip with her left hand while keeping her injured arm tucked against her stomach. "It was weighing me down," she said, her voice steady but with a hint of dry humor.

Kevin muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. "Damn. You're fast, Detective."

Amy glanced at him, a small, appreciative smile tugging at her lips. "Thanks, Atwater," she said, grabbing Nate's weapon from the ground.

Jay gripped Nate's arm. "Let's go." He walked next to Amy as they moved toward the car, his eyes flicking to her shoulder. "You holding up okay?"

Amy kept her arm pressed to her chest, nodding. She noticed a small change in herself— she smiled briefly at Kevin's comment, a lightness she rarely allowed in the past. Four months of living with Jay had done that, even if it didn't change the way she kept her guard up.

////

AMY PRESSED THE ICE PACK against her shoulder, which was already feeling way better than before. She refused to go to the doctor over it, knowing she was gonna be fine.

"Can I have another one?" Erin asked the bartender.

"You got it." The bartender replied. She grabbed Erin's empty glass and went to pour her another drink. She turned to Jay, who sat between her and Amy.

"You're sleeping with her," Erin said to Jay, who was taken aback.

"What? No." He couldn't help but glance at Amy, almost like he didn't want her to think that. "I am not sleeping with her."

Erin smirked slightly, before she got more serious. "You know what? I believe you. I don't think you'd be sleeping with her since you have that crush."

He froze, not knowing how to respond.

Amy turned to face him, a small frown on her face as she adjusted the ice pack. "Crush? What crush?"

Jay opened his mouth, ready to deny everything, but Erin beat him to it. "Oh, it's harmless. He won't say who it is, but he definitely got the heart-eyes."

Maddie came over with Erin's drink before attending to another customer.

Amy kept looking at Jay— curious. "You haven't mentioned having a crush on anyone. Is it someone embarrassing? Is it a lawyer?"

Erin chuckled, almost spitting out her drink. She pointed at Amy. "Someone he arrested, maybe."

Jay held his hands out. "There is no crush." The women eyed him, not really believing it.

Amy had no idea about this, but now that Erin mentioned it, it would make sense. And if Jay was lying and there was someone— she wondered who it could be.

She picked up her glass of water, taking a sip. Her shoulder was starting to get a little too cold so she put the ice pack down on the bar counter.

The bell alerted them that someone had entered the bar, which they didn't think too much of.

Amy's hand stilled around her glass.

Something felt off.

She turned slightly, eyes landing on the man by the door— his hand already coming up, a gun in it.

"Get down!"

She shoved Jay and Erin off their stools, forcing them down just as the first shot rang out.

The sound exploded through the bar. Glass shattered. People screamed. Chairs scraped harshly against the floor as others dropped, ducking for cover.

Amy hit the ground hard, her right shoulder protesting instantly. The pain flared sharp, but she ignored it, keeping low as more shots followed— directed toward them.

Erin reacted fast, pulling her gun and firing back from a crouched position, using a table for partial cover.

Jay stayed low beside them, eyes tracking the shooter, unable to return fire but fully alert.

Then—

A heavy thud behind the bar.

Amy's head snapped in that direction.

The bartender.

Without hesitation, Amy pushed herself forward, keeping her right arm tight against her body as she moved. She crawled quickly behind the bar, using her left arm to pull herself along.

The bartender was down, blood spreading from her neck.

Amy grabbed a towel with her left hand and pressed it firmly against the wound, applying steady pressure.

"Hey— stay with me!" She leaned in just enough to keep the pressure consistent without shifting her injured shoulder.

The bartender's breathing was uneven, panicked.

Amy adjusted the towel slightly, increasing the pressure with her left hand, her right arm still tucked protectively against her torso.

Gunfire still echoed in the background. People were shouting, crying, scrambling.

Amy stayed focused.

Jay reached them, eyes wide as he took in the scene. He crouched beside Amy, glancing from her to the bartender.

"I'm going after him!" Erin yelled, already running toward the exit as the shooter backed out the door.

Amy didn't hesitate. "Jay, call 911! Now!"

He nodded, fumbling for his phone as he dialed, glancing quickly at Amy to make sure she had the situation under control.

Amy kept her attention on the bartender, pressing the towel firmly, her mind sharp despite the chaos around them.