You Know Her (Part I)
pairing: Jay Halstead x Female Reader
requested: no
word count: Less than 600
warnings: kidnapping, guns, child endangerment, emotional distress, restrained but intense angst
summary: When Jay comes home to a house that’s too quiet and a detail his wife (the reader) would never overlook, he knows instantly something is wrong. As Intelligence races to find the reader and their four-year-old twins, Jay has to hold himself together long enough to bring his family home.
The house is too quiet.
Jay doesn’t notice it at first.
He’s halfway through texting you, “ Walking through the front door.” when he pushes open the front door.
“Boys?” he calls casually, toeing off his boots.
Silence.
That’s not unusual. Sometimes you take them upstairs for baths early. Sometimes cartoons are blaring.
But tonight? Nothing.
He steps further inside.
And then he sees it.
The back door.
Cracked open.
Jay freezes.
You never leave it open, at all. Not after everything. Not with two four-year-olds who think the world is one big playground.
His voice tightens.
“Babe?”
Still nothing.
He moves fast now, clearing rooms instinctively, weapon drawn, heart in his throat.
Kitchen, empty.
Living room, toys scattered, couch pillows knocked sideways.
And then he sees the thing that makes his blood go cold.
One of the twins’ shoes.
Just one.
Dropped in the middle of the hallway.
You would never let them go outside without both shoes on.
Ever.
Jay’s breathing changes.
He moves toward the stairs.
Halfway up, he sees it.
Your phone.
On the third step, cracked.
You never leave without your phone.
Not with the boys.
His hand shakes as he picks it up.
There’s a smear on the screen.
He doesn’t let himself think about what it might be.
He pulls out his own phone.
“Voight,” he panics the second it connects.
“Yeah?”
“They’re gone.”
A beat.
“What?”
“Y/N, the boys. House is cleared. Backdoor was left open. Her phone’s here. Something happened.”
He hears chairs scraping in the background.
“We’re on our way.”
Jay lowers the phone slowly.
He stares at the hallway.
His mind is working, calculating entry points, timing, neighbors’ cameras.
But underneath it?
Something animal.
Something terrified.
“Hold it together,” he mutters to himself.
Because if he doesn’t?
He won’t survive this.
-
It’s dark.
Concrete walls.
The twins are tied together back-to-back with soft zip ties — scared but not gagged.
You kneel in front of them.
Your own wrists bound.
“Hey,” you whisper softly. “Look at me. Look at Mommy.”
Their eyes are wet.
“They’re going to come get us, right?” one of them sniffles.
You swallow the fear clawing at your throat.
“Yes.”
Absolute certainty in your voice.
“Daddy always comes.”
One of the men laughs from behind you.
“You sound really confident.”
You turn your head slowly.
Because you will not let him see you break.
“I’m sure of it.”
-AT THE DISTRICT
Camera footage finally hits the screen.
A black SUV, three masked men, you fighting.
Jay’s jaw clenches when he sees it.
You swing first.
Of course you do.
One of the boys tries to run.
You throw yourself over him.
Jay exhales sharply.
“She kept them behind her,” Burgess whispers.
Voight looks at Jay.
“You raised them strong.”
Jay’s voice is tight.
“She did.”
-
One of the men kneels in front of you.
“You know who your husband is messing with?”
You stare at him.
“Noone. He’s clean. He's a good guy. He was in the rangers.”
The man grabs your chin roughly.
“That’s cute. You sure?”
You don’t flinch.
“Positive.”
He squeezes your face, harder.
“You’re not scared?”
Your voice is steady.
“Try me.”
You pause.
“You don’t even know what’s coming.”
