𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝𝐬
*Gif and pics not mine, credits to the owner*
• Pairing: Jay Halstead X Fem!Reader.
• Requested by anon: here.
• Warnings: mention of gun shots, prostitution, drugs, blood, violence, curse words. Let me know if there’s something else lol.
• Word count: 10k.
• A/N: guess who’s backkkk. Sorry for this I know it’s a long one lmao but I hope you like it, let me know in the comments what you think guys! I missed you so much, I’m trying to get back to writing even if it’s harder than I thought 😭 thank you always for your support, and thank you especially to everyone who stayed. I love you all ❤️
“Hey Halstead, you could finish filling out this case report instead of decorating the office,” you began, throwing him a paper ball from your desk, which was directly across from his. He almost jumped, then pretended like it hadn’t caught him off guard, but you didn’t miss it, and that was enough to make you laugh shamelessly.
He shot you a dirty look before picking up the paper ball that had fallen onto his laptop and throwing it back at you. You, however, weren’t taken aback and managed to catch it.
“Sorry, Miss Detective, but I haven’t gotten a master’s degree in hieroglyphics yet, so next time please write in English.”
You pressed your lips together because — you hated to admit it — that joke almost made you laugh. Almost.
You and Jay had been working together in Intelligence for years, having joined the team a year after him. You couldn’t exactly call your relationship with Jay idyllic, not the kind of relationship you had between friends. In fact, you bickered more often than you were ‘at peace.’
You didn’t mind, though. It’d be an exaggeration to say you hated Jay, he wasn’t the most pleasant company sometimes either, but he was a solid partner, and for some strange and absurd reason, your partnership worked and it worked very well.
Whether in the field, during interrogations, or on undercover missions, you and Jay had a connection that would’ve had a hard time believing.
It was true, you bickered often, you almost never agreed, there wasn’t a moment when one of you didn’t say something the other didn’t respond to with a stinging, sarcastic retort. You were both stubborn as mules, your personalities clashed like lightning and thunder, but outside the unit, you knew you could count on him, and he on you. And that would never change.
Before you could respond to his answer—and by respond, you meant throwing him the paper ball again—Voight’s gravelly voice urged you to stop wasting time and get to work right away.
You returned to the files on your desk, but not before glaring at Jay, who winked back at you, a mischievous smile plastered across his lips before he, too, resumed reading the report.
A wink. A damn wink.
Did you mention that one of the reasons you found Jay Halstead so damn annoying was that he was so handsome and attractive that it made your blood boil? Well, now you know.
It wasn't something you struggled to hide—you were the kind of person who managed to stay in control—but you hated the way that man seemed to make every cell in your body ignite with excitement, and how damnably drawn you were to him like a moth to a flame, despite him being unbearable most of the time.
The calm of the morning was suddenly interrupted when a case came in. Intelligence had been called following the kidnapping of the mayor’s son. Since it was a high-profit case, all the city’s attention was focused on it, and the entire police force was working on it.
The team worked day and night to bring Nate home, turning the boy’s and his father’s lives upside down. There were many suspects; there were many people who hated the mayor and who might have targeted the boy to get revenge on his father.
“It’s personal, of course. They made no calls, no ransom demands or money, no ‘don’t involve the police or your son is dead,’ whoever kidnapped Nate knew what they were getting into; they kidnapped him to directly attack the mayor,” Jay had said while the team was in the unit discussing the case. You glanced at Jay as he spoke, you sitting at your desk and he sitting on the edge of his, arms crossed over his chest. Voight nodded, agreeing with Halstead.
“And it’s a team effort. No one could kidnap the mayor’s son alone and go unnoticed,” Kim continued.
“We need to divide the tasks and we need to hurry, the boy’s life is hanging in the balance. Like Halstead said, it’s personal, so whoever kidnapped him won’t kill him until they get something from the mayor. This gives us some time to investigate possible suspects,” Voight intervened. “Atwater and Burgess interview all his friends and any possible witnesses. Ruzek and Upton locate nearby cameras and analyze the footage. Halstead and Y/Ln investigate the mayor’s background, threatening calls or letters, anything that might indicate a threat.”
You and Jay exchanged a look, and he wiggled his eyebrows, making you roll your eyes in annoyance before you stood up from your desk.
“I’ll drive,” Jay said as you headed to the car to talk to the mayor himself. The tension between you was palpable, but as usual, you suppressed it, trying to convince yourself it was just the tension from the case you were investigating.
Before you could respond, you saw him heading for the driver’s seat and huffed loudly, getting in the car yourself a few seconds later. “I’m perfectly capable of driving too, you know?”
Jay glanced at you, unconsciously taking a few extra nanoseconds to look at you as you put on your seatbelt. “I want to get to the destination alive, nothing personal.”
His gaze lingered for a moment on your profile, the line of your nose and jaw, the outline of your lips. It lasted almost literally a millisecond, and as soon as he saw you turning toward him, he immediately looked away, taking the car keys from his pants pocket and inserting them into the ignition.
“You didn’t just say that after I saved your life in that car chase last week.”
He laughed softly as he started the car, unable to resist looking at you again. “You’re never going to let it go, are you?”
A triumphant smile spread across your face, and Jay sucked in a breath. “No. Never.”
He remained still for a moment, one hand resting on the steering wheel. There was only a few moments of silence, during which the only sound echoing was that of the engine having just started. Every trace of your teasing smiles had vanished from your faces as your eyes met, his deep, searching ones staring at you, studying you with such intensity you almost looked away.
But you didn’t.
And neither did he, not in that moment.
If Jay had looked down, he would’ve seen the way your fingers were gripping the edges of your jacket tightly, how your breathing had slowed, heavier, as if every breath of air was struggling to reach your lungs.
Jay wanted to say something, he knew exactly what, and he knew that if he did, nothing would be the same again, so he was the first to look away. He couldn’t look you in the eyes anymore, not when those irises seemed to want to suck him alive.
The silence hung heavy inside that cabin, filled with unspoken words and unexpressed thoughts.
As Jay drove, he tried to keep his focus on the road, on the case, and not on the woman sitting next to him, whose presence seemed to fill every space of his being.
But he couldn’t help but think about the fact that he didn’t always have the chance to look at you that closely, that often, if not from afar. He’d almost forgotten all those details of your face that he couldn’t admire from afar, every little imperfection and detail of your skin that made you unique.
Because from afar, he couldn’t notice those details. He could only look at you when you were talking to Kim, for example, while you were all together in the kitchen drinking that awful coffee, when you gesticulated with your hands while discussing something, looking at you furrow your brows when you were perplexed, highlighting the little wrinkles in the middle of your forehead.
He could only see how you tied your hair with a pencil when you didn’t have a ponytail, how strangely you held your pen while filling out case reports, how you threw your head back when you laughed heartily and had the habit of hitting the arm of anyone nearby. But he also saw when he occasionally caught you looking at him and how you blushed when he did, then pretended nothing was wrong or just gave him the middle finger out of spite.
“Planet Earth calling Halstead, are you still here among us mere mortals?” Your voice caught his attention, not even realizing how lost he was in his thoughts.
“Sorry, you’re so annoying my brain tuned out your voice for a moment,” he couldn’t help but retort, because if there was one thing he loved to do and looked forward to every day, it was to piss you off.
He couldn’t help but chuckle when you hit him on the arm. “Piece of shit.”
“Oh c’mon, I was just kidding. I was just thinking about the case. What were you saying?”
What a load of bullshit, buddy.
You started discussing the case, and that brief moment, that dangerous exchange of glances that had taken place only minutes before, seemed to have already faded into oblivion, and he tried to convince himself, trying to forget how much it had made his heart skip a beat.
A notification on your phone interrupted the conversation for a few seconds. about the case, and when you unlocked it, you saw a message and a missed call.
From Mr. Sanders:
Y/n, I tried calling you, but I assume you‘re at work. Call me as soon as you can, it’s important.
A feeling of anxiety made your stomach twist. Mr. David Sanders was a man in his fifties, elegant and refined in appearance, and he was your lawyer.
Jay glanced at you, noticing your momentary silence, frowning for a moment as he saw you quickly typing on your phone.
“Everything okay over there?” Jay began, breaking the silence.
You quickly locked the phone before putting it back in your jacket, immediately adopting your usual cheeky and provocative expression. “What’s up, Halstead? You afraid I’m cheating on you?”
But Jay knew you well. Too well, even though you’d never admit it and he knew something was bothering you.
He also knew you’d never tell him willingly, always wanting to put on the superhero mask that could solve everything on her own, no matter what the problem.
“Have any of you noticed anything strange? A suspicious car, any unusual behavior?” Jay asked, addressing the mayor directly once you reached his house.
“What the hell do you care about this? My boy is God knows where, and you’re wasting your time with these stupid questions?!”
"We understand your frustration and assure you that our team and the entire police force are working tirelessly to find your son, and we won’t stop until he comes home,” you replied, your voice calm, understanding a father's frustration and concern for his son. “But we have reason to believe this attack is personal, so anything you can tell us can help us find the man who did this and your son’s whereabouts.”
The mayor ran his hands over his face in frustration, getting up from the couch and pacing around the living room.
“I get threatening letters practically every week. It’s hard to keep track of them and separate the serious ones from the fake ones.”
“Were any of these letters particularly violent or specific? Anything that might indicate a premeditated plan?” Jay asked, his hands in his pockets as his eyes followed the mayor as he paced nervously around the living room.
He hesitated for a moment, as if considering it, then nodded. “There was a letter a couple of months ago. It was about revenge. It said I would pay with ‘what I love most.’ It was disturbing, but there was nothing concrete.” The mayor gasped, starting to cry desperately. “It’s my fault… I… My boy, my baby…”
You and Jay exchanged a meaningful look before he approached the mayor, placing a hand on his shoulder and steadying him. Your heart broke for that poor, broken family, unable to begin to imagine what they were going through. “It’s not your fault, okay? Look at me, Mr. King. Your son is fine. Whoever did this wants to make you suffer. They haven’t gotten what they really want yet, and if they still haven’t reached out, it means Nate is still alive; they won’t do anything to him without your knowledge. That’s the point of his kidnapping.”
The mayor wiped away his tears, nodding feebly. “I’ll give you the letter.”
Scanning it, you noticed that the language was indeed violent and specific, but the signature was only an initial: “R.”
Jay tilted his head, thoughtful, before turning to the mayor. “It seems personal, like we said before. Do you recognize that initial?”
“I-I don’t… I don’t know… It could be anyone. Like I said, I have a lot of enemies,” he replied.
“We’ll have our technicians analyze it right away. We’ll let you know as soon as we know anything,” you said. “We’ll find Nate.”
During the rest of the day, you worked tirelessly, but your mind was racing, and you hated yourself for realizing that none of it was directed at the case.
Your attention was focused solely on that message from Sanders, on what he had to tell you. When you called him, you were in the locker room. It was already seven in the evening, and with each ring, your heart was beating faster and faster.
“Hello dear, it’s nice to hear you, how are you?” Mr. Sanders answered.
“Good evening, Dave. I’m fine thank you. I’m sorry to bother you now, but I’m busy with work. There’s a case…”
“Oh yeah, that boy’s kidnapping, I suppose. Bad story.”
“Yeah,” you sighed. “What did you want to talk about? It doesn’t take a detective to figure out it’s not something good.”
Sanders chuckled, but it was a bitter laugh, there was no humor behind it. “It’s about Marcus.”
Your breath caught for a moment. “What about him?”
“I’m so sorry, Y/n, I did everything in my power, but…” he sighed this time. “He got parole, he’s out of prison.”
“What?” You said, but it came out moreIt was like a whisper, and for a moment you prayed you’d misheard, that your brain hadn't processed those words correctly. “How is this possible? After everything he did... To those girls, those people... To me!”
You were furious, not at Sanders, but at the system that was supposed to protect you.
“I’m so sorry. He got a deal after leaking the names of several big people, and we’re not talking about just any people, but political figures, senators, doctors, lawyers, CEOs...”
“And obviously, some people’s names are worth more than justice.”
“I wish I could say you’re not right, but you know I’m on your side darling. I did everything I could,” he spoke. “But you’ll be safe, he’ll be monitored closely and the first mistake he makes he’ll be back in prison...”
You let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through your hair in frustration. “And you think that’ll stop him?” you snapped. “I have to go, Dave, thanks for letting me know.”
“Y/n, wait, how are you now?”
“I’ll be fine,” you muttered. You were brought back to Earth when the locker room door opened, revealing Jay with a tired, worn-out expression. “I have to go, bye.”
You ended the call and then casually tossed your phone into your bag, trying to act as if nothing had happened.
You’d be fine. Whatever happened, you’d be able to get through it, like you always did.
“I thought you’d left,” he spoke first as he looked while he approached his locker. He watched you pretend to search for something in your locker and immediately noticed how you constantly avoided his gaze.
“Apparently not yet,” you replied in a cold, distant tone.
Jay didn’t respond, but as he opened his locker, he continued to steal glances at you. Even a blind man could’ve noticed your tense posture, your frown, your heavy breathing, the way you avoided his gaze.
He’d noticed something had shifted since you’d gotten that call, but he tried to mind his own business, knowing that if he asked you anything, you’d probably just shoot him in the face.
“Well, see you tomorrow.”
“Yeah, goodnight.”
Jay left, but not before giving you one last look. You weren’t looking at him; your eyes seemed to be focused on something undefined.
You sat in the locker room for an eternity as your mind replayed your last encounter with Marcus Kane, his angry shouts, the threats he’d scream at you.
“I’ll come back, you bitch! You’ll pay for what you did to me! If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll kill you!” He screamed as they handcuffed him and led him into the police car, and those were the last words you heard before you lost consciousness, submerged in a pool of your own blood.
Your hand instinctively went to the scar on your side as those words continued to echo in your own, as if they had been spoken only moments before, as if you could still feel the knife piercing your skin.
You left, closing the door behind you, hoping that all of this was just a nightmare.
Three days had passed since that call, and you continued working.
Nothing happened, you didn’t receive any threatening calls but you always watched your back, your gun always within reach even when you slept, or at least when you tried.
In three days, you’d probably slept five hours, and the fatigue was starting to set in. You were stressed, constantly on edge, you had the constant feeling that someone was following you, and you knew Marcus Kane was out there waiting for you; you could sense him waiting for the right moment to attack you.
For three days, you worked nonstop on the case, day and night, to bring Nate home. He was still alive; there was video evidence of the kidnapper forcing him to demand his own ransom, after beating him almost to death.
“You’re going to give yourself a heart attack with all that caffeine,” Jay said, leaning against the kitchen doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. He didn’t expect to see you jump in fright, and he didn’t know whether to suppress a laugh or worry, because you weren’t the type of person who scared easily.
“You bastard,” you muttered in a not-so-low voice, not even looking at him, making him chuckle. “Thanks, but I didn’t ask for your medical advice, Halstead.”
“It was just an observation,” he commented, seeing the almost obsessive way you were stirring the sugar in your coffee.
“Well, go make observations somewhere else,” you replied, your back still turned toward him.
There was a brief moment of silence, as he continued to observe you, your stiff posture, the way you avoided looking him in the eye. Jay wasn’t stupid; he’d noticed this sort of change since you’d received that call. But he didn’t want to push you, he knew you’d withdraw even further.
You then turned to leave, but he pushed himself from the doorframe, preventing you from leaving. He noticed the slight tremor in your hand holding the cup and he couldn’t just act like nothing was happening. “Hey, are you okay?”
You sighed, your eyes still fixed on your cup before finally looking up at him. “I’m fine.”
A curt, mechanical reply, devoid of any emotion.
He looked at you for a few moments, his eyes fixed on yours almost as if he wanted to study you, as if he was searching for some way to extract the answers he knew he’d never voluntarily receive from you.
“Y/n. You’ve been fine for three days,” he replied, his voice tightening. “You’re not sleeping, you jump at the slightest noise. Whenever we’re out, all you do is look around.”
“You like me that much, huh?”
“I’m being serious, this isn’t you. What’s going on?”
Your jaw clenched. “You don’t know me well enough to decide what’s me and what’s not, do you?”
He let out a sigh, trying to keep his voice calm. “We’ve been working together for a while now, and I know fear when I see it.”
The silence that followed was heavy. You felt your throat tighten but swallowed hard, refusing to show it. “Drop it, Jay.”
He sighed again, realizing it’d be completely pointless to push any further. “Fine, do whatever you want.”
“Good.” And with that, you walked past him back to your desk.
-
The night air smelled of rain and tension, cold against your skin. The sound of water hitting the rusty metal of the warehouse provided a soft background, even soothing at times.
Through the earpiece, the team’s voices alternated with the crackling radio.
“Unit one in position.”
“Copy that.”
“Unit two.”
“Copy that.” Jay replied, ducking behind a stack of crates, his rifle ready. You were a little further ahead, your eyes fixed on the road, your fingers on your weapon, ready.
The money would be exchanged between the kidnapper and the mayor, and Intelligence was there, ready to capture the man and save the boy.
You kept looking around, nervous, impatient. Jay had noticed it, and he would be lying if he said it didn’t worry him.
“Breathe, Y/n,” Jay murmured, noticing the way you were trembling.
“I’m fine. I’m just cold, Halstead,” you replied, quickly glancing at him. Your clothes were now stuck on your skin, that much was true, and at other times you might’ve even been able to convince him, but not now, not with what had been happening to you lately.
“Let me know when you’ll believe it.”
You didn’t reply, but he knew you’d heard him.
“Target incoming,” Ruzek’s voice broke the silence.
A black van approached, its headlights now off, and stopped a few meters from the entrance to the old warehouse. Everyone was silent, their breath held, the rain being the only sound.
A man climbed out of the driver’s seat. He walked around the van and, instead of opening the door, remained standing there, his furious gaze fixed on the mayor standing a few meters away, the bag containing the money in his hands.
A mask covered his face so you couldn’t see him. But it didn’t matter, the plan was simple. Get eyes on the kid. Make the exchange. Take the man down.
But it wasn’t simple. It never was.
“Here’s your money, where’s my son?” The mayor’s voice was shaky.
“Give me my money first.”
“That wasn’t the deal. Give me my son and I’ll give you the money.”
The man pointed his gun at the mayor, and everyone stiffened, their weapons raised, ready for an order.
“Wait.” Voight ordered.
“You’ll pay for what you did to me,” the man retorted, and then the back doors of the van opened, but instead of the boy, two other masked men stepped out, both armed and their weapons ready to shoot.
“Gun!” Jay shouted, grabbing your arm and shoving you behind cover as the team spread out.
Your heart pounded in your ears.
Your eyes landed on the van and you saw a figure lying down in the back, you didn’t even know who it was. You didn’t think. You just moved.
Ignoring Jay’s warning, you broke from behind the crate, sprinting toward the van while bullets snapped past your head. The sound was deafening, every step a gamble. You almost reached it—
“Y/n!”
Jay’s voice cuts through everything. A second later, something hit you hard, him. He slammed into you, taking you down just as a bullet grazed the concrete where you’d been standing.
You hit the ground with a grunt, the impact knocking the breath from your lungs. Jay’s body covered yours, solid and heavy, his hand pressed against the back of your head to shield you as he returned fire.
For a moment, just a heartbeat, everything stilled.
The world narrowed to the smell of gunpowder and the sound of your ragged breaths tangled together. His eyes found yours, only inches away, fierce, terrified, and something else you couldn’t name.
Then his expression hardened.
“What the fuck were you thinking?!” he snappep, still half-hovering over you. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?!”
“I—I saw him—”
“I don’t care!” he barked, voice sharp, chest rising and falling fast. “You move like that again, and you’re dead, do you hear me?!”
You swallowed hard, your pulse racing for reasons that had nothing to do with adrenaline. “Get off me.”
He hesitated — just for a second — before pushing himself up, still glaring at you as he scanned the perimeter.
The team closed in, the gunfire fading, suspects down, the boy saved, crying in his father’s arms. But Jay didn’t look away from you.
You brushed dirt off your vest, trying to ignore the sting in your arm where you’d hit the ground. “I had it under control.”
He lets out a low, humorless laugh, trying to keep his voice steady even if he was about to lose his mind. “Yeah. Sure you did.”
He walked off before you could answer, leaving you standing, breathing still shaking, and for some reason, the only thing you could think about was the look in his eyes when he’d covered you.
It wasn’t anger. It was fear.
The ride back was suffocatingly quiet and for the first time in your life you hated that Jay didn’t say anything, you hated he didn’t make his usual jokes just to piss you off, you hated he didn’t even look at you.
Streetlights flickered through the windshield, washing the inside of the car in flashes of yellow and shadow. The sirens had gone silent, replaced only by the steady hum of the tires on the asphalt.
You sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window, your hands still faintly trembling. Every time you blinked, you could see it again, the van doors bursting open, the muzzle flashes, the moment Jay threw himself over you.
He still hadn’t said a single word since you got in the car.
Not one.
And somehow, that was worse than him yelling.
Finally, his knuckles tightened around the steering wheel. “What the hell were you thinking out there?”
You didn’t turn. “I was just thinking about Nate, I saw him there…”
“You almost got yourself killed.”
“I had it under control.”
His jaw clenched. “No, you didn’t. For fucks sake stop lying to me and yourself, you did something stupid and for once in your fucking life admit it.”
Silence again thick and heavy. You swallowed hard, your voice lowering. “You don’t need to babysit me, Halstead. I can take care of myself.”
“What’s happening to you? Why are you acting like this?”
You turned at that, glaring at him. “You don’t know me. You don’t know what I’ve—” You stopped, realizing your voice had cracked. You looked away quickly, blinking hard.
You felt his eyes on you but you refused to look back, you weren’t able to look at him without breaking down.
Jay’s voice softened slightly, though frustration still edged it. “You’re right. I don’t know. But I know what I saw and... And it scared the hell out of me.”
That caught you off guard. You looked at him, but this time it was him who didn’t look back. He continued, his voice lower now, almost speaking to himself. “You can hate me all you want, but I’m not gonna stand there and watch you get yourself shot.”
You didn’t know what to say. The words tangled in your throat.
You wanted to be angry, to snap something back… But all you felt was exhaustion.
“You didn’t have to save me.”
He was glancing at you and for the first time he didn’t know what to say.
The rest of the drive passed in silence.
When he pulled up in front of your building, you reached for the handle, but his hand landed gently on your arm. “You should call someone to stay with you tonight. After what happened...”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Stop saying…”
“I said I’ll be fine,” you repeated, already opening the door. You stepped out before he could say anything else, the cold air biting at your skin, already frozen due to the soaked clothes.
Jay watched you until you disappeared inside, that same gnawing unease twisting in his gut for days.
Your mind had managed to not think about what was happening to you for a few hours, but in your home, alone, those thoughts hit you again like a raging river.
You just wanted to sleep, you wanted so badly to close your eyes and rest just for a little bit, but Marcus Kane was still out there, hiding in the shadows, ready to attack you. How could you rest?
It had been almost four days since that call, and you hadn’t known peace since. You knew he’d look for you, that it wouldn’t take him long to find you, and you hated it all. You hated this wait, you hated the fear, you hated being scared to death in your own home, the place where you should feel most safe, you hated even having to shower with your gun beside you.
The apartment was quiet, too quiet.
You’d just stepped out of the shower, towel-drying your hair as you walked into the living room. The air still smelled faintly of shampoo and coffee.
For once, you thought maybe you could finally breathe.
But then the lights flickered.
And you froze, a prickle crawled up your neck.
You turned slowly toward the window, your heart almost stopped when you realized the lock was undone.
You remembered locking it. You knew you had because you checked it as soon as you got home.
How the hell was that possible?
Your pulse started pounding, sharp and shallow. You set the towel down, reaching for your gun that you now carried everywhere.
And then a voice, that voice.
“I always told you that your pride would be your downfall, sweetheart.”
You spun around and there he was.
Marcus Kane.
He was older, meaner, eyes burning with the same kind of hate you’d seen the day he was dragged into custody.
He took a step toward you, smirking. “Didn’t think you’d actually make it easy for me,” he muttered, glancing around. “Nice place, by the way. Better than the dump where I found you playing the perfect girlfriend.”
“Stay back,” you warned, gun raised, while trying to keep your hands as still as possible. “Don’t take another step,” your voice steady, not wanting to show fear. That was what he enjoyed most, seeing his victims scared to death, but you didn’t want to show him, you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.
“Oh, come on,” he said, voice dripping with mock affection. “After everything we’ve been through, you don’t even want to say hello?”
He didn’t even give you time to react.
The gun went flying as he slammed into you, both of you crashing into the coffee table but not before a shot landed in the void. Pain shot through your ribs as the wood cracked beneath you. He tried to pin you down, his forearm crushing against your throat, but you drove your knee into his side, hard.
He grunted, stumbled, and you scrambled to your feet, gasping. “You ruined my life!” he snarled, grabbing your wrist before punching you square in the face, making you step back. “Did you have fun pretending to fall in love with me? Making me trust you? You fucking bitch!”
You didn’t think, you just reacted.
It was your turn to punch him across the jaw, and you did it with all your strength, enough to make him stagger back.
He roared and swung again, but this time you were ready and dodged it. You shoved him back, grabbed the lamp from the side table, and smashed it against his head. He shouted, stumbled into the wall, enough for you to bolt toward the door. Or at least try.
He grabbed your hoodie, yanking you backward, and you felt the fabric tear, his breath hot against your ear. “Where do you think you’re going, sweetheart? We have unfinished business, you and I. You won’t get away that easily.”
You elbowed him in the side, and that was enough to make him loosen his grip around your neck, making it easy for you to turn toward him and punch him in the nose again. The crack was sickening, blood spraying as he cursed and fell to one knee.
You hit him in the face with your knee, with such force that he fell to the ground.
A kick to the stomach.
And another.
And another one.
And then you ran.
Down the hallway, out the door, barefoot, your heart thundering as his shouts echoed behind you.
You didn’t stop running, not when your feet hit the pavement, not when your shoulder screamed in pain, not when you realized you’d left everything behind except fear.
The TV was on, but Jay’s mind was focused on everything except the movie playing. He sipped occasionally from his beer bottle and couldn’t help but relive what had happened that day, the shooting, and you.
To be honest, he’d always had a hard time not thinking about you, even though he tried to convince himself otherwise.
What woke him from his reverie were loud knocks on the door, sharp, urgent.
He jumped and glanced at the clock: 12:47 AM.
Who the hell was that at that time?
He approached the door, and his heart almost stopped as he looked through the peephole.
He threw the door open, and there you were.
“Y/n...” he whispered, almost breathless, as his eyes scanned your body. You were soaked from head to toe, barefoot, your eyes wide open, tears mixing with the drops of water running down your cheeks, your body trembling. “What the hell—? Oh my god. What... What happened?”
A sob left your lips. “I… I don’t know where else to go…”
“Jesus Christ… Come here,” he without even thinking once pulled you into a hug, wrapping his arms around your body. He didn’t care you were soaked from head to toe, he just wanted to hold you. “Shh, it’s okay… It’s all right, you’re safe now.”
To his surprise, you returned the hug, as you continued to sob, your fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt as if it was your lifeline.
In all the years he’d known you, he’d never seen you like this, ever.
“It’s okay, everything’s okay, I’m here, I won’t let you go,” he kept whispering as he stroked your hair and held you tightly against his chest.
His stomach twisted with a feeling he’d never experienced before, with a rage so strong he’d raze the entire city if he could.
“Hey, look at me,” he whispered softly, pulling away from that embrace just enough to look at you. You avoided his gaze, as you had been doing for the past couple of days. “Look at me.”
The first thing he noticed when you slightly lifted your head was the purple bruise forming on your cheek. He wanted so badly to caress you, to wipe away those tears he hated to see, but he didn’t, he didn’t want to scare you away, make you feel uncomfortable.
“Talk to me, please. Who did this to you?” His voice was soft, sweet—a tone he’d never used with you—even as he tried to mask the anger and fear he was feeling in that moment.
You shook your head, not saying a word.
“Okay, okay, it’s okay, you don’t have to tell me now, okay? Come inside.”
You didn’t say anything, simply letting him lead you into his house, his hand on the small of your back as if he feared you might disappear at any moment.
It was ironic that this was the first time you’d seen his apartment and it was because something horrible had happened to you.
“Do you want anything? Some water? I can get you some clean clothes. You can take a shower if you want.”
You nodded, though you didn’t answer any of his questions. Jay stepped away for a moment, his heart still pounding as he went to his room and grabbed a pair of clean pants and a shirt from the drawer, then a pair of clean slippers before joining you in the living room. He’d found you in the same position, standing, arms crossed over your chest, staring into space.
“Here you go, take all the time you need. The bathroom is down the hall on the right; you’ll find clean towels and robes there.”
You grabbed your clothes, the trembling in your hands still there. He noticed the swelling of your hand, the cuts on your nuckles. You looked at him for a moment, and Jay felt as if he’d been hit in the gut, before whispering a faint, “Thank you.”
Jay ran his hands over his face in frustration, feeling more helpless than ever. What the hell had happened?
At that moment, his cell phone rang, and Voight's name lit up the screen.
Turns out, a patrol unit had reached your apartment after a neighbor called about what sounded like a gunshot. Upon arrival, an unknown man was found injured, confused, and still semi-conscious on your floor. The cops had called Voight after realizing the address belonged to one of the Intelligence members, but you weren’t there.
Jay reassured Voight you were with him, and you were fine, or at least seemingly so. Voight was investigating the man’s identity, and it didn’t take long to pinpoint his name: Markus Kane, a convicted felon who’d been released only a few days earlier after serving time for drug trafficking, prostitution, and murder.
It didn’t take Jay long to realize that the change in your behavior over the past few days was due precisely to Kane’s release.
“Keep an eye on her Halstead,” Voight said before ending the call.
“Of course, don’t even mention it.” The call ended, and Jay let out a sigh before placing his phone on the coffee table.
He went into the kitchen and started heating up some water so he could make you some hot tea. He didn’t know what he was doing, because since it was you and he didn’t really know how to act around you most of the time.
“I didn’t know you were the tea kind of guy, Halstead,” your voice startled him, so lost in thought he hadn’t heard you arrive. His heart probably didn’t skip a beat, not until he saw you in his clothes, even though they were a few sizes too big.
This isn’t the time Jay, stop it.
“Figured it out you wanted something hot.”
You nodded. “Thanks.” You sighed, running a hand through your now-dry hair. “Listen, Jay, I... I’m sorry to bother you...”
“Hey, no stop,” he interrupted you before letting you continue what you were saying, “If you think for even a second I’m going to let you go, you’re sorely mistaken. I’m not leaving you alone.”
You looked at him for a moment, your gaze unreadable, before lowering it to your feet.
“C’mon, let’s get comfortable on the couch.”
Jay sat down next to you, leaving a little space between you two, a space he only wanted to fill.
The silence was tense, almost suffocating; he didn’t know what to say. After all, he knew you, he knew it’d be useless to push you to tell him what had happened because that would only make you shut down even more.
But God, he was trembling, he just wanted to tear the son of a bitch who had done this to you to pieces.
You were still shaking, though not like when you’d arrived, and Jay hoped it was just the cold. He took the blanket he always had on the couch and draped it around your shoulders. “You’re shivering,” he almost whispered.
Your eyes were on his face, scared, curious, but you didn’t say a word. Jay’s heart was pounding, so fast that for a moment he feared you could hear it.
He passed the cup of tea between your hands. Your fingers barely touched, but this tiny contact made his throat tighten.
The room fell into an almost deafening silence again, broken only by the ticking of the clock on the wall and the sound of the rain still hitting the windows.
“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked. You brought the cup to your lips, taking a small sip.
“No.”
M
“Of course not,” he muttered, running his hands over his face in frustration. “Why would you ever…” He stopped.
“What?”
“Make things easy, you always have to complicate everything. You always have to put on this tough facade, pretend everything is fine, I don’t know why you do this… Seriously, you’re driving me crazy… Why can’t you just accept that someone wants to help you? Why do you think you have to deal with everything alone?”
“It’s not your job…”
“Of course it’s my job. For fucks sake we work together, you’re my partner, of course I want to help you, I care about you.”
You looked down at the cup, but Jay had noticed your shiny eyes, your trembling lip.
“Why did you come here?”
“I told you, I didn’t know where else to go.”
“Yes, you did, you could have gone to anyone else—Kim, Adam—but you came here, to me. We don’t get along most of the time. Why?”
“Jay… Enough…”
“Look at me,” he said, and you did. He tried to ignore the way seeing your tears again made him feel. He tried not to think about it, not to be distracted by the trembling of your lips, by the way you were trying to stay composed, to still feign strength when it was clear you had none left.
“Because I trust you,” you breathed out, in a whisper, “You… You’re the only person who won’t judge me, who won’t look at me like I’m a victim.”
The words hung in the air, as if they, too, were afraid of breaking. Jay stared at you, unable to say anything, incredulous that you could actually say it. His chest rose and fell rapidly, as if simply breathing had become difficult.
“Really? Please say it again, I have to record it.”
“Never, you bastard.” You both chuckled. “You’re not going to let me live this down, aren’t you?”
“Oh never, princess.”
“Don’t call me princess.”
“Alright, alright. I won’t call you princess anymore, princess.”
“God, you’re unbearable. Forget what I said.”
Jay smiled, happy to have managed to ease the tension a little, because he knew you, he knew how much you hate being vulnerable, how you used sarcasm to avoid talking about your feelings.
But he was especially happy because he finally got to see you smile. Man, he hated seeing those teary eyes of yours, and in that precise moment, he vowed to do everything in his power to never see you cry again.
There was a moment of silence.
“That’s also why I’m here,” you whispered, your eyes now fixed on the cup.
“What do you mean?”
“Because you manage to make things a little bit better.”
Jay was taken aback; he never in his life would’ve expected to hear those words from you.
But then again, that was your relationship. You bickered. It wasn’t true to say you hated each other, because you didn’t, but at the end, you were always there for each other. Not explicitly—neither of you had ever said “I’m here”—but with your jokes and arguments, with an offered beer, even just with your presence, with silence.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that now,” you continued.
“I think I’m hallucinating.”
You giggled, playfully hitting him on the arm.
You took another long sip of tea, which was now cooling. You tucked the blanket around your body, then pulled your legs up to your chest before placing the cup on the coffee table.
“Before I started in Intelligence, I worked in the Major Crimes Unit in Washington. We were investigating a large drug ring, prostitution, and a series of related murders,” you began, your gaze lost in space. Jay listened intently, his breath held almost as if he feared that if you heard him, you’d stop talking. “There was a man in charge, Marcus Kane, and there was no way to frame him. We knew he was behind all those crimes, but there was no concrete evidence. Whoever had anything to do with him, they were terrified enough not to testify...”
“So we decided to go undercover. I volunteered. Catching Marcus Kane was the perfect opportunity to make myself known. I’d just become a detective, and I wanted to prove my worth.”
Jay smiled to himself. It was just like you.
“I went undercover for about a year, pretending to be a big shot in the prostitution ring and looking for new girls to buy. He was a shrewd, paranoid guy, suspicious even of his own shadow, so it wasn’t easy. But eventually, slowly, I managed to gain his trust.”
“He fell in love...”
You nodded. “And I took advantage of this opportunity. I never did anything with him; I always managed to slip away without arousing his suspicions, playing with his feelings. Long story short, I managed to gather enough evidence to frame him, to get the victims he raped to talk… But something went wrong, and to this day I still don’t know how he got the word that there was an undercover cop,” you sighed, huddling tighter. “We fought, he managed to stab me, but before he could finish the job, backup arrived and arrested him, but not before yelling at me that he’d get revenge.”
His heart broke for you, he couldn’t even imagine how you felt in that moment, fighting for your life, fearing you were about to die.
“What happened?” Jay whispered.
“A few days ago, I got a call from my lawyer. Kane made a deal, revealed the names of some big shots he dealt with, and got of jail…” you replied.
There was another moment of silence.
“I checked every single door and window, and everything was locked… I don’t know how he got in,” you swallowed the lump in your throat. “We fought, he managed to disarm me, but believe it or not, he got the worst of it… I ran away, and here I am.”
“Oh yes, I absolutely believe you, Detective. I saw you angry,” Jay joked, trying to hide the turmoil he felt inside. He was there, he had left you at home and left. If he had insisted on staying, none of this would’ve happened.
“We caught him. Voight called me. One of your neighbors heard a gunshot and called 911. The patrol called him.”
You looked at him for a moment and let out a breath, though Jay noticed the news didn’t completely reassure you.
“He’ll find a way out this time too.”
“He attacked a cop. He won’t get away with it.”
You sighed. “I hope so, Jay.”
And there was that silence again, heavy, suffocating.
Jay’s body was tense, unable to relax. He’d never even seen that man’s face, but he hated him with every fiber of his being. Now your behavior became clear, the way you flinched, the way you constantly looked over your shoulder every time you were in the field, your recklessness during the trade.
He could only imagine the hell you went through these past days, the sleepless nights staring around, feeling vulnerable in the only place you were supposed to feel safe: your home.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, leaning back on the couch. Neither of you seemed to realize that in the meantime, Jay had inadvertently moved closer to you, but without actually touching you. He just wanted to implicitly tell you that he was there, that he was listening, that he would protect you.
“For what? It’s not your fault.”
“For not understanding. I mean, I knew something was wrong in the past few days, but all I did was insist on asking you if everything was okay, knowing you’d push me away. I’m your partner, I know you, I know who you are, and I didn’t do anything to help you.”
Jay studied you for a long moment, the way your shoulders trembled beneath the blanket, the way your eyes kept darting toward the floor as if you were afraid of what he might find if you met his gaze. Every instinct in him screamed to pull you closer, to erase every trace of fear from your face, but he couldn’t. Not when you’d made such a point of keeping walls between you two.
And yet, seeing you like this—raw, shaken, human—cracked something inside him.
“That son of a bitch will never touch you again, do you hear me? I don’t care what it takes, he’ll never hurt you again.”
You didn’t look up, and that killed him more than anything else. Because he could see the weight behind your silence, the exhaustion, the fear, the shame you didn’t deserve to feel. He knew it was something you hated, having to ask for help, depending on someone, feeling like a burden.
He hated seeing you like this, vulnerable, almost broken.
He just wanted to see you with that bright smile of yours, so beautiful it could light up the darkest room, he wanted to hear your terrible jokes, your way of teasing him.
“I know it’s hard for you, I know you’ve always been used to facing everything alone in your life, because every person you relied on has always disappointed you, and you’ve learned you can’t trust anyone. No one but yourself,” he spoke in a sweet, patient tone, “I know I’m the last person you’d want to tell you this. We’re not exactly best friends, but you’re not alone in this world. Whatever happens to you, happens to me… To the whole team.”
“I care about you, more than you can even imagine, and I know I’ve never told you this because that’s how our relationship is… But I’ll always be there for you whenever you want me to be. I know that stubborn little head of yours will stop you from doing that, but I’m here. I won’t leave you alone now, tomorrow, or ever, no matter how much you hate the idea.”
You finally looked up at him, and his heart broke as he saw those tears streaming down your face, that beautiful face now surrounded by that damned purple bruise.
“I hate you so much, Detective Halstead,” you sniffed, drying your tears. “Remember when you told me that if things got bad, a hug could make it all go away?”
He nodded.
“I really need one right now.”
He smiled and didn’t need to be told twice before pulling you into his chest for the second time that evening. He could count on one hand the number of times you’d hugged in the years you’d known each other, but each and every single one of them was forever imprinted in his memory.
Your arms were holding him with such force it left him speechless, as if he was your lifeline, the only thing that could save you in that moment.
“I thought I’d lose you today,” he whispered, so low he didn’t even know if you’d heard him. But from the way you held him, he knew you had. “Don’t ever do that to me again, please.”
“You really like me that much, Halstead?” you murmured, making him chuckle.
You have no idea, baby.
“That’s called being a partner, you should try it sometime.” He retorted, his arms wrapped around you as he stroked your hair.
“You won’t lose me. It would be hard to find a better partner than me.”
He laughed again, pulling you even closer. “I hate to admit it, but it’s true. That’s why I’m begging you to stay in one piece.”
“I’ll try,” you chuckled this time, and he breathed an internal sigh of relief as he felt you finally relax in his arms. “Thank you for everything.”
“Anytime. I’m always here.”
You lifted your head slightly so you could look at him, and he placed a hand on your cheek, wiping away your tears with his thumb. “I don’t want to see you like this ever again,” he whispered. “Insult me, hit me, do whatever you want, but I don’t want to see you cry, see you suffer like this again.”
He saw you trying to hold back your smile, and his heart skipped another beat. “There it is, that’s that pretty smile that I like, that’s how I want to see you all the time. And if there’s anyone who stops you from doing so, promise me you’ll tell me, okay? So I’ll break his legs with my bare hands.”
You laughed, and his heart began to race this time. “Don’t you think that’s a little overboard?”
“Not at all.” He shook his head slightly. “You have no idea what I’ll do to that son of a bitch when I lay my hands on him.”
“It feels good.”
“What?”
“Feeling protected, feeling like there’s someone there to protect you, making you feel safe. It feels good.”
Those words weren’t supposed to affect him the way they did, they weren’t supposed to break his heart like that, but they did, and he hated it. Himself for feeling that way, the rest of the world for making you believe you weren’t worthy of those things.
“I know, and you won’t have to worry about that anymore, whether you like it or not.”
“I think I might like it.”
You remained silent for a moment, his heart still pounding, your breathing slowly becoming more regular. You stayed there, hugging each other on that couch as if it was the most natural thing in the world, as if you were used to it, and somehow it felt natural, for some strange reason it was supposed to be this way.
His fingers continued to delicately caress your face, he wasn’t even sure if he was doing it more for himself than for you, and with every passing second he hoped time would stop for a little longer.
“So…” it was you who broke the comfortable silence, your tone lighter. “That pretty smile that I like, huh? My God, you’re really into me, Jay.”
Jay rolled his eyes, trying to suppress a laugh. “Don’t let it get over your head, obviously I just said that to make you feel better.” He retorted, grateful you couldn’t see the blush on his cheeks, because what he’d said was as far from the truth as could be.
“Mmh, mmh,” you hummed in amusement, relieved. You tilted d your head so you could look at him. “Sure, keep telling yourself that, maybe one day you’ll believe it.”
Jay felt something inside him twist, a sharp pull low in his chest that left him breathless. He didn’t even know how to describe it, what name to give that sensation.
You looked exhausted, yes, but there was also something else, trust, maybe, or the faintest flicker of safety. And God, it almost broke him.
He’d seen you angry, stubborn, reckless; he’d fought with you more times than he could count, but he’d never seen you like this.
So close. So open, so damn real.
And you were so beautiful it took his breath away.
His eyes kept roaming over every millimeter of her face, mentally taking thousands of photos so he could imprint them in his memory, because the truth was, he didn’t know if he’d ever have the chance to have you this close again.
His throat went dry, the words burning there with nowhere to go.
Jay swallowed hard.
Don’t do something stupid. Don’t do it.
But his gaze dropped to your lips for a second too long, and he knew he had to move, immediately, before he crossed a line he couldn’t take back.
“I…” he started, his voice rougher than he expected. He cleared his throat, stood up too fast. “I’m just gonna—uh—get you some ice. For… you know.” He gestured vaguely toward the side of your face, anything to justify the sudden space between you.
He didn’t wait for a reply.
He needed distance, oxygen, anything that wasn’t the scent of your skin, anything to non to see the look in your eyes that felt like it could undo him completely.
As he reached the kitchen, he braced his hands on the counter, eyes closed, chest tight.
Fuck.
Get it together, Halstead.
Because for a second back there, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to comfort you or just kiss you until the world stopped shaking, until neither of you would have any air left in your lungs.
Jay took longer than he needed. The ice was already in the towel but he couldn’t quite bring himself to go back yet.
For fucks sake he’d faced armed men, stared down killers, fought in wars, and somehow, walking back into that living room felt harder than any of it.
When he finally did, you were sitting in the same position, knees still drawn up, blanket still wrapped around you. Your eyes found him immediately, soft but searching, like you could tell exactly what was going on inside his head even if he was trying damn hard to hide it.
He cleared his throat, forcing a half-smile.
“Here you go,” he murmured, holding out the ice. “It’ll be good for the bruise.”
You took it, your fingers brushing his again, just a second, just enough to make his skin burn under your touch.
“Thank you,” you said quietly.
He nodded, trying to focus on the movement of your hand instead of the fact that his heart was still hammering in his chest.
“Keep it on for a while,” he muttered, sitting down again, this time a little further away than before.
Safe distance. Or at least that’s what he told himself.
For a while, you both pretended to watch the rain through the window. The air still felt thick, like the room itself remembered what had just almost happened. Every once in a while, he’d steal a glance, the curve of your jaw, of your nose, your lips, the faint rise and fall of your shoulders as you breathed, and every damn time, it felt like something in him shifted.
You broke the silence first.
“Are you okay?”
Jay blinked, thrown off. “Me?” He huffed out a laugh. “You’re the one who just went through hell, and you’re asking if I’m okay?”
You shrugged lightly. “I don’t know, it seems like something is bothering you.”
He couldn’t help it, a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth before his gaze flicked to yours, holding it for just a heartbeat too long before he looked away again.
“It’s…” he said finally, voice low. “I’m just glad you’re here. That’s all.”
And that was the truth. Raw, simple, terrifying in its honesty.
Because for all his control, all his training, nothing had prepared him for how much he could care about someone who drove him this crazy, for someone who could make him feel so protective, so alive, and so close to losing every bit of restraint he had left.
Part two ->
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