Well. Here goes nothing.
Antonio's P.O.V.
"I'm just saying, if you're gonna kill someone there are plenty of other ways to do it."
"Yes, but isn't pulling a trigger or pressing a button the easiest way?"
Erin and Jay walk up the steps to the bullpen, same coffee in hand, same dark circles under eye, different sides of the argument. Typical of these two.
I shake my head.
"Jesus Erin. I know you're a serial killer and all, but its monday morning, could we keep your plans of mass murder to a minimum?"
She throws me a look.
"Just because you don't have anything to do on a Saturday night doesn't mean you have to pick on the rest of us who do."
A small snort of laughter comes from Halstead. Somehow I get the feeling shes doing something much more dangerous with her Saturdays…
And judging from the look Voight gives the partners when he walks out of his office, so does he.
Huh. This could be interesting.
But Hank doesn't say anything, just starts the debriefing. We actually have an interesting one this week. Not that any of our cases are boring or anything its just- know what? Never mind.
So this guy, Clay Jameson, had recently made bail, and was wasting no time in restarting his business. Business being killing people for money. His signature? He strangles his victims using a thick cord, so there's no DNA left on the skin that would normally give away the killer. No jail time for him. And no way for his prey to escape.
What got him caught was when a couple months back, Intelligence was clearing an old apartment, and found the cord. Jay did, actually. After a bomb went off , that cord was his way out when the building collapsed on top of him. (long story) Anyway, cord went to evidence, which got him arrested, then the lack there of got him free.
Aaaaaaaaannnndd two days later, three bodies show up in various places, all strangled with the same marks of, you guessed it! A thick metal chord. So now we are all gearing up to go and split up to search this grimy hotel where he is supposed to be staying. Address courtesy of mouse, who hacked onto the many databases of Chicago's finest motels, (cough cough. yes, that was sarcasm.) and came up with Mr. Jameson's face on a ATM camera. Right across from the stumble inn 24 hour check in/out hotel. Where his car is currently parked.
"Well, if that isn't the ugliest shade of orange I have ever seen." I mutter under my breath. Me and Jay are parked outside the Doughnut shop across the street, waiting for confirmation that Clay was really in the building. We don't wait long.
"Okay, manager just confirmed it, Clay Jameson checked in about two hours ago; hasn't left yet." Erin's voice crackles over the radio.
"Room?" I ask.
"206. Second floor, left side."
"Copy" Jay and I reply simultaneously, before crossing the street and slipping into the back door of the main building. Footsteps pound pavement behind us. Olinski and Ruzek. We enter the hallway silently, and are no louder quickly moving down the hall, counting door number.
201..202..203...204….
Somewhere between 205 and 206 Erin and Voight join our little posse. Gathering around the door, Jay switches with Ruzek, moving to the back so he can use the gauge he conveniently brought with him. A little excessive for a deadbolt, but hey, overkill is underrated.
"CHICAGO PD!CLAY JAMESON!OPEN THE DOOR!"
A harsh thunk followed by a small grunt is the only reply. Odd, but now we don't need that warrant we don't have to search the premises. Except for one problem. The sound came from behind Olinksi. Not inside the apartment.
I look behind me in time to see Halstead on the ground, obviously dazed. A piece of rebar clatters to the floor in front of him. The source of the metal being the hand of Clay Jameson. With practiced ease and amazing speed, he whips his signature black cord out of no where, wraps it around Jays neck, and pulls the struggling cop upright, so Halstead's body is in front of Clay's. I call out a warning.
The unit as a whole whips around, guns high in the air, all searching for a clear shot. Nobody finds one.
"JAMESON!DROP IT!"
"Let him go, Clay!"
"You got no way out!"
We yell out in desperation. I look into Jay's eyes. They are scared and confused and very close to panic. He notices my stare, and seems to make an effort to relax slightly. I give him a nod.
Trust us
He attempts a small nod back but is thwarted by Clay tightening the rope some more.
"Jameson. Listen to me." Voight's gravel voice travels from my left.
"There is no way in hell we are letting you out of here. We both know that. So let him go."
"NO! No, I ain't making the same mistake twice! You ain't taking me!" The agitated man actually loosens the cord a fraction of an inch, losing concentration on his last victim. With each small breath, I see the light that was fading in Jays eyes, slowly return.
"Alright, then. What about him? Can we take him? Just let him go, Jameson. He didn't do anything to you." You can tell Voight regrets his words the second they leave his mouth, because, truth be told, Halstead DID do something to Clay. He found the murder weapon. He's the reason Clay Jameson was ever incarcerated. Apparently the criminal never forgot.
"Yes, he did. He put me through two years of HELL! I'm just getting even! He. Has. TO PAY!" As he speaks those last words, he crouches further behind Jay, and tightens the cord, putting all his weight on the ends, completely cutting off Halstead's ability to breath. Jays hands fly to his throat, pulling in vain at the foreign object that's killing him. I still don't have to a clear shot, nor does anyone else.
Our teammate is dying and we can't do anything about it.
Jays P.O.V.
Its days like today that make me wish I never left the army. And its situations like these that remind me it doesn't matter. Different place, same shit.
He's smart this guy. Wonder if he was ever in the army. Anybody who can hold a body in front of theirs, with nothing but a cord, and still block any real shot has to had some form of practice. And when he finally seals his fate by crushing my windpipe, I finally understand where he is coming from. Its a simple technique, really. One taught only to some, not because its special, but because not many people care. Hand-to-hand isn't really the most prominent form of fighting in Afghanistan, you know?
The assailant will grab each end of a rope with the opposite hands, then pull back slightly, so the rope crosses itself in an x. Throw the circle around your desired victims neck, and pull on the ends. It's an easier way to control the soon to be dead person, and there is much less effort involved. Just relax and let the dead weight of your body do all the work.
I know because that's how I killed a LOT of people.
And its very effective.
Maybe that's why he started killing people. Maybe one of his buddies or some one was killed. Maybe the same way he kills now. Maybe he's just insane and my oxygen deprived brain is still trying to compute whats going on. Either way, I'd like to breathe again.
Lungs begging for air, my vision is rimmed with a darkness that slowly grows, until the only things I see is the the faces of my team. Even this small mercy disappears as I slowly sink to the ground. While my vision sports different colored fireworks, my eardrums have no problem processing the many desperate yells and threats of my team. Unfortunately, words cannot hurt and they cannot help you. Physically, anyway.
My knees hit the ground. The carpet seems to be full little electrodes that fire into me the moment I make contact. They are like telephone lines, sending messages to my brain.
"What are you doing?!" They scream at me. "Your dying! DO SOMETHING!"
My hands slowly fall from my neck, where they tried in vain to save me.
"I can't. " I reply to them. To the many people sending those messages.
"What can I do?" I ask them as my muscles slowly relax. As if in response, my left hand falls onto something-something hard. And cold. Like metal.
The rebar. That god damn piece of rebar that he hit me with. My fingers slowly wrap around it. Well. There's always that option.
Fuck it.
Twirling the rusted metal between my fingers, my body releases one last burst of adrenaline, giving me the strength I need. Positioning the bar in front on me, I pull it back, forcing it through the left side of my abdomen at an upward angle, (hopefully) missing my lung, but hitting his.
See? This is the shit only TV can teach you. And for once cartoon physics works in the real world, because the rope slackens. My hands claw the carpet, pulling my body the last few inches off the pole, where I collapse to the ground. My heart beat pounds dully in my chest. But the air. Where is the air, that beautiful element called oxygen I have been so desperately craving? My lungs no longer call for it, no longer try to achieve it.
"It's over." the little electrodes tell me. My conscious dims more in response.
"The cord." The whisper comes from the depths of my mind. "The cord must still be there." I want to move, to return my hands to my neck, where they might actually help. Nothing. My body does not respond. How could it? I don't even feel connected to it any more, like it stayed still while I ran away.
"It's over"
My thoughts drift into a dark, calm sea of peace. I let what's left of my self sink to the ocean floor. The soupy blackness welcomes me as I welcome it. I float in the space between life and death, vaguely considering what happens next. Will I rise to the surface of this vast body of water or will I sink deeper to the grey sands covering the ocean floor?
I do not know if time moves the same here, in this place of mystery and secret. But if it does then I have been here for no more than two minutes when I start to rise. It is slow at first. So slow I can barely tell I'm moving at all. Then I can see the surface coming closer and closer until Im roaring upward. With this movement comes the sudden primal instinct to, you know, breath.
Suddenly I'm moving, encouraging the force bringing me home. I am desperate to reach the open sky above, to reach the sweet air that I can find there. The underside of the sky rushes toward me and just as my head brakes the surface-
WHAM!
My body jerks, twisting to find a better position for the intake of air. Simultaneously my eyes snap open, (don't know when they closed but hey it's been a crazy day) revealing a dirty, white, water stained ceiling. A face moves into my line of vision, but I am unable to distinguish whose as my eyelids slide shut again.
"Jay?! Jay, can you here me?" Erin. She sounds pissed. Well, I just basically died on her. I guess she has a reason.
I manage to grunt in response. Ooh, and I manage to open my eyes, so I get my sight back. Ten points for Halstead.
I'm graced with a I-can't-believe-you-just-had-the-audacity-to-die-on-me-but-I'm-glad-your-alive Erin Lindsay smile. While my vision is blurry at best, I can still see the silent tears running down her face. She cups my face with her hands, and leans forward, gently placing a kiss on my forehead.
"Don't ever do that again." She whispers in my ear before sitting back and switching places with Antonio, who was previously occupied with pressing on my abdomen. Probably trying to staunch the hole there. Ehe. Whoops.
"Hey, Halstead I need you to do me a favor. You gotta stay awake, okay?"
It takes some effort, I didn't even think I could, but I manage to grind out a response.
" 'm so tired, man" My voice is sounds like I've been gargling nothing but gravel for three days. It's weak, so weak that Dawson has to lean in to hear. He smirks a little.
"Your always tired. Deal with it."
"Wow. Thanks Tony. Really appreciate the concern" I end the sentence with a small huff that aggravates some part of my throat, and I start coughing. Hard.
"Easy. Easy Jay." Antonio murmurs. When the coughs subside, I'm left wheezing and dead tired. Literally. My entire neck is throbbing and it hurts to think.
Yup. That's a thing. Get used to it. Because at the way my headache is starting to develop, I'm going to have to get VERY used to it.
"And, uh, don't talk either." He says as an after thought.
If I had enough energy to glare at him, I would have, but as it was, I could barely keep my eyes open. So I was content to just lay there, wondering how the fuck all this happened. It's quiet around me. No one seems to want to talk and if they do, it's in very hushed voices, making me wonder what exactly they don't want me to hear.
His foot steps seem to break this little spell we had going. Voight had always demanded the best of us, and I felt myself trying to be more attentive in his presence. He notices me trying to squirm into a sitting position and glances down to my mid section before raising his gaze back my face. He holds out a hand in a simple gesture.Stop.
As Voight turns to talk to Erin, I start to feel the effects of trying to move.
Not my best idea...
Voight's P.O.V. (God help us)
A small sigh escapes Halstead's mouth as he slips back into unconsciousness. Unbelievable. the kid was dead for almost five minutes and he actually thinks I'm gonna make him get up and move just because I'm the room. Typical soldier needs to stand attention for his superiors. You'd think after at least two years in Chicago, he would realize he's not in the army anymore. Shaking my head, I turn to Erin.
"How's he doin?"
She doesn't take her eyes off her hands, currently the only thing stopping Halstead from bleeding out. When she replies, her voice is thick with worry, but I can identify the underlying anger there to. Great. So she's pissed at me.
"He's losing a lot of blood. If that ambulance doesn't get here soon, I don't know how much time he-" Erin is cut off by sirens outside. A hell from Ruzek confirms the arrival of an ambulance. The medics are from 51 and don't waste anytime helping the detective who's done so much for them. Erin's hands are replaced by padding, which turns red almost instantly. Wary of his neck, they move him to a stretcher, bring him down the stairs, into the ambo and he's gone.
Jameson was dead before hit the ground. Even without the pipe Jay shoved through his lung, he was dead. The minute we had a clear shot we fired. I think Antonio counted. Six shots to the head. Intelligence fired at the same time. Bittersweet satisfaction courses through me as I think of the fact that, he probably doesn't even have anything left to call a head. And because of that I can't make him pay for what he did to those people. To MY detective. Instead I have to sit and stand and pace around the waiting room. Like eeeeeeeverybody else.
I think it's a new form of torture.
We had drive in silence behind the ambulance to the hospital. Watched as they took him to surgery. Heard as the doctor told us not to get our hopes up. Now we must wait.
Erin returns from the bathroom, where she was scrubbing the blood off her hands. His blood. I've been trying to push away the guilt that's been plaguing my mind but the effort is futile. He's part of my team. I may not agree with him all the time, but he is still my detective. And that makes him my responsibility.
Lindsay glares daggers at me as she walks by. Sighing I motion to her before she can sit. Walking toward a hallway she unwillingly follows.
When we reach a deserted corner at the end, she takes the initiative.
"What. Do. You. Want." The words are spoken through gritted teeth.
"Is there a particular reason you hate me, or are you just like this to everyone when your secret boyfriend is-"
I don't get to finish.
Her hand hits my face so hard I see stars for a second.
"HOW DARE YOU!" Her loud yell draws attention from some off the nurses. Although they look more interested in the fight then concerned.
"Erin-" I try again.
"NO! No, you don't get to lay that on me! Not now, not ever!" Her voice is dripping with venom and rage.
" I don't care that you're my boss, I don't care that you're my dad!" Tears start to pool on her eyes as she continues.
"You ever say something like that again, and I will leave you so fast it'll make you think I was never here!" Ooh. Ouch. That one hurt.
"This is why I have that rule Erin. Because you get to emotional and it will affect your work."
The look on her face hits me like a hard kick to the stomach. It's one full of pain, anger and betrayal. The last time I saw that much emotion on her face was when Camille died. Only this time I have caused that pain. I want to apologize, to tell her I put that rule in place to protect her, because I care. Because she's my daughter.
Her next words are with trembling lips and tear filled eyes. Lindsay's voice is calmer with a determination that fills me with dread.
"You right. It will affect my work. I'll be happier. I'll be smarter and more focused. I will have something, someone to look forward to at the end of the day. I love him, Voight. I do. And no rule you put in place is gonna change that. If you don't like it-fire me."
And with that she turned and starts to walk away. I lunge forward and catch her arm. She whips around, chest heaving as the tears finally spill from her eyes.
"But that's not why you were mad at me."
She pauses as though trying to remember.
"I was angry because you let him come with us. You knew it was on record that he found that rope. It's stupid, I know, but I thought you should've made him stay at the precinct."
"You really think he would've let that happen?! It would've looked like I thought he couldn't do his job." She sighs, her shoulders slumping in defeat.
" I know. I just thought that maybe if you had pulled him from the case none of this would've happened." Erin looks up at me, eyes wide with undisguised fear.
" I can't lose him, Hank. I can't. I won't."
I gently pull her into a hug as she starts to sob.
"It's okay linds, it's okay." I murmur. "He's gonna be okay."
As an after thought I add "And I'm not going to fire either of you." She pulls away with an annoyed look that plainly spells 'Really?'. I smile.
"Let's face it you think Jay is brave enough to leave you? He knows you'd kick his ass." This earns a tear filled laugh and a nod. She starts to dry her face with her sleeve, sniffing
"I'm still mad at you." Lindsay attempts a glare but there's little power behind it. "And I stand by what I said. I'm going to keep seeing him." I smirk. Persistent. As always. Glancing behind her I see a doctor emerge from the O.R. Gently I move turn her around, nodding to the surgeon.
Slowly we walk down the hall back to the waiting room. The team must've already received news because everybody's gathering their things, looking to either move or go home. As Erin moves to get her coat, I pull Antonio aside.
"Well?" The word comes out harsher than I intended but at this point I could care less. And Dawson, being the bastard he is, laughs.
"The idiot is gonna be fine. Lost a lost of blood and the whole oxygen deprivation thing is a concern, but no major organs were damaged in the process of Jay impaling himself. No the tough part will be keeping him in the hospital for the next week."
"The next week!?" Erin returns to my side with a look of amusement.
"Why? I mean it's gonna be fun teasing him about it but why do they need him here for a week?"
I share a look with Antonio. Oh yeah, she definitely doesn't like him. Nope. Not at all.
"What room?" I ask before Lindsay can continue.
"204"
"Thanks. C'mon kid." Directing the last words at Erin, she scuttles down the hallway to catch up with me. She's got this dopey look on like she's trying really hard not to smile. Her gaze meets mine for second, and in that second she's knows she's won. A sigh escapes my mouth as we walk down the bland halls.
"Well, if you two are going all Romeo and Juliet, you just might have to choose different partners..."
Her laughter echos.
Erin's P.O.V.
2 weeks later
"OH TO FEEL THE SUN ON MY SKIN!" Jays yells in fake elation.
"Oh shut up." I punch him softly in the shoulder. I'm still wary of what his body could handle. Last time I touched him he collapsed to the floor.
Yeah. Way to go Erin.
Watching him walk to the car, I remember that day. I had managed to keep him relatively compliant with the hospital staff for about five days before he had finally managed to get his doctor to give him the ok to leave.
"You sure you're ready to leave?" I ask nervously. He shoots me an annoyed look. The same look he'd been giving me for the past two days, eversince I told him he couldn't leave just because he could move.
"Yes, mother dear. Im ready."
That had earned him a light slap across the back of the head. After which his eyes rolled up into the back of his head and he promptly collapsed before I could do anything. Antonio found me crouched next to his body moments later. Sobbing. Apologizing. Begging him to wake up.
He did.
Two days later.
It was explained to me that I, in fact, did not kill him with a slap. Just that he had literally taken things to fast. His body was still recovering from the prolonged loss of air, and walking around an hour after waking up was not the best idea. Basically I happen to have the luck of hitting him at the exact moment he went to stand up, collectively making him pass out from exhaustion.
Yeah, I don't get it either.
Anyway, his little stunt got him another nine days in Chicago Med. With me hovering and staying away from him at the same time.
Jay has stopped hanging on the door handle waiting for me to unlock it. Something in my expression must say help because he walks back over to me. Ever so gently he takes my face in his hands.
"Erin. It's okay. It wasn't your fault. None of this was your fault, okay? You hafta believe me on this."
My eyes burn with unshed tears as I look at my partner. In more ways then one. His skin is still to pale and he looks like he hasn't slept in two weeks. But his eyes are clear and when I look into them I can only see love.
"I know." I mutter indignantly.
"If you know..." His forehead touches mine as he whispers his response.
"...then act like it." Breathing out heavily, I bring my lips up to his, and suddenly we're kissing in the middle of a hospital parking lot.
...
What? He's my boyfriend.
A honk sounds from behind us and Ruzek pulls up with Olinski in passenger seat of the escalade.
"EWW JAY! Girls have cooties!" He yells.
Jay pulls out his phone and pretends to fiddle with it. Looking at me he asks innocently
"Do you have Kim's number? I wanna tell her what her boyfriend thinks about her."
We laugh as Ruzek visibly pales.
"We're just kidding bud. Why you here?" Jay has his normal smirk on. And seeing as now he has dirt on Adam it makes me wanna copy him.
"We were supposed to tell you we are all going to Molly's and see if you needed a ride but I'm thinking its a not." Al's quiet voice drifts from the car.
"Naw, I got it. Thanks Al. We'll be there." And with that I turn steer him back toward my Chrysler.
We climb in and sit in silence for a second.
"Cooties Huh?" I look at Jay with a barely suppressed grin. The face he gives me is priceless. Bursting out laughing I turn the key and drive out of the parking lot into the night beyond.
Woo-Hoo! That was fun.
Alright so this is the first installment of my little endeavor. It might take me some time to update (this thing took about three weeks to write) but I will try my best to completely ignore school and life for you guys.
Oh yes, the more reviews I am graced with, the faster I post! They're like giving cookies to a little kid to get him to work.
:D