So here's what I've been working on for the last three weeks. It was supposed to only be a oneshot but once I started writing, there was no holding back I guess :-) it's currently a two-shot but I might add a third chapter in case you want me to.
This is for everyone who's still reading Linstead because in the world of FanFiction nothing is impossible and we can keep them alive :-) so enjoy! (fyi: flashbacks are in italic)
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Part One
Her sleeping body jerks awake, her hazel-green eyes fly open and her heartrate picks up its pace the moment the plane that's currently holding her hostage is hit by some light turbulances and every muscle in her body immediately tenses up. To her very own surprise, she fell asleep shortly after taking off almost two hours ago, the two drinks she had before boarding the plane doing a proper and appreciated job with lulling her to slumber and turning her surroundings off. Because she can't really say she likes flying. Or to describe it more clearly: it's not her thing at all being trapped on a plane high up in the air and so far away from the ground, and the only reason she's even boarding planes occasionally is because they bring her from one place to another and save her from roadtrips that would take days. Though she does like roadtrips. At least she used to. Back in the days, when they drove to Wisconsin for long weekends, singing along with cheesy country songs that played from the radio, when her world was the most colorful it has ever been.
When checking in at La Guardia earlier, she wasn't sure whether it's a good idea to accept the window seat the airline employee offered because she's not the kind of person who looks out of the window all excited to watch the world from a bird's eye view. But there is one reason why she agreed to take seat 27A and when she reaches for the window shade to pull it up and gazes out of the tiny window, she knows why her heart yelled yes earlier while her brain screamed no by this innocent question about the seat she prefered, her heart winning this inner battle: she's greeted with the most incredible skyline there is. Her skyline. The one that owns her heart, the one that's rising into the sky right behind the deep blue water of Lake Michigan with its trademark buildings: the Hancock Tower and the Sears Tower. For the second time within the last couple of minutes her heart skips a beat or two but this time it's because seeing this skyline is filling the beating organ in her chest with a joy she hasn't expected. Not in this situation anyway. When the reason for her visit is such a tragic one.
They approach the O'Hare airport quickly and the skyline comes closer as they're flying in over Lake Michigan, the plane shaking in the wind some more which leaves her inwardly telling her stomach to settle the hell down because they will soon hit the ground, so there's no reason for rioting and possibly making her run to the lavatory during the landing process.
The sky is dark, like there's a huge rainfall coming any minute, but there are a few rays of sunshine that are battling through, making the scenery even more beautiful no matter that she's seen the Chicago sky like this a million times. Though not recently, not in over a year and that makes it somehow special. Because a dark sky full of clouds in New York is just that: a dark sky full of clouds. It's nothing special, only a precursor for rain.
They're losing altitude by the minute, she can feel and hear the landing gear extending and most of all, she can feel the pressure in her ears increasing, and as this big plane rattles in the wind again, the tiniest smile forms on her lips despite her stomach still not feeling too well. This is Chicago. The Windy City. She doesn't have her name for nothing.
It's only when the plane finally hits the ground, slams into the brakes and then rolls to its parking position that she realizes she's home for the first time in over a year. For the first time since she left this city, everything and everyone behind without such a thing as a goodbye. For the first time since her life fell apart, since she left and lost the only man she ever truly loved and imagined spending the rest of her live with. And only when she pushes these thoughts away, she realizes a second thing: despite not living here anymore, her brain just automatically refered to this city as her home. While it has not ever associated New York as such although the Big Apple has been the center of her life for more than a year now.
That probably says it all.
She recognizes the tears in her eyes before they can fall and blinks them away by gazing out of the window. The rain she saw coming from the plane is drumming on the ground with huge drops now, the few rays of sunshine still leaking through creating the most beautiful rainbow stretching over the whole sky. Instead of her tears drying, her current view makes them pool in her eyes even more because while she's been able to keep her feelings and emotions down during the flight thanks to the drinks from some bar at LaGuardia lulling her to slumber, seeing the rainbow now, the reason for coming back home hits her with full force: someone she's always looked up to, someone she's called family, someone who's seen her at her best and at her worst and who's been there no matter what, someone who's played a tremendous part in becoming the person she is today, some who she's loved with all her heart, crossed the rainbow bridge to the other side a couple of days ago: Alvin Olinsky. A friend. A team member. A father-figure. A man she could always count on.
″Hey Erin, great job in there,″ her colleague Tim praises her with a pat on the back as they watch a couple of police officers escorting the drug dealers they just busted during an undercover operation to the patrol cars.
″Thanks,″ she answers with a forced smile as she removes the scrunchy from her hair because the tight ponytail is causing her a headache, her hair effortlessly falling over her shoulders in soft, dirty blonde waves as soon as the scrunchy isn't holding it together anymore. ″But that gig has been fairly easy.″
″Yeah, but you still gotta pull the easy stuff off,″ he winks. ″So just take that compliment, will you?″ her partner laughs, nudging her with his elbow. Tim Pearson is a goofball. Most days a pain in the neck. But he's nice. Sometimes even funny though only when he doesn't try too much. But when he truly is funny, he can even make her laugh, which she thinks is a good thing because she doesn't usually feel like laughing. And most importantly, he's good police, a solid partner and together they make quite the team. In the beginning, he tried to flirt with her, tried to get to know her better but she made things clear pretty fast and told him that she wasn't interested and would never mix the business and the personal. Not again at least, though that was something he didn't need to know. But he's anyway accepted the boundaries she set without questioning them any further.
″Okay, whatever,″ she chuckles in response and rolls her eyes.
″You wanna come to the Tequila Bar with us later? Celebrate our successful bust that makes our city a better place?″ he asks as they make their way to their undercover car, which turns out to be a fancy roadster, to leave their current location and head back to the office in downtown to wrap up the night.
″Later?″ she echoes, raising her eyebrows at him. ″It's almost midnight,″ she notices dryly.
″So?″ Tim smirks, raising his eyebrows as well in an attempt to tease her.
″I'm beat, I'm tired, I'm smelling of smoke and dirt and I just want to sleep. So thanks for the invitation but no.″
″Oh come on, Erin,″ he exclaims dramatically. ″You barely ever join us. What's the matter with you?″
″There's no matter. I'm just not the afterwork-hangout-type,″ she shruggs as she opens the car door to plop down on the driver's seat, wondering whether anyone would ever pick up on that lie she's been telling them for a year now. Though technically it isn't a lie. Because she's changed a lot since moving here. And while hanging out at Molly's after a tough case or sometimes for no reason at all was her life back in Chicago, she couldn't say meeting her colleagues after work is still something she prefers to do although they're all nice and probably even fun to hang out with. But they're not her people. They're not Adam who's the dork of the group, and Kim who usually talks her ear off, and Kevin who gives the best teddybear hugs, and Antonio who always buys them tequilas and Jay who has the dreamiest blue-green eyes, eyes that she used to get lost in. And so she stays away. Because spending time at some bar with her new colleagues here would only remind her of what she misses most, would the hole in her heart and the longing for her people only let grow bigger. And so the only person she occasionally, as in when her schedule allows it, spends time with, is Olivia Benson. And her adorable son Noah.
″Yeah, keep on telling yourself that,″ Tim chuckles as her takes his spot in the passenger's seat.
″Will do,″ she answers dryly, hoping that they're done with this topic for tonight, and before she starts the engine of the car, she reaches for the cold coffee-to-go that's still resting in the coffee holder as well as for her private cell phone that's always staying in the car when she's going under. Not that it would be a huge jeopardy anyway. There's barely anyone who ever contacts her on her private number or rather: other than Hank, there's actually no one who's calling her.
And so she's surprised to see she has thirteen missed calls when she unlocks her phone with the fingerprint of her thumb. Thirteen missed calls from the very same number to be precise. Thirteen missed calls from a number she doesn't have saved in her phone but still knows all too well. Because it's only three digits different from her direct dialing, the one that belonged to her phone on her desk in the bullpen in Chicago. It's the number of the 21st district, the one from the phone on the front desk. It's Platt's number. And the fact that the woman who she's always been something special to has tried to call her thirteen times within the last two-and-a-half hours makes her inhale a sharp breath and lets any color fall from her face until it's as white as the car she's currently sitting in because she's certain that there's only one reason why Trudy Platt would try to call her frantically: something happened. Something bad. Something that's shaken the team to the core. Someone died. Someone from her family, this best team she ever had and would ever have being left in a stage of heartbreak and grief with one member less. That's what she knows even without such a thing as a confirmation. What she doesn't know, however, is who's the one who will very soon have his name written on the CPD memorial, who's the one who probably didn't make it out of a bust or died in the blaze of gunfire during a shooting. And the thought of hearing Trudy say a name, any name, and make her greatest nightmare real with it, terrifies her as much that she can't move.
″What's wrong?″ her partner frowns as he watches her staring at her phone with wide eyes, her lips slightly shaking and her fingers frantically holding onto the coffee and the cell.
″Uhm...nothing...″ she stammers, her voice raspy and barely even there, and she slowly sets the coffee back down. ″I just...I just gotta make a call,″ she offers as an explanation and jumps out of the car before Tim Pearson can even blink.
She walks through the dark and cold spring night for almost five minutes to find a spot far away from all the cars, headlights, blue lights and people that are still making this place busy at 11:43pm, but eventually realizes that no spot will meet her requirements because all she's doing is avoiding calling this well-known number back as she fears the news she's about to receive. And so her finger hesitates over the recall button for a lifetime and with a shaky finger she only pushes it because she's afraid Tim will soon come with a whole battalion of cops to look for her.
It's Trudy Platt who answers the phone after the third ringing and the minute she hears her voice she just wants to hang up again because she's pretty damn sure she's not in a million years ready to hear the reason why she's had more calls within the last three hours than she had within the past year.
″Hi Trudy, it's Erin,″ she finally finds the courage to speak after a moment of silence, after gulping down the emotions that threaten to invade her with no mercy.
Her words are followed by another moment of silence and she's sure she can hear the woman on the other end of the line sobbing silently. It's a noise that makes her stomach turn and twinge because it's indeed already the confirmation of what she's known deep down inside for the past six-and-a-half minutes. It's not just someone being badly and seriously injured. There's someone who won't come back. Ever. Someone they're all close to.
″Hi Erin,″ Trudy breathes out and she's sure she's never heard her voice like this before, chills running down her spine when she thinks of the tragedy her family is currently faced with.
There's more silence and she can hear the background noises as Trudy obviously struggles to keep on talking and so she's the one to ask the crucial question despite not wanting to hear the answer. ″What happened?″
She can hear Trudy sob some more before she inhales a deep breath and quietly stammers: ″There's been...″ she starts but has to inhale once again before she's able to continue and deliver the news that shatter her world. ″It's...it's Alvin...he was stabbed and he didn't...they couldn't...he...he...″
Trudy Platt's voice breaks and she sobs uncontrolledly but Erin doesn't witness anything of that as her phone hits the ground and she stumbles backwards. And if it wasn't for the lamp post she's reaching for, she would've hit the ground just like her phone.
She's not crying. Instead she's doubling over as the universe is colliding above her, as she has the feeling someone is stabbing a knife right into her heart, the air trapping in her lungs which makes her feel like she's choking, and for a moment she wonders whether there's the possibility that this is just some nightmare. For several reasons.
But it's not.
It's reality.
Although it feels like a nightmare.
She doesn't know how much time has passed when she's reaching for her phone again with shaky hands, it could've been minutes or hours or probably even days, but Trudy Platt is still there and proves once more why she's one of her role models as well when she shows all her strength and tells her the details of what happened. It's shaking her world to the core once more, it feels like her surroundings are closing in on her to swallow her whole, and she just wants to yell and scream and punch her fist into something. For several reasons as well.
And that's what she does later, after trying to call Hank without success, when she's back in her tiny Brooklyn apartment all by herself, far away from the questioning looks of her partner who's not the person she feels like opening up to: she's screaming and yelling and punching her fist into the innocent wall of her bathroom until her knuckles start to bleed and first bruises are visible.
No one dares to question the bandage around her left hand on the following day.
They only throw her compassionate glances.
Bad news travels fast as it seems.
She's of course called into her boss's office who tells her to take a couple of days off until she feels like working again but she brushes Jen's concerns off and tells her she needs the work to take her mind off, to distract herself from her own thoughts and emotions, and she will only take two days off for the service and memorial. Because that's the least she can do, that's what she owes him. Saying her last goodbye to her loyal friend in person no matter how much the thought of returning to Chicago makes her stomach turn.
And so she keeps a brave face during the day and ignores the concerned glance from her partner and anyone else she works with, brushes Tim's attempts to talk about it off and tells him to focus on the work they've got to do, and only cries when she's back at her apartment in the evenings.
That's when she scrolls through old pictures on her phone until the guilt eats her up, and then slides back down on the wall until her bottom hits the ground, when she's wrapping her arms around her knees and lets the tears run down her face. Until there are none left anymore.
Receiving the news of O getting stabbed to death four days ago hit her with the force of a wrecking ball that set her entire life out of ballance. Because Al getting booked for murder and brought to jail in first place was her fault and only hers, so his death was on her, she is responsible for him getting killed. Because two years back, she'd been the one who wanted to cover Hank's back and save his life by moving Kevin Bingham's body to some place commander Crowley wouldn't find it. Because Hank had saved hers, so the least she could do was repaying the favor and finally make it even. And Alvin Olinsky, this selfless, gracious man had volunteered to help her because he'd known that she couldn't possibly do it alone, because he would cover for Hank, his partner in crime and best friend through thick and thin, anyday. And now, two years later, he took the fall for him. And for her. Keeping her out of this whole mess entirely and not giving Hank up although it would've saved him all the trouble. He stayed true to himself until the very end. Until someone stabbed him and he bleeded to death.
The past certainly always finds a way to come back and haunt her in the most crucial way.
″Excuse me, ma'am,″ a voice startles her as much that she almost jumps up from her seat, her heartrate once again far away from being normal or healthy. She turns her head around to see one of the flight attendants standing right next to row 27, only then recognizing that the whole plane is empty and she's the last passenger who's still here.
″Uhm...sorry,″ she mumbles as she wipes the tears in her puffy red eyes away with her hand and gets up from her seat to reach for her hand luggage in the overhead compartment.
″Are you alright?″ the woman asks carefully, the same concern written across her face that was also written across her colleagues faces during the last couple of days.
She grabs her suitcase and mumbles: ″Yes.″
It's the very same answer, the very same lie she's been telling everyone in New York so often in various situations in recent months when they asked her about her well-being.
XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX
Her key still fits into the lock of the front door of Hank's house and so she uses it to let herself in when her ringing leaves her standing in front of a closed door. She got the details about Al's memorial from Trudy because the man she considered something like a father has not been returning her calls or answered her messages ever since Al's death as he was not only dealing with everything on his own but also battling his own demons. And so she left him another message, telling him that she would stop by his place as soon she dropped off her one piece of luggage at the downtown hotel she is staying in, hoping that he wouldn't shoot her then in case he's home because he confused her with a burglar or anyone who'd want to come after him. Though she somehow doubted he's home at that time of the day.
″Hank?″ she calls but there's no answer, just as expected, probably even as known. But coming all the way to his place anyway is rather her way of avoiding or postponing going to the district. Because she doesn't feel like she's ready to go there yet, ready to be faced with Al's empty desk, ready to look Hank in the eyes knowing that Al's death is their fault, ready to meet the family she never said goodbye to, ready to meet him.
She doesn't know how he's going to react seeing her after how things between them ended. And she also doesn't know how her heart's going to react meeting him for that matter. The only thing she knows is that she isn't ready because only thinking about him still hurts in a way she's never experienced before.
″Hank?″ she calls once more as she walks into the living room, slightly gasping for air when she finds some pillows on the couch covered in blood. But then she remembers how Trudy told her on the phone that he came into work with a bruised face the other day, so the red, dried liquid on the fabric actually just matches up with her story.
″Hank?″ she calls for a final time but when there's nothing but silence again, she decides to leave her former home to call an uber and drive to the 21st district. Because sooner or later she has to.
Her heart's beating in her throat when she gets out of the uber in front of the precinct and glaces up the stairs to the huge wooden double door and the floor with the windows above which is the bullpen, her former desk just right behind those walls. She's fighting the urge to just jump back into the uber and only attend the memorial without visiting her former team before and only takes the stairs when she remembers how not saying goodbye properly the last time she was in Chicago is now one of her greatest regrets. Because life's short and unpredictable and now she will never be able to hug Alvin Olinsky, tell him thank you and say goodbye.
That thought makes her put one foot in front of the other until she reaches the door and opens it. She takes the next couple of steps and reaches for another door and suddenly she's standing right in the middle of the precinct, Platt's desk right in front of her, the stairs that lead up to the bullpen to her right. And before she sees Platt or anyone else, she sees him, how he's coming down the stairs in this very moment, wearing a black shirt with a v-neck, black jeans, badge pinned onto his belt and carrying his black jacket in his hand. Of course out of all people it has to be him.
Their eyes only meet when he's almost running into her as he's so focused on taking two steps at a time – and they're only almost crashing because she's quite frankly standing there like some stone that's glued to the ground and not able to move – and his gaze is one that she fails to interpret. It's a mixture of surprise and shock and sadness and anger, his blue-green eyes widening in disbelief as he recognizes her, almost as if he's seen a ghost.
What follows is one of the most akward moments this precinct has witnessed so far, one that reopens old sores that haven't even come close to healing so far.
″Hey,″ she's the first to speak, her voice nothing but a raspy, nervous whisper.
″Hey,″ he stammers after the initial shock and takes a step back. ″Didn't expect you to come,″ he adds with a tone he's never talked to her with before. He tries to hide his heartbreak and emotions away with the sound of his harsh, snappish voice but fails. At least for her it's obvious. For anyone else it probably wouldn't. But she knows him better than anyone else does.
″Why wouldn't I come for the memorial of a family member?″ she asks back in the exact same tone – because yes, she's trying to hide her heartbreak and emotions away as well and acting like meeting him doesn't bother her when it inwardly tears her apart - not taking her eyes away from as these words leave her lips.
″Uhm I don't know,″ he shruggs. ″Why would you just leave your family without such a thing as a goodbye?″ And suddenly, as his voice rises and the challenge and bitterness in it is evident, their conversation is personal and there's a whole lot of tension between them, a whole lot of unspoken frustration. ″Why would you just go and never look back?″
″Hey, you two!″ Platt's voice hooms out through the hall before things can escalate between them and she quickly joins them because not the entire district has to hear what she has to say. ″Cut the crap already,″ she hissed angrily. ″Do it whenever you want, wherever you want. But not today and not here. You understand?″
″Yes,″ they answer simulateously before Jay turns around and disappears through the door without saying another word, her eyes following him until he's gone, her heart beating in her throat.
The first conclusion is simple: it was two broken hearts meeting the reason for being broken. The second conclusion is, that whether she struggles to accept it or not, that it was two people meeting who probably are not yet over each other, this short conversation – if one could call it that – being enough to swirl up a lot of feelings and emotions she's locked deep down in her heart and pushed away more or less successfully for the past year.
″It's so good to see you,″ Platt says with a teary voice that interrupts her thoughts and pulls Erin into a long hug. ″I'm glad you came back,″ she whispers.
″Of course,″ Erin answers quietly.
″I'll buzz you up whenever you feel ready,″ Trudy wipes her tears away with the back of her hand and puts on her brave face.
″Thank you.″
It's weird to walk those stairs to the bullpen up again. It's bringing back a lot of memories. Memories she's not able to deal with right now. Like when she walked them up after a drugged out night and a call from Al that turned her sober in literal lightspeed, on a mission to save Jay's life. When she walked them up together with Jay in the mornings, their hands intertwined as they enjoyed a last moment enjoying the personal before the professional would take over for the next couple of hours.
″Er?!″ Jay calls for her from the kitchen while she's slipping into some jeans, a top and a plaid shirt in the bedroom.
″What's up?″ she calls back as she closes the button of her jeans and then joins him in the living room, finding him rummaging through the fridge.
″You happened to have emptied the milk?″ he asks and turns around to face her, a little too much frustration written across his features for such an early time of the day, especially since he is usually a morning person that's barely ever in a bad mood.
″Uhm...I don't know,″ she shruggs, knowing very well despite pretending she doesn't. Because she definitely emptied the milk yesterday morning. And of course yesterday they used their free Sunday afternoon to do their weekly grocery shopping trip and the milk wasn't on the list. Because she forgot to add it to the things they needed. Because a couple weeks back, before her boyfriend lived with her, she wouldn't exactly care whether the milk's empty or not, simply drinking her coffee in the morning without milk until she would remember to buy some again. But it's not as simple for Jay, who, for some reason, can't drink his coffee black because it does weird things to his stomach. And he also can't function without this first cup of coffee in the morning before they leave for work. That's what she knows as well. That's why she feels guilty for forgetting about the fact that she emptied the milk so that he now has to leave for work without this first mug of coffee that's essential for survival. She's just still not used to sharing her life with someone else and so she has to work on all those habits no one bothered about when this only used to be her place.
″You don't know whether you emptied the milk and threw it in the garbage?″ he raises his eyebrow at her and from the tone of his voice she knows he's pissed. She would be, too. But his pissed tone pisses her anyway because she just can't do those kind of conversations at 6.45am. She can't even do normal conversations at that time of the day.
″Well, maybe I emptied it,″ she answers vaguely.
″I'm pretty sure I didn't,″ he says back not exactly friendly.
″Why do you even ask when you already know better? Yeah okay, I emptied it, are you satisfied now?!″ she snaps, growing frustrated about his tone, the fact that she hasn't had a coffee so far either not making this situation any better.
″And you didn't put it on the list,″ he mutters under his breath, more stating than asking.
″Yeah, God forbid, I forgot,″ she rolls her eyes and pushes past him to fill her own mug with the black liquid. ″Can you just stop making such a big deal out of it? I promise to write everything on the list from now on.″
″Like you promised to stop throwing your shoes and stuff just next to the door when you come home? Like you promised to clean the shower from your hair after using it?″ he challenges her and she can't quite believe the warpath her boyfriend is on this morning. It almost seems like he wants to fight.
But two can play this game. ″Or maybe like you promised that there wouldn't be any wire for the 65 inch flatscreen because you have a guy and for weeks I've now been looking at all the wire on the wall?!″
″I told you he'll come as soon as he finds the time!″
″And I told you I'll work on all those habits,″ she fires back, in the same moment those words leave her lips wondering what the hell they're even doing here. They're both stubborn, she knows that, but if they continue like that, their living together adventure will be over before they can get used to the other being around 24/7. And that's something she absolutely doesn't want. To be precise, that's the least thing she wants. Because she doesn't want to lose him. Ever.
″Look,″ she says quietly, her tone suddenly placable, and she sets her mug aside to place her hands on his hips as she looks up into the most mesmerizing eyes she's ever seen. ″I don't want to fight with you about something that's so not worth the fight. We're both not perfect. And we're both too stubborn for our own goods. And you know, I...″ she pauses, ″I've never lived with a guy before. I've always had my place to myself and didn't have to think of milk or had to work on my messy habits. So this is a first, Jay. And I promise that I will work on those habits because I want this first to be a last. Meaning that...that I never want to live with anyone else again other than you,″ she says, her cheeks blushing by this sweetest of love declarations, surprising herself with it because for someone who's always dealt with commitment issues, telling him she wants to spend the rest of her live with him would actually be quite a big deal. But it doesn't feel like it is one. Instead, it just feels right. Because she can very well imagine spending her forever with him, waking up and falling asleep next to him for the rest of her life. And he deserves to know that.
His eyes start to sparkle unbelievably and she figures such a statement might have been the last thing he's expected. ″I want that, too,″ he says softly, the cutest smirk playing on his lips.
″Good,″ she smirks back up at him and places her hands on his muscular chest as she gets on her tiptoes to press a kiss against his lips.
″I mean, I already made you throw that pillow-habit overboard, so we'll get everything else figured out as well,″ he winks cockily.
″Who needs pillows anyway?″ she chuckles, her eyes roaming his body quickly before their lips meet for another passionate kiss.
It doesn't take long until she finds herself pressed against the wall with Jay's hungry hands on her waist. They kisses deepen like there's no tomorrow and only when they have to part because they're running out of breath, he's picking her up into his arms to carry her to the bedroom, to place her down on the bed that's no longer the residency of those 6 pillows because she has her very own human pillow now.
And when they later walk up the stairs to the bullpen with holding their hands and smiles plastered on their faces, they only answer the question about being late with the response that the line at the coffee shop where Jay got his coffee, had been endless, and silently wonder whether they're delicate morning acitivities are probably written across their beaming faces anyway.
There's no doubt that Erin Linday's morning moods have definitely changed ever since she wakes up to Jay Halstead every morning.
Those memories hit her as hard that she almost loses her balance and falls back down the stairs but she shakes them off last minute and focuses on setting one foot in front of the other. When she reaches the top of the stairs, she sees them all standing there together, minus Jay who she just ran into downstairs, and minus Hank, who's God knows where. They don't seem to see her at first and it feels like a slap in her face when she has to accept that they are a family now. And she's not a part of that family any longer. Because she left.
″Erin?″ Antonio is the first who recognizes her, his voice sounding like he can't believe his eyes.
″Uhm hey,″ she answers awkwardly, her cheeks blushing, and she feels hot and cold.
″I can't believe you came,″ he says.
It's weird how they all didn't expect her to come. But then again, with the way she left, she can't blame them.
″It's so good to see you,″ he adds before she can say anything and pulls her into a hug. A hug that means so much more to her than she can ever put into words. Because her greatest fear has been that they wouldn't appreciate her coming, that they wouldn't want to have her around, that they would be mad at her for the way she left.
But there aren't such feelings. They don't seem to resent her for leaving without a goodbye. They're not obviously mad at her. They don't tell her to leave again because she doesn't belong here anymore. They don't yell at her, they don't give her the cold shoulder, they don't question her reasons for leaving. Instead, they all hug her and tell her they're glad she's here. And she doesn't realize how much she needed to hear this, how much she needed those hugs and those words from the people she loves, and how fucking much she needed to come back until Kevin reaches out to wipe her tears away with his thumb gently.
XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX
Alvin Olinsky gets the most beautiful service there possibly can be, exactly what he deserves, being honored as the amazing person her was, as the priest talks about his life and merits of this silent, unagitated hero they all just lost: the Intelligence Team, the 21st District, the Chicago Police Department and Chicago herself. The church is bursting with people and while the Intelligence team – minus Hank who Meredith didn't want to come as she learned earlier - is sitting in the front row, Erin is sitting somewhere in the back with people she doesn't know, the tears running down her face like some waterfall, her brain still not being able to comprehend that O, how they sometimes used to call him, is gone. The man who always wore a head, who appeared right next to them out of nowhere, who always looked up from behind his desk with an orange or banana in his hand, who could smirk absolutely adorable and was the best undercover the CPD has had, was gone, joining his daughter in heaven now.
The service, this last goodbye, and the team in their uniforms carrying the casket, it all happens in a blur, and when the crowd's slowly disappearing after the car with the casket drives off to the cemetery for the private funeral, Erin still finds herself standing in front of the church all alone, battling her very own demons of how she is the reason for all of this, how it's all her fault, and she watches her former team gathered together from afar until it's time to leave so she can battle those demons inside her hotel room before heading back to NYC tomorrow.
It takes her some courage to join them as she feels like she's intruding this family, but this time she at least wants to say goodbye. She won't make the same mistake twice.
″Hey...uhm...″ she stammers clearly uncomfortable with interrupting what they're currently discussing, feeling like a foreign object that doesn't belong here. ″I'll...I'll head back to the hotel now and I just wanted to say goodbye I guess. It was good seeing you all again,″ she says, not having the intention to hug them because it would only create more awkwardness between her and Jay. She's looking at everyone but the man who used to be her person - he's the one she can't look into the eyes as those words leave her lips – and then turns around before they have the chance to say anything in response.
″Hey Erin wait,″ Antonio calls, what makes her spin around again. ″We were just discussing what to do now and thought about meeting in front of the Planetarium to drink one to Al, his favorite red wine at one of his favorite places. And then Molly's probably, who knows. Don't you want to join?″
At first, she's perplex because this innocent, lovely question is catching her off guard. Then her heart wants to scream yes because of course she wants to spend time with the people that are currently looking at her expectantly and still seem to care about her so much. Then she sees Jay's instead of screaming yes, some words leave her lips in a stutter: ″I uhm...I...no...I can't...″
″Of course you can,″ Antonio encourages her. ″You're still a part of this family. You know that, right?″
This statement leaves her speechless and lets the tears spring right back into her eyes and if it wasn't for her steel resolution, she would've started to cry right in front of them because these words, because still belonging somewhere, means so much more to her than she can ever tell them.
″Al would want you to be there,″ Adam says as she's still fighting to keep her emotions down and his words don't make this challenge any easier.
″Yeah,″ Kevin agrees, ″come on, Linds.″
She doesn't know whether it's Kevin using the nickname only he uses or most of the eyes she's meeting begging her to stay or a mixture of the both of them but she agrees to join them for their very own Alvin Olinsky tribute by nodding her head slightly.
Only for a second, when her eyes meet Jay's again and heartbreak meets heartbreak, she wonders whether she'll regret that decision.
XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX
The sun is already setting by the time they all meet at the Planetarium, a colorful sky of yellow and orange and red and purple colors with some puffy clouds right behind the Chicago skyline, the sunset without a doubt extra beautiful tonight, just as if someone is coloring the cloud especially for Al.
″To Al,″ Trudy says and they all raise their cups with red vine, not caring about the no-alcohol-in-public rule. Not tonight. ″He was one of a kind. A true friend. Forever one of us.″
″To Al,″ they all chorus and bring their cups to their lips to take some long gulps of the red liquid that has the ability to make people drunk quite fast.
They stay at the Planetarium until the sun is gone and the city lights up in the darkness, the lights sparkling on Lake Michigan as soft waves hit the seawall, and they enjoy the stunning view of their city glowing in the darkness until the first two bottles are empty, which isn't actually such a challenge for eight people. Since none of them feels like hanging out in a crowded, loud and busy bar, they decide to go to another place somewhere by the water but one that's not as public, one that's quite a bit away from downtown and gives them more privacy than this tourist spot.
Settled somewhere by the docks, they drink more wine and beer – although there's a saying that one shouldn't mix the two – and share stories about O that point out what a remarkable person he was, stories that actually make them smile. In the beginning, Erin is the silent listener and only nods her head occasionally because she still doesn't feel like it's her place to say something, because she still feels guilty for Al's death, feels guilty for keeping this secret to herself, feels guilty for staying when she's the very last person who should be here for this exact reason. And that thought, what would happen if they knew, lets chills run down her spine because as she's now back with her people, she realizes that so far, she hasn't known how much she needs them in her life. They are her family. And they will always be, which will make going back to NYC even harder, going back to pretending she doesn't care about all the things she left in Chicago, going back to pretending she made the right decision one year ago, going back to telling herself that things will get easier, that she only has to be patient and let time heal all wounds.
But she's too old to believe in fairytales.
The longer they stay and the more alcohol they drink, the more she takes part in the conversations and the more relaxed she becomes, the alcohol doing exactly what it can do best: making her chill and numb. Which turns out not to be a bad thing tonight because at some point, when it's already close to midnight, she's brave enough to ask Jay whether he remembers a certain situation, a memory about Al that the two of them share. At first, he looks at her in surprise but then the smallest of smiles forms in the corners of his lips and he nods, which leads them to telling their team together, this reminiscing even making them finish each other's sentences. They don't obviously laugh about it but they look at each other with soft smiles and share glances that are worth a thousand words.
It's a good thing everyone is too drunk to recognize them, including she and Jay themselves.
XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX
Of course she has to share her cab with Jay after telling the two cab drivers where everyone has to get dropped off. Of course Kim's and Hailey's places are the first ones the cab approaches. Of course it ends with just the two of them, her and Jay, sitting in the back of the cab as it drives to his place and then to her downtown hotel. Of course there's tension between them although after all the stories and the smiles and the glances it's a positive one, so different from the tension this morning and afternoon. Of course he asks her to come upstairs into his apartment for another drink – though those words don't leave his lips immediately.
″Alright, bye then,″ he says casually and only looks her in the eyes shortly when they had actually talked all normal ever since Hailey left the car seven minutes ago. But all of a sudden everything seems to turn awkward again, like the last couple of hours didn't happen and he just wants to get away from her.
″Bye.″ That's all she's able to say back before he opens his door to get out of the car.
She shouldn't be sad when the door is closed from the outside, she shouldn't be sad that this is their goodbye, she shouldn't be sad that this is how the night ends. But she is. And it's an overwhelming feeling she can't fight. She swallows the lump in her throat down quickly because after everything that happened, she promised herself to never cry for him, or any guy, again, because after all the crying for him, there are no tears left to cry.
At least she tells herself there shouldn't.
The driver is already looking over his shoulder to pull out on the street when the backdoor suddenly flies open again, Jay leaning down to look at her with the softest and most sheepish expression.
″Uhm...I figured...,″ he stammers, apparently surprised about his own actions mixed with probably being a bit too drunk, just like she is. ″Would you like another drink...upstairs...I mean?″
″I think I've had enough.″ It's her brain that answers, her dizzy drunk brain, and her heart wants to beat it for this statement. ″But thanks,″ she smiles faintly.
″What about coffee?″ he asks, not giving up.
″Well...,″ she breathes out, telling her brain to shut up although she knows it would be better to listen to it than to her confused, upside down turned heart. ″I guess I could need coffee.″
And that's that.
″Alright then,″ Jay smiles and she thanks their driver and gets out of the cab to follow him upstairs into his tiny apartment, a true mancave with the 65 inch flatscreen that once was theirs, and the mainly red painted picture of the motorcycle he already had all those years back when his bedroom was where they secretly made love, when she would come over to his place in the evening to get lost in the most beautiful way.
Feeling even more dizzy after taking all the stairs and those memories of their together days invading her once they're inside his apartment, she only throws her jacket over the back of the couch and then settles down on the floor, leaning back against the wall, hoping that her world would stop to spin. She covers her head in her palm while she listens to Jay rummaging through the kitchen and only looks up when he's standing over to her, offering her a mug of coffee.
″One milk, one sugar,″ he says and hands her the mug.
″Thanks,″ she answers, giving him a nervous smile and telling the butterflies, that appear in her stomach because despite being drunk he remembered how she likes her coffee best, to settle the hell down. She's not going back there. She can't.
″Is it comfy down there?″ he chuckles slightly as she makes no attempt to get up.
″It's okay,″ she shruggs. ″Didn't make it to the couch...my world was spinning. But when I close my eyes...ugh,″ she grimaces. ″It's bad no matter how.″
″Like riding a very fast carousel, huh?″ he grins and settles on the floor next to her.
″Yeah,″ she confirms. ″You can relate?″
″Definitely,″ he laughs. ″I might just've spread the sugar all over the kitchen floor because my vision's a little blurry. And I'm sure there's more milk on the counter than in those mugs,″ he admits.
″Huh,″ she chuckles and takes a sip from her coffee.
They sit there in silence, in comfortable silence, and it takes half the mug for her vision to get at least a little clearer, her eyes only then falling on the picture on the sideboard across the room. It's Jay and Al, arm in arm, bright smiles on their faces. And just like this everything comes back to haunt her, a sharp breath escaping her mouth.
″Are you alright?″ Jay asks, hints of a very well-known concern in his voice.
″Yeah,″ she nods mechanically, not taking her eyes away from the picture, which makes Jay's eyes follow hers.
″He was one of a kind,″ he says quietly.
″He's the...he's the reason I became a cop,″ she blurts out without thinking about it any further. This is something she hasn't shared with anyone before. But of course out of all the people it's him whom she tells. Who else would it be?
″What?″ Jay asks back in surprise. ″I thought Hank...″
″He played a part in that as well...but Al...″ she starts to tell him.
There is nothing worse than homework. Other than exams and tests at least. So in general, there's nothing worse than school. Which means she can't wait for the day she can leave this place that's causing her a headache every day. Although she has no idea what to do after finishing highschool. In case she will finish it. She actually has to put some effort in or she'll barely make it through.
Her grades aren't bad because she's not smart enough for highschool. Even with missing so many classes when she had to take care of her drugged out mother and her minor brother she's still able to follow up on almost everything. Except history. And political social studies. And geography. And economics. But she's good in math. In science. And in English. So it's not because she's not smart since especially when it comes to math and the logical stuff she's smarter than many in her class. It's because of all these fake girls, it's because she has to pretend to be someone she isn't: the girl who's staying with Hank while her rich parents are traveling, a story that couldn't possibly be any further from the truth. And it's because she doesn't know what to do with her life, can't picture her future like everyone else in her class can. They're all already talking about college and she only knows one thing for sure: she doesn't want to go to college, that's just not her world and she won't spend one more day in school than she absolutely has to.
″Hey kid,″ Alvin interrupts her thoughts as he walks into the break room of the 21st district where she's currently sitting to do her history homework.
″Hey Al,″ she greets him back, keeping her gaze focused on her book in order to pretend she's being productive.
″What are you battling with?″ he asks.
″History,″ she breathes out in frustration. ″I swear, this class is such a pain in the ass.″
″Can't argue you on that,″ Al laughs.
She looks up shortly to throw him quite the glance but her eyes stay glued on him when she sees what he's wearing and how he's looking in general. ″Did Meredith kick you out and you're homeless now?″ she raises her eyebrows at him.
″Naaah,″ he answers and takes one of the bananas from the counter. ″It's all part of the job.″
″Meaning?″ she frowns.
″Just returned from an undercover gig,″ he winks.
″Oh yeah...that makes sense I guess,″ she shruggs, her eyes still on him as she bites her lip with her teeth.
″What?″ Al smirks, being able to see that there is something on her mind she wants to ask.
″This whole undercover thing...isn't it super difficult?″ she asks since this is something she's actually curious about.
He seems to consider her question for a minute. ″Well kid,″ he answers and sits down on the chair next to her. ″You tell me: is it difficult to walk into school every day pretending to be someone you aren't?″ he asks, taking a bite from his banana.
″Uhm,″ she frowns, not quite getting the point he's trying to make. ″It was in the beginning. But now it's just normal. I don't really think about it.″
″You see,″ Al smiles, ″that's not a whole lot different from what I do. I pretend to be someone I'm not and over the years, it's just become normal. So you, Erin Lindsay, would surely make one hell of an undercover cop one day.″
There's no joke in his voice, no tease. He's dead serious about this but she can't believe that someone just told her that she out of all people would be a great cop one day. Yet, his words burn into her mind and at this point, she has no idea how much they will make her think.
″Yeah right,″ she scoffs. ″In case there weren't a hundred priors in my record. I think there are thousands of people out there who are better made to be a cop.″
″I don't think so,″ Al disagrees. ″You have your heart in the right place, you're smart, you're determined, you're not afraid and you're good at pretending, which isn't always a good thing but can be in certain situations. And you know what, Erin? If you seriously consider to become a cop, there are people who would help you make those priors and files disappear. And I'd be one of them,″ he winks and leaves the room, leaving her back speechless. Which is something barely anyone is able to do.
″I had no idea,″ Jay smiles after she's done telling him about this turning point in her life.
″I never told anyone,″ she answers. ″But yeah, Al definitely made me think that day. And I thought about it for months and liked the idea more and more but I didn't want to get my hopes up high because I was afraid it would end up being just another let-down. That they don't have enough influence to make my record disappear.″
″But they had,″ Jay concludes.
″Yeah,″ she smiles. ″And until this day, I don't know how they did it. They always said that's none of my concern and it's all taken care of. Not even Platt would tell me and she's usually the one who would do anything for me. Just not answering this one question as it seems.″
″So that's where this love affair has some cracks, huh?″ Jay laughs.
″Shut up,″ she giggles in a way that can only be blamed to the amount of alcohol in her system, nudging him with her shoulder.
And that's what he does. He shuts up. Though only for a minute until he gets up and comes back with a sixpack of beer. He sits down next to her again, they clink their bottles to Al and continue to share stories about him. How they once had to make up a story about Jay picking Erin up from her place before shift because Al saw them arriving in the same car in the morning when they actually secretly spent the night together. How he caught them kissing in the locker room in the evening when they were official and told them dryly whether they probably rather wanted to get a room rather than christening the locker room, not knowing that they had already done that weeks ago. How he and Jay once had a battle about being the better sniper, Jay winning this little competition by beating him at some fair on a Sunday afternoon and winning a gigantic teddy bear that he then gave to next little child he saw. How he became quieter after losing his daughter last year. How he called Erin when Jay had been kidnapped and how he then gave her the ceramic knife that saved both of their lives. How he's the reason that they're both still here.
And that's the moment it happens, that's the moment when she blurts her biggest secret out as the guilt and regret threatens to swallow her whole and make her break together inwardly. She got the man killed who saved her in two ways, first by calling her at all, and second by giving her the ceramic knife. Of course it was saving Jay that saved her from spiraling down into the rabbit hole even further and make her realize where she belonged but if it wasn't for Al calling her in the first place, she would never have known that Jay's undercover operation went dramatically wrong.
″It's my fault he's dead,″ she whispers ever so quiet that it's a challenge for Jay to understand her. ″If it wasn't for helping me...″ her voice breaks and she can't hold the sobs back anymore. ″He...he...died...and that's...on me.″
″It's not,″ Jay answers and wraps his arms around her to pull her closer to his body. ″He was not as stupid to not know what he was getting himself into the moment he decided to help you.″
Those words don't hit her like a slap in the face. They don't surprise her. They don't make her stomach turn and make her feel sick. It's not the realization that he knew about her involvement in the disappearance of Kevin Bingham's body, it's only the confirmation that he knew. Because deep down inside, she's known that he knew.
He's always been able to read her like an open book after all.
He doesn't judge her. He doesn't question it. He doesn't push her away. Instead, he only pulls her closer to his body and it makes her cry even harder, her tears leaving a wet spot on the fabric of his shirt right by his chest. And it takes a lifetime until the sobs are fading and the tears are drying and she's able to look up into his face, his blue-green eyes gazing down on her softly and in this moment they're doing all the talking.
There's a saying that drunk people are the most honest and in this case, that saying is true about drunk eyes as well, because she can see so much more in these mesmerizing orbs than the various colors of the ocean. She can see and hear his heart and his soul and she's pretty damn sure he's capable of doing the same. She can see everything she wants to see and in this moment she hopes, her eyes can show him everything he wants to see as well.
He wipes her tears away with his thumb, his calloused skin touching her soft cheek making her shiver, still not taking her eyes away from his as she wants to listen to everything they have to say. And it's when he stops wiping her tears away but still rests his thumb on her cheek and his hand on her jaw, when it's as silent that they hear their hearts beating, that they both lean in slowly, carefully, and caught in this moment, two broken souls and hearts become one when their lips meet in the softest, most delicate kiss.
It's a kiss that's everything but that she tells herself is nothing. She's drunk, he's drunk and they both probably won't remember tomorrow. Under normal circumstances, they would never let this happen. But the circumstances are as far away from being normal as the earth is from the sun. And so they get lost in the spur of the moment, get lost in two damaged souls still yearning for each other, get lost in finding solace in each other's arms.
She should've stayed with her first answer when he asked about joining him for a coffee. She should've known that they were both already too drunk. She should've known that they were playing with fire. She should've said no. But she didn't and so the night ends with them doing more than sharing innocent kisses as they miraculously manage to get up and teeter to the bedroom with stars dancing right in front of their eyes and their worlds spinning.
They fall onto the bed and undress each other with clumsy, hungry hands and fingers and despite feeling dizzy and being drunk, she knows the moment he enters her and they're back being one, that no amount of alcohol will ever make her forget that feeling...
Well, that was part one. I hope you liked it! Please leave a review and let me know what you think. Part two will be up soon, just need to work on some last details :-)