Title: The Way From Here
Author: ZombieJazz
Fandom: Chicago PD
Disclaimer: I don't own them. Chicago PD and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Ethan has been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.
Summary: Erin must deal with the consequences of her decision to take a position in FBI counter-intelligence at the expense of her relationship with Jay and her relationship with her family. But an emergency with her younger brother provides her with the opportunity to re-examine her choices and to try to rectify any damages to her relationships. This story takes place in the AU established in Interesting Dynamics.
SPOILER ALERT: There are MAJOR spoilers in this collection from Interesting Dynamics, So This is Christmas, Scenes, Aftermath and So It Goes (including chapters/scenes in So It Goes that have not yet been written or posted). This series also contains SPOILERS related to the finale of Season 4 of Chicago PD.
"So we aren't talking," Erin said flatly and Jay pulled his eyes away from the road – from managing fucking end of rush hour traffic around O'Hare to try to get them back into town. To where she wanted to go or be. Apparently. Now. In that moment. Not six weeks ago – when she also really wasn't interested in the talking that she apparently wanted to do now.
Thing was he just didn't really feel like talking. Not now. Because he didn't know what to say to her anymore. Not now. And for all the things he did want to say, it felt like they'd just fall on deaf ears. She didn't actually want to hear it. Not then. And he had trouble believing she'd want to hear it now. That she was in a place where she was ready and able to hear it. And he just didn't want to waste his breath. Because he didn't have the time or energy for that right now either. Not now.
"I just don't want to fight," he put flatly and went back to watching the traffic. Working at navigating it.
Because that was something he knew how to navigate. Something he could deal with in the now. Something that was in his control. What she did or didn't do. She'd made very clear wasn't within his control. And that even his opinion on the matter didn't count for very much.
She'd broken his heart. In more ways than one. And he was still working at picking up the pieces and trying to navigate that. Trying to figure out what the fuck it meant for him and for them. But if the first six weeks were any indication, it meant they were in a slow descent toward break-up.
A break-up that likely should've happened the moment she'd packed her bags and left despite his protests. His trying to talk sense to her in more ways than he could count. Ones that even went beyond their relationship. Ones that went beyond the job and CPD and Intelligence. Ones that went beyond Ethan and family and what they were trying to do – to make. Things he thought they were in together. For the long haul.
But apparently they were coming from different angels on that. Apparently he'd thought wrong. Because even if he'd been able to accept her false arguments that they both knew were complete bullshit - that it'd only be a few months, that it'd let the dust settle in Chicago and then she'd be able to come back to CPD and they'd get back to their never-ending engagement. Because now it seemed like there was probably an end in sight. Just not the kind of end that Jay had expected or wanted.
And when it hadn't ended then. When he hadn't accepted the writing on the wall – it should've ended when she'd called him barely a week after landing in New York. When he hadn't been able to pick up the phone so she'd left a message. A fucking message to tell him that they were putting her under and she wasn't sure how long it'd be or when she'd be able to be in touch. And he hadn't heard from her since.
And even though he could hear the sadness in her voice in that message. Even though he still had it saved in his inbox. Even though he still listened to it when he felt like he was spinning out from the case or just what all this was fucking doing to him. He still couldn't help but just feel … fucking pissed at her. At this. At all of this. At Bunny. At Voight. At Erin. About the choices she made and the priorities she'd picked. And how she'd pushed him out again. And how he was still here dealing with the pieces. And he hadn't been able to talk to her about any of it. Even if it was going to fall on deaf ears. Even if it was going to be a useless fucking conversation – as useless as the one they'd had as she threw her shit in a bag and took off to this supposedly temporary gig in an effort to save Bunny from long-term jail time and to try to somehow salvage her job at CPD. But he hadn't heard from her to have any kind of conversation about any of it. Not again. Not even now.
He hadn't even heard from her that he should pick her up at O'Hare. It'd been her fucking handler who'd called. Who'd told him the time she'd meet him in front of the airport. He didn't even fucking know where she was coming in from. What flight she'd been on. Hadn't even gotten to go into the airport and wait in arrivals to try to get some idea by watching the boarding and gauging when she walked out of baggage. Not that she had baggage with her. Or a phone. And not that looking online to try to figure out what flight it might've been – where she was coming from – helped. Not in one of the busiest airports in the United States. Fuck that – one of the busiest airports in the world.
And, fuck if he had time for that. To try to figure it out. Any of it out. Trying to figure any of this shit out was just fucking with his head. She'd broken his heart and she'd completely fucked with his head. He was fucking sliding. Trying to hold on and not turn into the guy he was. Once. And it was hard. He'd lost his stabilizing wall. He'd lost the thing – the person – who wasn't supposed to come and go. But she'd gone. And it pretty much felt like she was really going to be gone. And for as much as he knew he should fight for her – for this, for them – he also just didn't want to fight. Not when she'd just arrived in Chicago from who-knows-fucking-where without a bag and without a phone.
"I didn't know we were fighting," she muttered, and slumped against the door and stared out the window on the passenger side she hated.
Because she always wanted to be the one in control. The one driving. But she'd driven them right into a fucking wall. Or off a fucking cliff. Or at least she'd let Bunny drive her off a cliff and now she was trying to pull him along with her. And she was succeeding. Because he – his heart, his mind – had become too fucking dependent on her. And he didn't know how to be here. How to be a cop. How to working in Intelligence. How to be around Voight. How to still be in Ethan's life. How to do just fucking any of it without her. She'd sent the whole family he'd established – that he thought he'd earned, and the one he was trying to make with her – off a fucking cliff.
So it was a fucking stupid statement. "Didn't know we were fighting." Ridiculous. Of course they were fighting. You don't make that kind of life changing – relationship changing – decision without actually talking to your fiancée. Not just talking – fucking hearing them. Considering their point of view. Putting them before your fucking crack-whore of a non-mother. Putting what you had – the family you had and the family you were making – ahead of the fucking job. Of the CPD. Jobs come and go. They – their relationship – it wasn't supposed to. But it had. She did. They were. It felt like. What they had. Her in his life – the way it had been – it'd gone. And that hurt. Because that wasn't what was supposed to have happened.
But you don't just disappear for five weeks and expect to land in town and for everything to be OK. It wasn't OK. Not fucking any of it. Not them. Not what was going on with Eth. Not what she'd done to him. Not what she'd done to her family. Not the fucking fall out that was still coming down.
And no conversation they were going to have was going to be alright either. It wasn't going to let either of them go back to the jobs they needed to do with their heads on straight. His head was fucking twisted backward enough as it was. He didn't need her to send it spinning further. He didn't want to be more upset with her than he already was. He didn't want to hurt more than he already did.
"I don't want to fight," he responded again – even more flatly.
"We can talk without fighting," she said, giving him a glance.
There was a look to it. A sincerity. One that he knew. One that said she needed him. Or something from him. For him to be there for her. That she'd been through shit. That she was hurting too. And that made him ache. Because he wasn't sure how to do that. To be there. Not now. Not in a way that wasn't just going to fuck them up more.
"Doesn't look like you're going to be here long," he said. "I think we should try to keep it professional."
She eyed him. "Are you asking how long I'm here?" she put back to him with some tone.
He shook his head. "No," he said. "No bag. Figure I'll be driving you back to O'Hare in the morning."
"Pretty sure I've got clothes at the house, Jay," she near spat at him. "Unless there's something else you want to say to me."
He gave her another glance – his eyes going firmer. "I don't want to fight."
She let out an aggravated noise and glared. But she could be pissed. That was fine. He was fucking pissed too.
"And I think we can talk without fighting," she pressed again.
He shrugged and kept a grip on the wheel – tighter than he needed to. "OK. Do you need to stop by the house first?"
There. Conversation. And she should probably say yes. Because she looked like shit. She looked tired. She looked like she lost weight. She didn't look like she was eating right. And she wasn't wearing clothes that looked like her own. It looked like she'd meet with her handler. Gotten the message. Finally. And gone to the airport and gotten on a fucking plane.
And maybe she just realized that because she glanced down at her attire. The one that betrayed that whatever group she was infiltrating wasn't likely New York based. Or at least not the city. But a counter terrorism undercover gig for a white woman? It wasn't exactly the jihadis that they'd have her trying to infiltrate. Not likely. But Jay could think of a variety of other domestic terror groups these days that might happily accept a white girl into the fold. And the hair color likely only affirmed that, which she reached and tucked behind her ear.
"I think I should be OK …?"she said but almost asked.
He gave her another small glance and another once-over – more than he had when she'd gotten in the Sierra. "You should clean-up," he put flatly, purposely not including 'I think' in the statement, because she'd already proven she didn't really give a fuck about what he thought. "Change into something that looks more … like you."
She stared at him. But didn't say anything. She went back to gazing out the window. Let him drive. Didn't make them fight. About something as fucking stupid as clothes. Not when they had bigger and more important things to fight about. That they wouldn't likely get a chance to fight about this trip. And who knows what they would. And if it'd even be worth it by the time that moment presented itself. Because he didn't know what would be left of them – what they had – when that moment did appear. If ever.
"Will he still be awake later?" she finally asked as they started manoeuvring to get closer to an exit lane. Though at the speed they were going in the congestion, it wasn't like they were going to miss it. Unless someone wouldn't let him in. And if they were going to be assholes, he'd be an asshole and flash the lights. Get someone to open up a fucking space for him.
But he just shrugged again to her question. "Hard to tell."
She allowed a little nod. "Does he know I'm here?"
And that just earned another shrug. "You have your handler call Voight?"
She gave him another glance. Another glare. But then stared out the window again.
"Is he as pissed off as you?" she put flatly. But there was an edge to it.
Jay let out a low exhale and allowed her another small glance. There was a brokenness to her. One he'd seen before. But one he didn't really want to be a factor in. But he had a right to be upset. Ethan had a right to be upset. Voight did too. Though, Jay and Eth had their own pissed off aspect at him too. But at this point … Jay just didn't know. He didn't even know who to be mad at. He didn't want it to be Erin. But it was. It really was. And he was really fucking struggling to reel that in. Because he loved her. Even now. In all of this.
"He's still angry. And he's still confused. And he misses you," Jay provided. "Just like me. Just like Voight. Just like Olive and Henry and everyone upstairs."
She made her own small sound. Not a sigh. More of a sob that hadn't quite been allowed to exist. To be stifled even before there was something to be stifled. This pained catch of air. And again it was a reaction that Jay didn't know what to say to. How to react.
"How is he?" she asked quietly.
And Jay sighed. Because he didn't know how to answer that question. Even though he knew she wasn't asking about how he was dealing with her being gone. Even though he probably could've given her a fucking monologue about what that was doing to the kid. About maybe what that had done to that kid. How it'd contributed to where Eth was at right now. But that would just hurt her. And she was already hurting. And it'd just be a told-you-so. And what was the point of that either? Now.
What she wanted to know was physically. How was Eth doing physically. And the reality was that Jay had had to nearly sell this as her baby brother being on his fucking death bed to get the FBI to fucking react. That's how he fucking pulled out all stops in reaching out to his contacts. In finding someone in the fucking FBI who could put him in touch with the counter-terrorism office in New York – and someone there who had enough clout that they'd actually listen to him and do something to get him in touch with Erin. That's how he fucking had to fight even harder to get them to get him in touch with her fucking handler. To fight even more with that jag-off to get in touch with her and to let her fucking know what was going on with Eth. And it'd taken days. Fucking days. Almost a week.
It'd taken so long he really didn't think she'd get the message. Or that he'd hear anything more from the fucking jag-off until he'd gotten that unlisted number with no ID and just a flat voice telling him when to be at the airport.
He didn't know what her handler had and hadn't told her. He did suspect that they'd at least looked into it and decided that it was bad enough to let her come home. Even if it was only an overnight. Or however fucking long they were letting her be there. And that likely had her worried enough. Maybe a level of worry she should've thought of before. Because this was on the nightmare list that she'd dismissed as a possibility in her denial. In her efforts to convince herself that it'd only be a few months. And that everything would be fine and dandy and exactly the same whenever she got back to Chicago.
But it wasn't. And she should've known better. She should've seen in coming down the pipes. Because the signs were there in May. The signs were there when she made her fucking split-second decision to not spend time looking at what she had and to instead run-blindly into the unknown. To runaway from them. And run away from letting the consequences play out from her actions. From letting people help her. Him and Voight and her FoP rep. To fight for her job and her position. To live with the consequences if it couldn't be saved. To stick with the family who loved her – and looked out for her – rather than the one person who'd done nothing but hurt her time and time again. But instead she'd run. She'd looked out for Bunny. Who didn't deserve it. Not now. Not then. Not ever.
"He's talking about his grad and his Bridge orientation session and the RIC tournament with CPD on the weekend," Jay provided. "And the Fourth of July."
"Of course …" Erin allowed.
The kid was fucking breaking his heart too. Breaking it into about a million more pieces than the ones Erin had already left behind. And Jay still hadn't figured out to deal with that yet either. How to be a part of the family he thought he'd become a part of now. How to still be there for Eth now. What and who he was to Eth and to Voight now. Because like any of that shit wasn't confusing enough already. And now it was just … a fucking gong show.
"Is he going to be able to do any of that?" Erin asked. And the emotion was evident again. The breaking point she was sitting at. That she was coming crashing down from the denial and the separation and the reality of what had been done and where things were at now. If she hadn't been crashing before.
"I don't know," Jay admitted but sighed again and shrugged, shaking his head. "Natalie is going to try to get them to time things so that Voight can at least take him out for his grad."
That earned a glance. A stare. "He still wants to go to that?"
"He says they don't get to win," Jay put flatly. And felt his heart ache a bit more. Saw that ache reflected in Erin's eyes – as they glassed and she looked away. As she stared out that window.
"So … if Natalie thinks he can go out … he's … doing better?" she tried.
He glanced at her. "Maybe you should let Hank and the doctors give you a rundown when you get to the hospital," he said.
"Jay," she warned – but there was an audible weakness to that demand too. It wasn't as demanding, forceful or as warning as she once had been. "I'm asking you."
He stared at the road. He watched the brake lights in the gridlock. "He's not bad," he allowed. "They're supposed to start the plasma exchange tomorrow. Then I guess it's the immunoglobulin therapy. After."
"So he's going to be in the hospital for a while?"
"I think the treatments are about four days each," he said. "If everything goes alright."
Her hand threaded through her hair and she gazed out the glass. The pain and hurt and concern and worry radiated off her even more.
"How long has he been in there?" she asked quietly.
"A week," he said and her eyes snapped to him. He turned to meet them. "It was hard to find someone who could get you a message."
Her eyes glassed more and she set her temple against the passenger-side glass, trying to divert them as she looked at the traffic. The snail's pace to get back to the city's core. To their home. Or what had been their home. Now it was pretty much empty. It felt that way too. She wasn't there. And Jay didn't feel like he had much reason to be there. He didn't really want to be there. In an empty house. A reminder of the plans they'd made. The life they were trying to establish. And now he didn't know where any of that was. Or where it would ever be. How long they'd keep the place. Or how long it'd be before she was moving back into her condo. That maybe it was good that it'd never gone on the market. Maybe it was good that Will still hadn't found a place to live yet. But why would he? The townhouse had become his own personal and very spacious crash pad at a bargain basement rental price of … nothing.
But Jay couldn't be angry at that. He actually was almost grateful that Will was there. Because at least it meant the house didn't feel so empty. At least there was some kind of distraction when he was there. Someone to almost keep him in reality even if he pissed him off in ways all of his own. But at least dealing with Will and him trying to sort his life out was a better option than finding a bottle to crawl into or diving into Xbox games he shouldn't be playing. Not that he and Will hadn't done some of Column A and Column B together anyway. But at least they had a partner in crime to act as their excuse and to sort of keep some sort of tether in the real world.
The real world was real enough anyway. The best distraction of all. Work. There was that to get buried in. But at the same time … the job just didn't feel the same. Not now.
"Listen, I'll wait for you to clean-up at the house but after I drop you off at Med, I need to head back into District," he said.
He got some side-eye at that. He could feel it. "Why?" she asked.
"Confidential matter," he said flatly.
Even though it wasn't. It was just that if she wasn't going to talk about work – he wasn't either. He knew she couldn't. But he really shouldn't be either. Because she wasn't Intelligence anymore. She wasn't CPD anymore. He wasn't even sure if she was … Jay just wasn't sure what she was anymore. Right now. To him. Or him to her. To each other. He wasn't sure who she was. Or where she was. Or where they were or where they were going to be after this little bit of compassion care furlough she got came and went. And when would that be? Tomorrow morning? Sunday night? Next week? Until Eth got out of the hospital? Until he was better? And when the fuck would that be?
Because the other reality was they were on a death watch. He may not die tomorrow. Or the next day or next week or next month or next year. But they were on a slow fucking decline. A fucking fight for his life. Or for him to make something of the life he had. And he was never going to be better. So when that's the fucking reality how do they decide how long she gets to be home? What amount of time do they fucking place on it? How long until it blew the case? Or she blew her cover? He didn't fucking know. But he wouldn't be surprised if they'd given her maybe 24 to 72 hours to come and see and do and say whatever it was she needed to see or do or say.
And that wasn't really going to help anything. It wasn't going to help them. Or her. Or Ethan. It was likely just going to get all of them upset.
So maybe he shouldn't have called. Maybe he shouldn't have tracked her down and made sure she knew her little brother was in the hospital. But things hadn't looked good at the start. It'd been fucking terrifying at the start. And he knew she'd want to know. That she'd want to be there. That she would've wanted to be there when fucking 51 called the bullpen before the fucking school had even gotten onto the phone to Hank. When Gabby had been the one treating Ethan's seizing body on the fucking tiled bathroom floor at Ignatius.
Erin would've wanted to be there in the ER when they tried to figure out what the hell was going on. To be there for those first rounds of imaging and doctors and increasing number of specialists. She would've wanted to be there during the discussions about treatment and to talk to Hank when he decided on the route they were taking. The one that Jay was sure a cop's health benefits wouldn't come anywhere covering in its entirety – if it even covered it at all. And one that Will had told him was literally costing tens of thousands of dollars a day – just in the treatment. Not in the doctor's time and the fact the kid was occupying a hospital bed and still having tests done on him and other medication and fluids being pumped into him. And she would've wanted to be there to hug and comfort Eth as he finally came too and realized he couldn't see. Just like she'd want to hug and comfort him now in the moments he became overwhelmed and panicked about what was happening to his body and how all the medication was making him feel. And she'd want to sit and pray with the rest of them – as much as any of them fucking prayed – that at least things were under control enough now that the seizures had passed. Even if the rest of his body's functioning – and the way his brain and neuro-system communicated with his fragile body – was still in fucking disarray.
But that maybe that'd change in the coming days. When they cleared him of his blood and tried to wash out all its fucking infection and inflammation before pumping him full of other people's immunoglobulin in the hopes that foreign material would somehow know how to fight back inflammation than Eth's body did. That maybe then there'd be some light at the end of the tunnel – and in his eyes. And that he'd be back on his feet and be well enough to push through some of these things he kept talking about – clinging to – about what his summer was going to look like. What he was going to do. Even if the optic neuritis meant that he wouldn't be seeing – at least not very clearly at all - any of these things that he had on his list. A list he needed – to go over and over with all of them – to try to get through this fucking hump.
But he didn't get into any of that. Because she was there. The decision had already been made. He'd made his. She'd made hers. And when it came to this – Jay knew that this was at least where Erin wanted to be. That if he and their relationship hadn't been enough. And if Eth and Hank and Henry and Olive hadn't been enough. Before. Ethan was now.
So he just pulled back his snark. Because she hadn't even replied beyond making a disgusted sound at his line. And that was likely warranted. It was a jab when he'd said he didn't want to fight. And he'd taken a swing.
"I'm running point," he said flatly.
"What about Al?" she asked, giving him a look. There was mild surprise to it. That he'd been trusted with that job. Given in.
"He's helping," Jay said. "But Olinsky and paperwork …"
Alvin might go all out when it came to forging paperwork and creating a paper trail. But giving the Ivory Tower the kind of bullshit forms and reports they wanted daily, weekly and with each and every case? That was a different story. He didn't have the time of day for that shit. And Jay didn't exactly blame him.
"How's it going?" she asked.
Jay shrugged. "It's bullshit," he provided. "Ruzek and Upton don't listen. I've had to be an asshole."
She gave him a thin smile and a little arc of the eyebrow at that. This little jab of her own. Like being an asshole wasn't much of a stretch for him even on his better days.
"Is Kim back yet?" was all she asked, though.
He nodded. "Yea," he allowed. "She knows what's going on. That we're short handed."
That got a little nod out of her but she kept staring out the window. "I can get to the hospital myself."
"It's fine," he said. "I should take the dog out for a quick run anyway."
Her eyes drifted back to him. "Has he left the hospital at all?"
And he still didn't know how to answer that beyond shrug again. "Maybe to shower and change," he allowed of Hank. That might be being generous. He was actually fairly certain that Olive had gone and retrieved some clothes and things from Eth's room for him.
"Not work?" she asked. "At all?"
Because maybe that was the true gauge.
"He's on administrative leave," Jay said. Her eyes snapped to his again. But he only met them with a look that said she could ask Voight about that himself. Though, he did give the spoiler of, "Al and Platt went and smoothed things over. I think he's switching over to furlough or family leave on Monday."
She exhaled again and rested her head against the window. "I shouldn't have left," she said at almost a whisper.
And again all Jay could find in him was to shrug. "But you did," he said.
Her eyes drifted his way. Slowly. Watery. Her lips trembled a bit and she screwed them in an effort to not let her body and her emotions betray her. To try to hid from him – and the decisions she'd made – some more. To shove them back that many steps further from the progress they'd made. And from trying to figure out some way back. Or someway out. Or at least where the fuck they went in all of this. Now.
"But you're back now …" he allowed. And that was going to have to be where they started. For now. Whatever the fuck now was.
AUTHOR NOTE:
So … I decided to use this as a sort of bridge. A place for me to get to in terms of So It Goes. And then a place for me to work from if/after I get that far.
Basically this is going to be maybe 4-10 chapters dealing with how to cast and redirect this AU for if Erin had made the decision to go to counter-intelligence. What it would mean for them as a couple and a family. And then how they move beyond it.
It's a recast of the finale and its implications to try to make it jive with the story, plot, characters and the arcs with the AU's.
Hopefully that makes some sense. Hopefully it's an OK read. I do have an idea where this is going and know how it's going to end. So hopefully it will be a quick and easy write. And hopefully it will be enough to motivate me to finish up the previous stories and their chapters, scenes and arcs. But this collection of chapters might serve as the logical conclusion of this AU generally. As I'm not sure there will be much material in the series going forward that will inspire me and I'm not sure I'll be watching in the fall beyond the first few episodes.
I may go back and finish up the pregnancy one. But right now it's not a priority and not sure if/when it will be now.
Anyway, I hope you liked the first chapter. Your reviews, feedback and comments are always much appreciated.