A/N: I know, I know. I said I was done writing post 4x17 fics, done trying to fix it. But this happens when allenting on tumblr, and I really get into it and plan a whole fic in one sitting. This fic is like our baby. We made it with love and we hope you enjoy it.

I hope you guys like it, and if you do, be sure to let me (us) know!

"Hey, Lindsay! Listen, we were thinking of stopping by, sort of like a guy's night, you know? Jay seems so down lately, so we want to cheer him up a bit." The guys approach her desk when no one else is around. It takes her by surprise, so she opens her mouth to answer and promptly closes them. No words come out. She has no idea what to say.

"Uhm. I think it's a great idea, really," she says, trying to stop her voice from shaking, "but you should ask Will, not me."

"Why would we ask Will?" Kevin jumps in, and Erin feels her shoulder slump even more.

"He kind of lives with him now."

She feels their eyes on her as she admits something the unit has been gossiping about for days now. She has overheard the patrolmen downstairs making bets whether they're still together, and gritted her teeth when the women started talking about Jay being single, wondering if they had a shot. "No!" She wants to yell. "You don't have a shot. He's still mine."

But she's not even sure he is, which is why she eats the rumours and walks around with her head held high like it doesn't bother her, but secretly she wants to punch them all or go have a long cry somewhere.

It does come as a surprise that Jay didn't tell his friends about moving out, especially since it's been some time since he left.

"Sorry, Linds."

"Yeah, we didn't know. Sorry."

She nods, smiling for their benefit, because they just look so guilty and heartbroken that they hurt her, as unintentional as it was. "No worries."

Trying to shake it out of her mind—unsuccessfully—she doesn't want to admit that later, when she overhears Ruzek calling Jay an idiot, and Kevin wholeheartedly agreeing, she feels warmer inside than she has in days.

"We brought beer," Adam announces, making his way past her into the apartment, followed by Kim, who only shrugs at her, and Kevin, who pulls her into a bear hug.

"And hugs," he adds, squeezing her tight. "You're our girl. And Halstead doesn't know a good thing when he sees it."

She once said the same. As a joke, back when everything was easier. It feels like so much pain ago. So much has changed. She has changed. "You didn't have to do this. But thank you."

They sandwich her on the couch, watching the game, and she forgets. It's only for a couple of minutes, but when Adam and Kevin start jumping up and down around her, and Kim has her arms up in the air because their team has won, she forgets that there is a part of her missing.

She plasters a smile on her face, and joins them.

"Is this what single life is like?"

"On Division Street at 1 am, it is."

"Great."

It is that thought that won't leave her alone. It sits in the back of her mind, nagging at her whenever she has some spare time. And she doesn't even have that much of it spare lately, but the thoughts creep in anyway, and combined with nights of poor sleep, missing Jay and being utterly confused about their situation, it is what ultimately makes her corner him in the locker room after their case is finished.

It has been a hard day. The weight of the case is still pressing on her chest, crushing on her collarbone. It is never easy when a case revolves around the family of a unit's member, but this case was even worse. It reminds her that they live in a world where too many women go out to have some good time, and never make it back.

She whole-heartedly supports Kim's decision to leave for a while to be there for her sister. It's the exact thing she would have done in her shoes. But the fact is, she is going to miss her. For the past couple of months, she's been more than an ally in a male-dominated work environment. She has been a friend. And Erin admits that it's nice having a girl friend she can turn to when she wants to gossip (she's only human too), or vent, or cry about her boyfriend walking out all of the sudden.

Jay is leaning on the locker door, staring into it when she barges in. Her whole body is prepped for a fight. She's itching for it—needing some way to relieve her frustration. And he is a perfect candidate.

"Am I single?"

He turns to face her, his face lined with worry and surprise. "What kind of a question is that?"

"Considering the fact, I've been sleeping alone for weeks now, I think it's a reasonable one. Am I single? Are we done? Because here is the thing Jay. I don't want to be single. I'm done searching. I've found the person to spend the rest of my life with. So I need to know if that's off. And I like to believe I've been patient. I've given you space and time to figure things out. But that bed is awfully cold at night, and I need to know if it's gonna stay that way."

"Erin." He tries to cup her face, but she flinches away.

"Don't touch me. It only makes it more confusing."

"Sorry." He forces himself to take a step back, for her sake, but also because he's barely holding himself back from pulling her into his arms and never letting her go.

"It's ironic you know? A couple of years ago I wouldn't have minded. But you showed me, I deserve to be happy. You showed me I could I could a happy future. And you can't just take it away now. It's not fair." She clenches her teeth to stop herself from saying more. From telling him that he is still everywhere in that apartment. He's been living there for a couple of months, but it is just as much his, as it is hers. His presence is in every nook of it.

"I'm working on it," he tells her, desperate to keep the things as they are, but instead she's crumbling everything around him. His walls and defences are falling under her truth. And her face tells him she's not done yet. She has more fight in her.

"We left everything so vague. You left your things there, but you don't live there anymore. For all intents and purposes, you live at Will's. We barely talk at work, and not at all outside of work. I don't know, Jay. I don't know how to go on like this. I don't know that I can. Because I'm in my thirties. I don't want to have to date again—not after I thought I was done. I mean sure, I can go out, scoring some hot guy who's probably going to want to rape me or kill me, or maybe I'll get lucky and I'll find someone normal. But what we have—that kind of trust, the opening up? Do you know what kind of energy and time it takes to get to that place with someone else?"

It's funny how every thought she's had in the past days comes rushing out. As if there was no more filter. As if she just needs to tell him exactly how she feels or she is going to burst. She feels almost bad for him—especially because he looks a little scared, but she has things she needs to say.

And for some reason he's all out of words. He can only stand there with his face turning to the ground and listen to her lay it all out. The worst thing is she's right. While his reasons of trying to protect her were noble, he hasn't treated her like he should have. He has pushed her away and made her feel isolated and alone, and his heart clenches with pain because of that knowledge.

"I'm willing to work through this with you. I want to. But I can't do it alone." She looks him straight in the eyes. "So can you maybe look at me?" Her voice is so calm, controlled, it feels almost icy. But she has to keep her emotions in check, because she's not done yet. And she refuses to burst into tears during this conversation/monologue.

And despite her words, there is another reason she wants to be able to look into his eyes. Because seeing them—seeing all the love inside them, she finds hope again. Hope that she didn't have when she rushed in here to settle this once and for all. Because despite everything they're going through, Erin doesn't doubt his love for her. She won't insult him like that.

And even though her words are harsh, she has but one goal—to penetrate that comfortable wall Jay has been building around himself. She just doesn't know how to get through to him anymore, especially since they aren't talking that much.

If the pushes she has given him in the past were gentle, this is more like a shove in the hopefully right direction, before he gets too comfortable being alone, and staying at his brother's tiny apartment becomes a permanent thing.

"So, if you're willing to give up on us…" she can't help her voice shaking when she says that, because even the thought hurts like hell," then go pick up your things."

He flinches at the words, but doesn't say anything—like he hasn't said anything about everything she threw at him just now. But he can see the tears well in her eyes, the ones she's not letting fall, and he feels lost. He has never felt this lost before, not even when home was thousands of miles away, and every day could have been his last.

Despite her steel resolution not to cry, she does. Tears slip down her cheeks, and she wipes them away stubbornly, but they keep on coming, so in the end she just gives up, reminding herself that crying isn't a sign of weakness. It's a sign you care. And she cares too much.

She puts on her brave face most of the time—she has lately for sure. A brave face for him, for everyone around her. Not letting anyone see how much she's been hurting. This time, she just lets him see it. All of it. See all the hurt and the pain and the suffering. Because damn it, if he wants to leave, she's gonna put up one hell of a fight.

With her last words still ringing in his ears, she turns slowly, walking away. The hope that he'll stop her, or say something disappears when she makes it outside, and the cold air feels like a slap in her face. The hope and the strength leave her body, and the last thing she hears is his hand connecting harshly with the metal of the lockers.

She crumbles.

"You really are an idiot."

"You're the one to talk." Jay quips back, while sipping on his beer.

"Dude, if I got the girl, I wouldn't let her go anytime soon. Ever, really. And you have that. You have something really special, and you're throwing it all away, because of what? Some joke marriage? I mean, not to point out the obvious, but do you think girls like Erin just come by that often?"

He really doesn't need this from his brother, after he has already had an earful from Erin, and later from Voight, who found him punching the locker room after she left and offered some unsolicited advice. It seems like everyone knows what he should do. So why can't he just do it?

"Simple question: do you love her?"

"Yes, of course I do."

"Then go. Go get her, before it's too late. You can work on your shit and still be with the girl. And she doesn't strike me as someone who's gonna run because of a few nightmares."

It's almost annoying how right he is.

So maybe it's time for them to talk again, only this time, he'll do the talking.

Her soul is somewhat lighter. It still hurts, and she idly wonders if it will ever stop, but as she throws cold water into her face, getting ready for bed, she's happy she got it off her chest. Now she can stop waiting for his next move and just face the harsh reality.

She sinks into the comfortable mattress, wearing nothing but his shirt. She should probably stop doing that at some point in the future, if she's ever going to move on, but tonight she allows herself to get lost in his scent, and the familiar feel on her skin.

Her first thought when she hears movement in the apartment is that she is being robbed. As she's reaching for her side arm, she remembers that Jay still has a key and relaxes a little. And true enough, he comes in with slow steps. Their eyes meet—really meet—for the first time in forever, and this time she is the one to break it by looking down.

Because that's when she knows.

"If you're here to pick up your stuff, fine, but don't expect me to watch," she mutters, shaking his attempts to say something, as she jumps out of bed and storms out to the living room—the memory of Jay leaving her standing there too raw and too painful to stay. Then she stops in her tracks like she's seen a ghost, her eyes focused on the one thing set on the couch. She breathes in, convincing herself she isn't going to get her hopes up, but it's too late.

Because if Jay was going to leave, why would he bring a full carry-on with him?

He speaks, even though she's still staring at his bag, and not looking at him. If before she looked defeated, now she looks full of hope, and to Jay, more beautiful than ever before. The saying that you never really know what you have until you (almost) lose it rings sadder and truer now. He makes a promise in that moment that he will never take her for granted again.

"What you said before, it was brutal," he says, making her heart stop. "But it was also true. And it was something I needed to hear."

She finally turns, but there are still oceans of distance between them, so he continues. The need to make this right is as powerful as his need to breathe or eat or sleep. He can't lose her. "It's hard for me to admit when I'm wrong, but I admit leaving was a mistake. I did it to protect you, and ultimately caused you more pain, and I'm sorry for that. I never meant to hurt you. But I did. I've got no excuse, except I was wrong. I kept telling you to share stuff with me, and I didn't do the same. It wasn't fair."

She nods now, finally acknowledging his words as they settle in her mind.

"And what you said was the most needed wake up call of all times. Because, Erin, I can't lose you. So, no. I'm not here to get my things. I'm here because I want to come home. If you'll have me. I'll keep working on my problems, but I don't know why I ever thought I'd be better at that without you by my side."

"Can you say that again?" She pleads, her voice cracking up already.

"I want to come home."

She manages to shake her head into a nod, before covering her mouth and finally letting out a sob of relief. His arms open wide for her to fall into. When she does, it feels like she's finally okay again. All it takes from him is a hug, and she feels like all the weeks of pain and missing have been worth it, if she can only bury her face into his neck and inhale his familiar scent.

"I missed you," she whispers, a small verbal acknowledgement of what went on inside of her when he was gone. But he doesn't need to hear how bad it was. Because it was even worse for him.

"I love you," he tells her while running his hands through her hair. "I will never leave you again."

"I love you too," she echoes the words he needs to hear now more than ever in a way that is so unselfish it warms his heart.

If nothing else good comes out of this, at least it put things into perspective for him. He knows now, more than ever before, that she's the person he wants to grow old with. If his marriage to Abby was a mistake—a joke even—then this thing with Erin is something solid that's going to last.

She is the one person he can never imagine moving on from.

He pulls her back into his arms, holding on for dear life, as if trying to make up for all the times he wasn't here and she had to cry herself to sleep. His arms around her feel different all of the sudden. She can feel the heat through the t-shirt, and when he pulls away to look at her, she looks back up, waiting.

But the touch of the lips she had been hoping for doesn't come, and instead his lips brush over her cheek—so close to where she wants them, but not close enough. The spark between them is there, she can feel it—nearly tangible in the air—so why won't he kiss her?

She stands up on her tiptoes, reaching up until her lips touch his, and that is when she realizes he's been waiting for her to make the first move. The corners of her lips tug upwards. Her boyfriend—the eternal gentleman. She loves him even more for it—for not assuming that some words can mend a broken trust. That is something he's going to have to regain with time and effort.

But the access to her lips—and her body for that matter—is all his right now.

"It's ok." She nods, her hands cupping his face while she pulls him into another kiss. And with that notion of consent, he deepens it, his fingers digging into her hips with an almost bruising power. The time they have spent apart has taken its toll on both of them, which is why he ends up lifting her and laying her down on the nearest flat surface, which just happens to be the kitchen table.

She laughs at his frustration, leaning up to work on his belt, while his fingers slip underneath the shirt—his shirt—she's wearing. He tugs at the hem until it comes off and throws it over his shoulder, which means she's naked and he's still fully dressed.

But there is no time to undress. Not when the belt buckle gives in to her skilled fingers, and she's pulling him closer on top of her. He can't really stop himself at that point. He buries himself deep inside of her, groaning at the familiar feeling of her surrounding him.

It's a wildfire that rages on between them, as they destroy each other, making up for lost time and not taking anything for granted anymore. After he left, she spent hours trying to remember the last time they were together. But she couldn't remember exactly how it was, so she makes it a point to memorize every move, every kiss, every caress now.

He gets lost again. But this time he gets lost in her love; in her gentle fingers pressing into his back, urging him to go faster; in her lips patiently waiting for another kiss; in her eyes looking at him like thank you for coming back to me.

It's everywhere. It's everything.

And for a moment there is just the two of them—no demons, no past, no mistakes. Just his pleasure fuelled by hers, and the soft sighs mixed with moans that fill the apartment until he can't hold back anymore and collapses on her chest, thinking that if this is how being lost feels like, he never wants to be found.

What was he even thinking when he left her standing there and walked out? Why did he ever think he would be stronger away from her, when here in her arms, he feels like he could battle all his demons at once and still win.

Somehow, they've made it to bed at some point. She's sleeping next to him now—or better yet on top of him. Her hands are holding him so hard he might have tiny, finger-shaped bruises when she pulls away. Almost as if even in her sleep, she's afraid of him walking away again.

He will spend the rest of his life proving her fears wrong.

"That must've been some make-up sex," Adam comments when they make their way into the bullpen the next day. "I mean look at the glow."

She shoots at him with her eyes, but she's too happy to care about his antics. Despite his jokes and sarcasm, she knows he only means well, and the support she's gotten from everyone in the unit has been humbling and overwhelming.

She smiles for the sake of it, not caring if every single person makes fun of her for it. She has so many things to be grateful for.

And her bed being warm again is only one of them.

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