A/N: I don't own Chicago PD, Chicago Med, SportsCenter, NBC, or any other known entity. Title comes from the song "I Wish You Would" by Train, which I also don't own. This is my first attempt at a Chicago PD story, with Will Halstead from Chicago Med. I hope you guys enjoy this story, and please review. :)

To Be What I Used to Be

"Hey, you know what's crazy? Is that you and I, we went through the exact same thing that day. And, uh, yeah, I've been… I've been bouncin' around ever since, and you got the… the world by the tail."

All he could say to that (at the time) was, "don't be so sure."

But, in all honesty, he couldn't completely disagree with Mouse. They did both go through the same thing. Together. And there was no denying that Mouse didn't have it easy afterwards. When PTSD kicked in, Mouse ended up moving from one thing to another, up until Jay brought him into Intelligence.

And Jay… well, he managed to move on, but only after Mouse helped him put the pieces back together.

Or, at least, so it seemed.

Jay couldn't remember the last time he'd slept for more than an hour or so at a time. Which, made him a good bodyguard, at the very least. And, when things got really bad, he drank to excess, just so he could have a few moments of peace as he passed out. But overall, alcohol did nothing to aid with his sleep problem.

Hell, most legitimate sleep medications didn't even help.

Which was part of the reason why Jay currently found himself staring at the ceiling in his hospital room, wondering how he ended up here in the first place.

Well, he knew how he ended up here. And if it wasn't for the fact that Lindsay had already killed Keyes, he probably would be doing that himself, for the amount of pain he was in right now. The pain he refused to take medication for, because he really didn't need it. He'd be just fine without it, no matter how many times the nurse asked.

Or Will, for that matter.

The hallway lights were dimmed, which was the big indication Jay had that this was somewhere in the middle of the night. He figured the monitors had a clock on them, but he couldn't see them. Although, he did find himself strangely tempted to unplug the electrodes, just to see who (and how many) would come running. He guessed that by this point in the night, his older brother would be off the clock, pouring one out at Molly's with the rest of Jay's team. All of them probably cracking on him after today.

Stupid move.

Jay inhaled as deeply as he could, feeling the pain coarse through his veins. He would never admit (to anyone other than himself) that the real reason he refused pain medication was because he felt like he should be punished for being so stupid, for getting abducted like that, for letting them torture him and beat the crap out of him. He deserved what he got.

He wasn't worth it.

He blinked back the tears that threatened his eyes as he heard faint voices talking outside his door. He cleared his throat, scrubbing his hand over his face as the door to the room opened. All he saw was a shadow, dimly backlit by the light from the hallway. But he'd recognize that shadow anywhere.

"How come you're still up?" a gruff voice asked.

"How come you're here in the middle of the night?" Jay deflected softly.

"You didn't answer my question."

"You didn't answer mine, either."

Voight shook his head, walking over next to Jay's bed. "How you feelin'?" he asked the younger man.

"I'm alive," Jay replied with a small shrug.

Voight nodded, watching Jay's eyes through the darkness of the room.

Jay attempted to shift in bed, finding it overly difficult with all the wires and tubes and pain. After about twenty seconds of failure, he gave up, resigning himself to the discomfort of his position.

"Need a hand?" Voight asked.

Jay sighed before nodding slightly and allowing Voight to help him get more comfortable.

"You know, it's okay to ask for help sometimes, Jay," Voight reminded him gently.

Jay nodded, more as an indication that he'd heard Voight than an agreement to the statement.

Voight sat down in the visitor's chair, pulling it closer to the bed. "So, how come you're still up?" he asked again.

"How come you're here in the middle of the night?" Jay repeated.

"I asked you first."

Jay gave Voight a half-glare.

"You ever talk to anyone about what happened?" Voight asked.

Jay scoffed lightly. "Which time?" he replied, somewhat bitterly.

"Which time do you think?"

Jay arched his eyebrows and dropped them back down. "Mouse."

Voight nodded. "What about someone who wasn't there?"

Jay half-smirked. "You becomin' a shrink now, Sarge?"

Voight half-rolled his eyes with annoyance. "Just tryin' to make sure you got your head on straight," he grunted.

"I'll be fine," Jay said, almost honestly.

"You can keep telling yourself that, but you know we won't believe you," a voice said from the doorway, catching their attention.

"I thought you'd go home after shift," Jay addressed his older brother as Voight stood up.

"Someone's gotta make sure you don't give the nurses a hard time," Will replied, walking over to the bed and sitting down by Jay's feet.

"I'll check in on you later," Voight promised, patting Jay's leg lightly.

Jay only nodded in response as Voight walked out of the room.

"How's the pain?" Will asked.

"Fine," Jay answered quickly.

"You realize as a doctor, I'm trained to look through your lies for an actual symptom there, right?"

"Says the former plastic surgeon whose job was to reinforce lies…"

"Hey," Will started. "Shut up."

Jay smirked.

"Look, I know you, Jay," Will continued. "I know you joke and bullshit more when you're hurting. You'd take physical pain rather than admit that something's going on inside your head. And there's a damn good reason why you almost never sleep."

Jay sighed softly.

"I know I haven't always been there for you, but I'm here now. And I'm not going anywhere."

Jay inhaled deeply again, fighting the urge to wince as he did so.

"You're really gonna keep doing that, aren't you?" Will pointed out.

"What?" Jay said finally.

"Take deep breaths, aggravate the pain in your ribs, just to remind yourself that… I'm not sure what you're reminding yourself of, but I know that it isn't healthy."

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not. Otherwise, you wouldn't be awake at 3 am."

"You're awake at 3 am," Jay reminded him.

"There's a difference," Will said.

"Oh, yeah? What's that?"

"I'm worried about my pain-in-the-ass little brother, who just spent the better part of a day and a half being tortured by a drug dealer, and is now denying that it affects him at all."

"It doesn't."

"You're lying."

Jay shifted again. "It comes with the job," he said.

"Being tortured, that's not a typical day at the office for a cop," Will countered.

"And how would you know?"

"Dated a cop in New York."

Jay scoffed slightly.

"Look, I'm not exactly the most open, touchy-feely brother here," Will said. "I just don't wanna see you go down a hole that you can't come back from."

"I promise, I'll be okay," Jay said. And a good portion of him actually believed it.

"Okay. But, if you find you're not…"

"I know where to find you," Jay interrupted. "Or, anyone else for that matter."

Will nodded, seemingly satisfied for the moment.

Jay shifted again, closing his eyes. "Thanks," he told his brother softly.

"Yeah, anytime," Will replied, patting Jay's arm. "You get some rest. I'm gonna come by in the morning, bring you home."

"Okay."

Will stood up, heading toward the door. "Good night, Jay."

"Night." As the door closed behind Will, Jay found himself staring at the ceiling once again. It wasn't about having people around him that supported him- he knew they were behind him. It was that somewhere along the line, he became something different. A version of himself that was filled with darkness, much like his hospital room.

After Afghanistan, he shut down. Let so few emotions in. Fought hard to become a cop, to become a protector, someone that didn't let the stress of the job affect him. He kept people at arm's length when it came to what was really going on inside his head, until he couldn't take it anymore.

Then, he would hit things.

Spar at the gym with Antonio, or just beat the bag until whatever was eating at him was sweated out onto the mat. Those were the nights that he had multiple short naps, worn out from the day's events.

It tended to freak people out.

Well, everyone except Lindsay. But, then again, she was damaged, too. And Mouse never seemed to care about Jay's random, sober, 4 am texts. Because Mouse didn't sleep, for the same reason Jay didn't sleep.

War changes people. And a lot of times, there's no going back.

Jay grunted, pushing that thought out of his mind as he resigned to roll over onto his side, regardless of the pain the movement would cause. Because, he could see the TV better when he was on his side, and what else was he supposed to do when he couldn't sleep?

At least SportsCenter was on…

The End