Hey guys so here a new one of mine!
A little important side note:
This story is going to discover itself. Meaning that you are going learn what happens through many a flashback. It's not mean to be an easy story. You are going to learn about the past events through different characters memories and expiernces as they cope, both in the Doctors office and out.
That said, I hope you enjoy it very much.
To the real bloofy.
Halsteads P.O.V.
"Mr. Halstead, while I encourage the use of my services by police to deal with difficulties on the job, I also encourage that while they are here, they actually talk."
"Hmm? Oh yeah, sorry."
"What's on your mind detective?"
"I'm just...trying to figure shit out. I mean I understand you're a therapist and all and it's your job to get people to talk to you it's just that this is the just about the only place where I can...you know. Think."
"Here, in the one place you can talk. Care to explain that one?"
"It's quiet."
"Quiet. As opposed to your apartment in the dead of the afternoon or your precinct at four in the morning?"
"That's not what I meant. Those places, yes they are by definition quiet, but they are not for me. There to much going on, to much competing for my attention for me to be able to really just think."
"Okay. So what's there? What's so threatening about the silence?"
"What?"
"It's not that you can't think when you're in quiet like that, it's just that when you do it's not how you want to think, or not what you want to think about. That's why you don't sleep without headphones anymore, right? The silence allows thoughts to creep in that you don't want in your head. Which can be good, in some cases, like your, it helped you get past your insomnia."
"Yes. Well. Sorta. Yes and no."
"That's a little bit of a contradictory sentence Mr. Halstead."
"I'm full of those, as I'm sure you've noticed."
"Back to the point. What do you mean by 'yes' and 'no'?"
"Well, yes, listening to something at night relaxes me and helps me sleep. I find that when I'm more relaxed before I sleep, I'm less likely to have a nightmare or a night terror."
"But you haven't had a night terror in a while."
"No."
"Not since before the incident, correct?"
I pause.
"Detective? It's okay, we don't have to talk about that, I just need to know if you've had one recently."
"I-I honestly don't know."
"Okay. That's fine. Let's move back a little. What' s the 'no' again?"
"Well, actually it's more of a correction than a 'no'. You are right, silence, when I'm alone, is...dangerous. I think things, I remember things, then I think things about those memories. Things that I know are wrong, things that I shouldn't be thinking and I want to stop thinking them, because I'm afraid that one day I'll wake up finding that I actually believe them."
"Like what?"
Images of Erin hitting that table flash for a moment. I choose not to answer that one.
"You think it was your fault?"
"She did almost die."
"Jay I'm not talking about when you were captive, although we can revisit that if you feel you-"
"No! No, I...I don't need to go through that again. Sorry."
"Don't be sorry. I'm still a little confused on what exactly you are correcting me on."
"You said the silence is what threatens me, and you are right, but it's not really the silence that triggers it. The silence is what allows me to really think about it, however it's the, um it's the, the memories that make it hard to concentrate. I mean normally it's okay, some places will gives me flashes or remind me of something but now it's...it's everywhere. Suddenly everywhere triggers a memory, everywhere is uncomfortable, everywhere is just...wrong."
"Wrong." She repeats.
"Work is easier. I'm normally concentrated on something else, but when it gets quite in the precinct or when I'm alone in the locker room or my car or hell the hallway leading me to my apartment. It's all wrong. I'm think of things, I remember the things that I was thinking four months ago before this all, started. I don't think of anything but what I thought in the past. And I can't get over it."
"So when you're here..." She inquires, nodding her head slowly with understanding. I go quiet for a moment.
"Nothing bad, has happened here. Difficult maybe, you could even say pained with some of the conversations we've had but nothing...bad."
"There's no memories here. No past thoughts, no panic."
"Correct. The silence doesn't threaten me here. I can think but I can think about things other than the past."
"Good. That's a good thing right? For you? Just to be able to take a breath almost?"
"Why do you think I get here two hours early?"
"Well I assumed it was because you aren't working right now. It is a Saturday." She says with a slight chuckle.
"Your point? You've met my boss."
"This is true. Speaking of work, you mentioned how things are difficult there?"
"Not difficult. Different. Which is basically the same thing." She straightens and I can just see that spark of real interest in her eyes. She's always thought of me as an extraordinary study, especially after our first session when after an hour of her talking I only responded with one sentence before getting up and leaving.
She pulls off her glasses, dropping them on her notepad.
"Explain that to me."
"Not much to explain its pretty simple."
"To most people, yes. But you Lieutenant Halstead are not most people."
"Don't call me that."
"It seems to be the only way to really get you to listen to me sometimes."
"I'm listening."
"I think we've gotten to the point where we both know there's a difference between listening to the words I'm saying and listening to the meaning behind them. You choose to ignore the meaning, I will choose to ignore some of your wishes."
"Fine, then. What exactly did you want me to explain."
"It's my understanding that you enjoyed your job."
"For awhile."
"Yes. And on the couple of occasions that I've seen you for mandatory psych Evals following a fatal shooting, you've never described your job as 'difficult'. Most people, ignoring your past, most people in your position do describe their job as at the very least, challenging, both physically and mentally." I let out a huff of breath through my nose. She pauses.
"You disagree?" I cross my arms and learn further into the chair, for the first time in a while anger coursing through me after hearing about what other cops consider 'challenging'.
"There's a differences between something being difficult and something being challenging. After my childhood then my time in Afghanistan being a cop isn't exactly a hard job. I've always known how to deal with things, because compared to my past everything I encounter in my job is small, simpler. I can deal with emotional stress, I know how, but it need to be small. Most cops version of a hard day, is a decent one in my book. I won't go home smiling but I'll feel okay."
"So this job is easy for you."
"It was." She smiles slightly, then picks up her pen.
"That Mr. Halstead is what I want you to explain." I stay silent. That's sorta the theme in this room. There's a lot of silence between responses.
"Jay? You okay?" I nod smiling.
"I'm just...thinking."
"Mark Conlin, fifty two years old, currently in possession of a fully armed gang, motive to start a war, and about fifty million dollars to do it with." Ruzek slaps a picture the white baked, writing the name underneath.
"Define 'start a war' for me." Al questions his partner.
"Gang war of course. Apparently Mr. Conlin wants the money from the heroine trade in Lincoln park, currently controlled by the Green Dragons."
"Okay, well cool, but what does that have to do with us? Shouldn't a potential gang war be sent to oh, say. 'Guns and gangs'?" I ask, my fuse short this morning from lack of sleep. We just wrapped up a burnout case, meaning it was fricken impossible, but extremely important, so Voight ran us dry. No sleep, food only when you could.
Not like I can fall asleep much anyways, but at least I got four hours a night. I cherished those four hours. Now, after finishing my paper work from last night, I had just enough time to go home shower and change before I had to get back to the precinct. Which means I had about zero hours of sleep. Over the last three days.
However, even as the sarcastic words leave my lips, I can feel it. The tension my body has squired just Tom hearing about the drug trade. Suddenly I know where this is going before Adam even responds.
"Guns and gangs said that they were stretched thin trying to defuse the midtown dispute over on the east side, complete op piste end of the city. They sent the case up to us so we could put in a UC." My heart seems to skip a beat for a moment, then resumes, racing faster than before. The room is silent for a moment, everyone shooting fleeting glances at me. The last time we had an undercover operation it was quite similar to this, and it got me kidnapped, tortured and threw Erin and I in the hospital.
Needless to say, I don't think I'll be able to survive this case, even if Voight puts me on the watch and response team. He wouldn't dare to put in as the UC, but I also doubt he'll bench me.
I swallow past the lump in my throat, drawing my trembling hands back towards myself and off the desk.
"What's the play?" I ask, wincing at how rough my voice sounds. Ruzek stares at me for a moment, before dropping his gaze almost guiltily to the case file in his hand.
"Set out the bait, a new producer in town looking for somebody to sling and for some protection. Simple meet and greet, hoping to maybe get both from Conlin's boys in exchange for some decent pay. That should stalk them long enough to at least leave Lincoln as it is. Then once we got enough of them on decent charges, we pull it and take in on a bust."
Al then goes on toast a question, which sparks a conversation between the rest of the team. I don't hear then at all really, their voices mixing together to become just a white noise in the background of my thoughts.
It's too close. The case, the players, everything. It brings everything back from two weeks ago and smacks me so hard in the face I cN barely think.
"Jay?" I can't respond, my brain has switched into survival mode. I don't even know who's talking, their voice sounds like it's underwater, muffled and distorted. If I didn't know the sound of my own name so well I'd have no idea what they were even saying.
Suddenly the need to get out, get away from this oppressive room where it all began becomes necessary. I don't remember standing, I don't even remember walking to the locker rooms, but somehow I'm there and well, I can't teleport.
I stand in front of the mirror, my hands white knuckles on the edge of the counter there. As I face myself I realize a certain annoying detail about mirrors.
They tell you exactly what you don't want to see.
The truth.
I can't do this. I can't face myself, not after Nadia and then Erin leaving because of Nadia, then coming back just to save my ass and almost dieing in the process. I cannot.
The realization hits me like a brick, sending my breathing into a spiral. My face stares back at me in the reflective surface. Even though it's been almost since my time as a punching bag, the blue bruise surrounding my eye is still slightly visible. Pure and undiluted hatred for that face explodes in my stomach, adrenaline shooting through my body, bunching up in my arms until I can't stand to look at my self anymore.
Screaming I let that energy lose, slamming my fist into the mirror, not taking in the pain as shards of glass slice into my hand. I only watch as the whole panel shatters, pieces falling all over the counter and floor. Then I'm staring At my knuckles, watching the blood pour from them and a nice gash on the back of my hand. It's hurts, yes, but that is nothing compared to what I feel inside.
It's a pain so harsh it steal what breath I had, leaving it not to return. My feet stumble backwards, some need to get help making me turn towards the door. But I go to fast, my own legs betraying themselves, refusing to function properly so I end up crashing to the floor.
More pain assaults my senses, shape pieces of glass having sliced straight into my arms which took the brunt of my fall. My lips let out a sob as I see the blood. It seeps onto the floor, but it's not the floor anymore it's sand And I'm back there, in afganizstan, in the convoy and I-
-I can't breathe! My lungs constrict, my chest heaves trying to draw I air bit I can't do it and now it's getting worse. Pushing back I scramble on my hands in knees, slamming back into a corner made by the wall and it's perpendicular, the side on the sinks offering protection to my right, wall to my left.
My hands shake as I lay them on my knees, drawing my legs in closer to my chest. Safe. I'll be safe here. And right before I completely spiral I can think a lone thought:
Blood turns sand a weird color.
"-ou with me? Jay?"
"Hmm?"
"Are you okay?"
"Yes ma'm."
"What did I say about calling me that."
"Instinct."
"Bullshit." I smile. She can see right through me and she knows it. At first that scared me. Now it's almost comforting.
"It's payback." I mutter, the real reason making her laugh.
"Are you ready to continue with my question?" Again I stay silent, this time actually thinking about my response.
"I think so."
"Ok." She presses a button on her watch.
"You timing me?"
"I was." That throws me for a moment, until I realize.
"How long was I...'gone'?" She stares at me, pursing her lips and glancing down at her writing packed notebook.
"About ten minutes." I raise my eyebrows in surprise.
"They're getting shorter then?" She shows me the slightest of smiles, nodding.
"After four weeks since your first one, yes they are definitely getting shorter. And after talking with your team mates, they are also getting much farther apart; you have them less."
"Why is that not a good thing?" She states evenly at me, then seems to make a decision, unclicking her pen and closing her notebook, setting it on the table near by.
"Do you sleep alone Mr. Halstead?"
"Yes, you cleared me." I just about ask, I'm so uncertain.
"That I did. "
"You think that was a mistake."
"No, at the time it was the right decision to make. I just want to make sure it's still the best decision. Would it be possible to have someone sleep in your apartment with you for the next week or so?" I smile wryly.
"Don't really have a choice do I?"
"Well you do, but I'm going to personally call Voight to in form him, and I'm sure he won't give you a choice."
"Alright." I sigh, dragging a hand down my face. If it were an hour ago I'd argue, but these talk always make me feel like I've just ran an emotional marathon, so I'm exhausted. She must notice too, or maybe she was planning on letting me out anyway, because she stands, indicating for me to also.
"I think we good for today. I'm going to be seeing your team the rest f the week, but have Allison schedule you before Wednesday okay?"
"Yeah, sure. Um, same rules apply?" She nods handing me a slip of paper.
"No talking about what goes on in the sessions, no excuses for missing an appointment. This is your number one priority. Here is your prescription refill." She talks, motioning to the paper.
"Oh, I don't need a refill." I blurt out, not even the words until they leave my mouth. She stares at me in disbelief.
"Your not taking your meds."
"No, I just-"
"Why aren't you taking those Jay? They're to help you stay asleep. Like 'stay in bed while sleeping' asleep."
"Look, I don't need them, okay? Besides I can't use them forever, you said it yourself they can be very addicting. I have to learn how to sleep without them some time so...I don't need them." She just glares.
"No, you do need them, you just don't want to need them. Part of the reason I cleared you to live alone in the first place was because someone could confirm that you took your meds every night without having to be reminded."
"Fine. You want to know why I don't take them? Is because I woke up on my roof under half a foot of snow so cold I thought I was fricken dead. They don't stop my night terrors, they only make it near impossible for me to wake up from one." She seems generally surprised to hear this, which means Will didn't tell her last time he was here. He was the one who actually found me and helped women get over the hypothermia.
"You-why didn't you tell me this?"
"What's to tell? I don't have to ask you about everything in my life do I?"
"No, but- fine. Whatever. Don't take them. Your just going to have to get used to living with someone again."
"For how long?" I ask incredulously. She holds up her hands.
"Until you can prove to me that I'm not going to get a call from you at four in the morning because you don't know where you are or how you got there!" My mouth opens, then, after finding no words to combat her reasoning, (this did happen) closes again with an annoyed huff.
"I'll call will." I mutter through clenched teeth.
"Good. And gimme that since your not gonna use it." She holds out a hand that slap paper into, a now crumpled slip that held my prescription. I move quickly after that, just about running to the door. Her voice reaches me just as I grab the silver handle.
"Hey Jay?" My knuckles are white on the metal, the sudden impulse to rip it open, run away and to never come back almost knocking me off my feet. That's how these always end, with me wanting to run back to the alcohol induced oblivion I lived in for a short while, if only a day. Always feeling like I've made more progress in moving backward toward the start than to the finish. Of course then she always says something-
"Have an answer to my question when you come back."
-that keeps me moving forward.
BADABOOM! Ok maybe not quite but this story is supposed to be like roller coaster at night- you can't see where your going, but this only makes the dips and loops more fun.
Hope you likey! Review y'all! I wanna know if you want this to keep going or not!