For the WebMD Challenge on AO3. I'm there under the same username.
Alvin's P.O.V.
"Stop! Police!" The shout brings the aim of six guns swinging around to Jay's location. Instantly Antonio and Erin sprint after Halstead, who in turn is sprinting after our latest perps. The rest of the team follows a few seconds behind, the distance in between members varying once we hit the stairs. Voight is a step behind me when Ruzek and Atwater peel off on the fourth floor to get one of the Ivira brothers, Jay, Antonio, and Erin still pursuing the other.
Halstead slams through the door to the roof first, and the shouting that follows isn't comforting. The heavy metal slab hasn't closed yet from Dawson and Lindsays entrance when we reach it, and we burst into the sunlight just in time to see the taller of the drug dealing duo tackle Jay to the ground. The roof is bordered by concrete blocks that are a few inches taller than the gravel covered platform, and Halstead has the unfortunate luck of being just the right height and just the right distance away from the edge so that the back of his head cracks against the edge of the hard stone when he falls.
Somebody curses - I think it might have been Erin - then Dawsons body slams the man to the ground, gun quickly pressed to the offenders temple.
"Make a move asshole, I dare you!" Antonio barks, pressing a knee hard into the man's back. Erin rushes to cuff the guy (the correct move, but one that surprises me nonetheless) while I rush to Jay's side. He has yet to move from his splayed position on the ground, yet his eyes are open.
"Kid. Hey you with me?" I tap his cheek a couple times, and while the dazed expression he wears stays, he manages to roll his eyes towards me.
"'M okay." He mumbles, pushing himself up to a sitting position, then rapidly blinking as he lists to the side.
"Hey how bout we stay on the ground huh? You are not…" I gently grab his chin and turn his headback towards me, taking in his dilated pupils and cloudy gaze. "...not all here right now. Why do I bother." I grumble as he uses my crouched body to stand.
"Is he-"
"We can take him to the hospital." I cut off Erin, glancing around the rooftop once more. "Where's Voight?"
"Went to help Ruzek and Kev. We're gonna take him in." I nod to Antonio, who pushes the suspect back towards the stairwell door. Erin casts a worried glance at her partner, hesitant to leave.
"I got him Erin, go. And if they have the other one, take him too." She nods, not satisfied but seems to understand the logic in my sentence.
Not two minutes later do the rest of the team show up, Ruzek having handed the younger brother to Lindsay on their way up here. His brows crunches when he notices Jay struggling to staay upright next to me.
"What happened to him?"
"Hit the concrete in a not so fun way. Concussion probably. He'll be a little off."
As if to validate my statement, Jay stumbles to the left, listing and swaying a little too close to the side of the building. Adam and Atwater lunge in his direction, Ruzek reaching out a hand and snagging Jays bicep.
"Woah, buddy. Over here." He tugs gently, steering a slightly delusional Halstead back towards the group, Kev standing behind him incase he decides to entertain his quest to the roofs edge again. Jay sways and staggers his way over to me. I take inventory of the blood now matting his hair, the still dilated pupils despite a sunny day, and sluggish blinks.
"How bout we sit down for a little okay Jay?" I take his other arm and he mumbles something that's indiscernible to the coherent ear. Together my partner and I manage to get him sitting against the wall of the stair well.
"He okay?" Voight pops up next to my shoulder, voice disembodied as I'm crouched and he's standing.
"Nasty concussion and probably dehydrated too but he'll be fine. Getting down stairs is going to be fun but we can manage." Hank nods, clearly pleased his detective isn't about to keel over and die. I smirk, watching Ruzek try and get Jay to talk to him. He might not die, but he sure as hell is going to kneel over and puke at some point. Jay has a pretty strong stomach, what after being in Afghanistan and being a detective in Chicago, but he tends to lose that control whenever he's concussed, as I've found out the hard way. Or rather, the inside of Voights car has found out the hard way.
...
Jay moans, tossing his head to the side in pain.
"We're almost there Jay just a little bit longer." I whisper, not daring to raise my voice any louder. "You're gonna be okay."
His head lolls, dropping to his chest for a moment before he lifts it up again, this time just enough to rest it against Dawson's shoulder. He's breathing heavy, alternating between panting and gasping.
"Al-" He wheezes, inhaling sharply, then squeezing his eyes shut and opening his mouth in a silent scream. He leans forward hand coming up to clutch his head with a sharp moan of agony. Antonios looking panicked holding onto Halsteads jacket while we round a sharp corner. I'm next to him, one hand on shoulder the other on his chest, helping him lean back when the spike of pain subsides.
"Right here Jay, we're right here okay, it's almost over." I glance out the window, noticing a passing street sign and flinching at my lie. Still another ten minutes to the hospital and it's been a twenty five minute drive of pure hell for this kid.
The offender is dead, shot by Voight after he took a baseball bat to Jay's head. Thank god he was so inebriated he overlooked the crowbar next to said wooden bat, but still. Halstead screamed.
This was immediately followed by them both crumpling to the ground, one alive, the other not so much. Jay had curled into a ball, barely breathing and unresponsive but conscious, so Atwater ended up carrying him to the car like that.
I think it is shock and only shock that made his pain subside to the point of semi consciousness, and the more time that goes by, the worse he's getting.
We hit a bump and I watch all the color drain from Halsteads face at an alarming rate.
"Voight pull over!" I yell, reaching over to unlock Dawson's door. Hank barely has time to sputter out a 'what?!' Before Jay pitches forward, retching in the back seat. He gags a few times, giving Tony just enough warning to pull his feet up onto the seat before stuff actually comes out of the wounded man, covering the carpet of the seat behind the drivers.
Hank pulls over.
I push the door open before we are even stopped, shoving Jays head outside the car in the split second before he pukes again. The poor kid is sobbing, the pain in head most likely amplified to an extraordinary level by the stress of what is now dry heaves.
"How far?" I ask, pulling Jay back in the car once he's done. Dawson puts the windows down as Voight speeds off, holding up four fingers in the mirror.
"So close Jay, Will's gonna help you okay, Will- Halstead!" The sentence ends with me grabbing his head to keep it from pitching his whole body forward. His eyes rolled back before fluttering closed, his entire body relaxing to slump against me.
"Voight!" Dawson yells. "Move!"
...
"You ready?" The question is more focused on Ruzek next to me than Jay who's staring unfocused at my shoes. The former nods, glancing up at Voight I think to double check. I tap Halsteads check a couple times, drawing his gaze to me.
"Try not to puke on me okay?"
"Wha?" Ruzek and I each grab an arm then place a foot in front of one of his, so when we pull on his shoulders we don't just drag him, we actually stand him up. He pales at the altitude chance but beyond that seems okay enough to brave the stairs.
He's not.
Not even close.
...
"That was so gross…" Mutters Ruzek, trying to wipe off his boots in the grass outside. Unlike Atwater and Voight, Adam was unable to jump out of the way in time. I give Jay credit, he made it a full three floors before pitching forward and starting to retch. Albeit, it wasn't fully his fault.
"Serves you right for jostling him like that." I comment, rounding the vehicle and handing the keys to our car to Atwater. "Make sure that craps off your shoes before you get in otherwise you will be cleaning the whole thing top to bottom." Adam just mutters darkly under his breath while I climb into the back seat of Voight's Escalade. Feels like deja vu.
Almost. Jay's not dying this time. He's just concussed. And very, very loopy.
"We're set." I call towards the front as he starts babbling about how sorry he is he puked on Adams shoes and not his pants or something 'because that would have made much better payback for that time he put red bull in the coffee maker.'
In his defense, while Jay looked two seconds away from heaveing the whole way down, he managed to keep it in check. That was until Ruzek (who was supporting him) abruptly stopped and tried to readjust his hold on Halstead who was tipping forward a little. Jay lost it real quick after that, and it was my quick reflexes that caught him around the waist before he fell face first down the stairs. Because, of course Adam let go of him right as his already unsteady legs gave out.
Hank starts the car and pulls away from the curb, hitting the gas right as Jay tries to lean forward (to do what, I don't know), but it serves to push him back into the seat. His head bounces on the headrest and his face scrunches in pain. Sighing I tug his jacket towards me.
"Just relax kid." He does so almost instantly, slumping against my shoulder with a low moan.
"H'rts." The slur is low and quiet, a near child like tone to his voice.
"Well, then next time try landing on the comfy floor rather than the edge of concrete."
"Wha?" I sigh, pushing him into the back of the seat as his head was in danger of sliding off my shoulder and bringing his whole body with it.
"Don't worry about it. Just shut up and stay awake."
"M'kay." There's a not so quiet scoff from the driver's seat and I glare at Voight.
"Something to comment there Hank?"
"Of course not Al." He replies, all sincere and easy going. "Just when you apply for early retirement and they ask why, make sure you include that you believe you've fulfilled your duty as an acting teddy bear for injured Rangers."
I heave another sigh, because really, it's very hard to come back with a decent retort when said insult is true. Jay has literally snuggled up to my side, squishing his face into my jacket and entangling my arm in his two, gripping it so tightly my hand is starting to lose circulation.
Honestly I wouldn't mind so much, because despite Hank's joking he won't tell anyone this. Just like he won't tell anyone (even me) that seeing Jay go down and not get up again scared the shit out of him. Or that he's slowly growing a soft spot for the kid.
We pull into Med with lights on but no sirens, and our exit from the car and subsequent trip into the ER where uneventful. Will's reacts to us dragging his semi-conscious brother into receiving with a raised eyebrow on a completely unsurprised face.
"What happened this time?"
"He had a nice conversation with the edge of a concrete block." I inform him after Jay finishes slurring an elongated greeting to his brother who's clearing not impressed. With a sigh he points to his left.
"That room over there is open, I'll get Rhodes. Try to keep him awake and uh…" His eyes scan his brothers body with slight distaste. "...maybe semi coherent? Once Connors there let him know what happened, he'll have a bunch of question. Then find Maggie, she'll have a solid stack of paper for you to wade through."
"Oh joy." I respond, voice as flat as Will's. Exasperated, I yank Jay up a little higher to stop his slow slide to the floor, and start dragging him down towards the room.
…
Will was right. Sooooo many questions. I understand the need to ask them, even some of the weirder ones like what he ate last (which followed the 'when did he eat last'). Albiet the nurse probably didn't like my comment about me not being his mother, but she was giving me a dirty look when I said I didn't know.
Plus side? I talked so long, and then filled out forms for even longer so that when I was done, it wasn't five minutes later Will's there telling me that yes, he's concussed, and yes, he'll be fine. Nothing was..."aggravated". From last time.
…
"In simpler words? He's bleeding. In his brain. And there's intracranial swelling thats...theres just not enough room in his skull for all that's there right now. Its creating pressure and that pressure can cause tissue damage and death so that's why…"
"You're drilling a hole in his skull." Erin growls, disgust evident in her voice, but only to cover her fear.
"Yeah." Will whispers and Lindsay walks away, hand pressed to her mouth. The team follows suit, dispersing back to various positions in the waiting room. I pull Will to the side, the need to ask questions without hopeful ears around making me glad of the presented opportunity.
"If...if he gets through this then...what about later? What we do in this job is… taxing." The elder Halstead nods, exhaustion painted across his face and grief in his eyes.
"I don't know. It really depends on if we've caught it in time and if there's no damage already done to his brain. Loss of motor functions and memory loss would be most likely, but that's in some of the best case scenarios. Yes, he could wake up and be mostly fine except for a lot of pain for a while, but odds are we're talking about full cranial depression. Brain tissue isn't regenerative, it can't be brought back. He can relearn some things but...it would be like talking to someone who just barely survived a stroke, there isn't much of...him left. Not that you can get back. He wouldn't be able to work anywhere...probably ever."
"Right but...if he did...wake up and was okay. If you caught it in time. Then?" I latch onto the best option, because this is Jay we're talking about. The kid is stubborn beyond all reason, there's zero way he'll let this beat him. He'll win against this.
He has to.
"If he survives this without lasting effects...aside from the fact that it'd be a miracle, every bump on the head would basically need to be checked out, every long lasting headache, every migraine, he'd have to have it checked. At least for the first couple years."
…
"He'll be fine barring no other complications. I'll trade shifts with someone tomorrow to stay home with him and he'll stay here tonight."
"Thanks Will." He nods, a tired look on his face.
"'Course. Thanks for...taking care of him. And calling ahead." I smirk, hand already on my phone to call Voight and let him know.
"Anytime."
"Get outta here, Al."
"Sure doc. Sure."
Finito. Shitty finito, but a finito nonetheless.
Hope you enjoyed. Sorry I haven't posted in like...two months... school is kicking my ass.