Hey Guys! I have been working on this one for a few weeks now and decided to post the first chapter, let me know what you think! :)

S/N: Not like I am counting down or anything but 50 days until CPD returns!

Chapter One: I am Erin Lindsay.

I feel like I'm drowning. I want to pull the plug. I can't take this anymore.

But something is holding me back.

Maybe it's the high from the drugs? Or the numbness from the Alcohol. Maybe it's the thought of letting the man who saved me, down. Maybe it's the dorky smile and ocean blue eyes that seem to be there every time I turn the corner.

I left behind the life I love, I began hanging with a bad crowd and quit the job of my dreams. My life is spiraling out of control, and it is all your fault.

I woke up this morning to take in my surroundings, only to recognize nothing, its nothing new and defiantly not the first time it has happened over the past few weeks. I push myself off the bed, covering myself with the blanket that was draped at the foot of the bed, covering my modesty, or what is left of it... The room began to spin and the pounding of pain in my head became like thunder, loud and continuous. I quickly go in search of my clothes, finding the articles of clothing strewn across the room. As I dress I turn and look at the mystery man who is still sound asleep in the bed I previously occupied. He is older and well built, thin, slightly tan. He has dirty blonde hair, and looks to be about six foot five. His apartment is nice and well kept, but the vibe of the small details told me that this was just another one night stand.

'Good Job Erin, you slept with another jerk.' I thought to myself as I ran a hand through my hair, making sure I had everything I could remember I had brought with me, before walking out the front door.

I round the corner and find the elevator of the modest complex, taking the fifteen flights down to the lobby as I desperately tried to remember what I could about where I was. As the metal doors opened, I was unfamiliar of the landscape I could see through the windows, 'Where the hell am I?' I thought to myself as I located the front doors, making my way out front I caught sight of the Sears tower to my Left, Lake Michigan to my right.

'Ok Erin, that means you are in Southern Chicago. Which means home is approximately thirty minutes North.' I thought to myself.

I head North, towards the apartment, but quickly got sidetracked, withdraw beginning to take control over my body. I make a detour towards the corner block that has become ever so familiar to me over the past few weeks, buying a couple of grams of the hard stuff before walking up the street to drown myself in my sorrows and misery.

I do not remember how I got home, all I remember was waking up in my bed and feeling empty, cold, and lost. I feel like I keep repeating the same motions, get high, go drink, and sleep with anything that walks. It is tiring. I feel drained, emotionally, physically. I cannot take it anymore. I have thought about doing this before, and now seems as good time as ever. I'm somewhat still intoxicated, everything is foggy, but I can still piece my thoughts together. I grab me a bottle of Jack from the cupboard, before I walk over to the drawer in the kitchen filled with what I need, grabbing the first three random sheets of paper I find, I sit in the kitchen floor and begin writing.

Soon all three letters are filled and envelopes addressed, my bottle of alcohol is empty, but I can still feel, so I proceed to move forward, ignoring the vibrations of my phone I hear on the counter.

I stumble to my room, all three letters in my hand, and make my way towards the nightstand, pulling out the cold black metal before sitting down on the bed.

'Should I do this? I don't see why not, nobody cares anyways.' Invades my thoughts as I lift up my head, I get comfortable, placing the letters in plain view making them easy to find. I look to my left, and see the picture that used to make me feel like I was worth something, I smile even just for a second before I grab the picture and take it into my free hand.

I'm not sure how long I have been crying, my cheeks are soaked and my eyes are burning.

I grab the cold steel from the nightstand, taking it into my right hand, it feels heavier than normal, which is weird because there is only one bullet. One piece of copper, to do the job and done. I raise the small handgun to my abdomen, releasing the safety, my hands are shaking violently, I'm surprised I can do anything. I don't hesitate anymore, I press the barrel hard into my abdomen and pull the trigger.

I expected either a cold or a burning hot sensation to takeover my body, the kind you see on television or read about in books, the kind that allows for you to slowly bleed out.

But that feeling did not come. I quickly pull the gun back and inspect it in my hands before laying it on the bed. I thank my lucky stars that the gun jammed.

I do not want to die, it is not my time. I have so much I want to do, so much I need to do.

I jump up off the bed, tears streaming down my face once again, my legs seem to have a mind of their own as they take off through the apartment and out my front door to the stairs of the complex and out the onto the warm streets of Chicago. I start off in a run, my aching legs soon giving out under the amount of activity. I round the corner and onto 54th in a jog, and my heart stops. I could recognize those four cars anywhere. Of course they would just happen to be at the right place when I am in the middle of a mid-life crisis.

I should have just kept on going, but instead curiosity got the best of me awakening my detective side, I soon found myself standing next to my old car, keeping an ear open for any voices.

"Clear!" I hear Dawson shout from inside the house.

"Clear!" Yells Ruzek.

And then I hear him, the voice that can make my knees go weak and my mind haze. He calls me, almost every day to check on me, I ignore and he leaves a voicemail, to which I always text him back 'I'm Fine.', it has become part of the routine.

His rough voice yells something from inside the house and I am lost in my own train of thought, which was soon interrupted by the sound of glass breaking and a man jumping out the window. He lands on his feet and begins to make a run for it.

"Hey!' I yell 'CPD! Freeze!" I said as I went for the non-existent gun in the non-existent holster on my side.

The man, in his mid-twenties, flashes me an unsettling grin before he takes off running down the block.

I quickly take pursuit, as we take off running down the block, across a road and jumping over a fence, before he ran into an abandoned building. I slow my pace, grabbing a metal pipe on the ground, before I enter the unfamiliar setting. The building looks to have been abandoned for around fifteen years, shrubs have grown up through the ground, the bricks are graffitied as far as the eye can see.

I quietly make my way up the few steps of the entrance, before pulling the door open. As I step in with the metal pipe in batting position, I am struck in the face with a musty smell; mold, mildew, rats and roaches, seem to be the only things alive in this place. The open floor seems empty, columns are seen sporadically throughout the space, running from floor to ceiling, a few barrels are to my right, covered with a tarp and a stack of wooden pallets are to my left. I glance around, seeing a few doors lining a hallway.

'Too many places for one person to search.' I thought to myself as I turned around to head out to get my former team. I was almost to the door, when I heard movement come from behind me.

"Not today!" I heard the man shout as I turned around.

Turning around turned out to be a mistake. Chasing him to this building was a mistake. Everything about today, seems to be a mistake.

Everything happened so fast, one minute I was turning around to see what the man was talking about, and the next I am laying on the cold cemented floor. I thought he had just pushed me to the ground, but as I attempted to pull myself up, it became quite clear that it was so much more. The sound of the man's footsteps filled the room as he ran by me and out the front door. It became eerily quiet, the world around me was moving slow, at a snail's pace, and it began to spin and blacken, the only sound I could hear was of the blood pounding through my veins and my heart beating faster, as I felt a burning sensation in my abdomen. My hands instinctively went to my stomach, wanting to stop the pain. As I lifted my shaking hands up, the Scarlet colored liquid that covered them made me wish I had my Kevlar.

'No. No. No. No. No. This cannot be happening.' I kept repeating to myself as I applied pressure, finding it hard to breathe, the blood beginning to accumulate in the back of my throat.

The last thing I remember before unconsciousness got me, was all the things I had yet to do or accomplish, mainly that we never got more than our one day and that is my biggest regret.