Hey y'all! So I wrote this yesterday, but did not have a chance to post it so here it is today! :)

This story is written in Jay's Point of View, the things that I thought were possibly going through his head. It's based on things that happened in 2x23 (Season Finale) and my thoughts on what could have happened thereafter. For now this is a One-Shot, but I might make it into a Two/Three Shot. So Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Chicago PD nor any of the characters.

This Morning.

This Morning I woke up.

This Morning I got dressed.

This Morning I thought would be like the rest…

The constant beeping of my alarm wakes me out of my slumber, the slumber my body so desperately craved, the slumber that provided me with dreams of happiness, where everything was somewhat like a fairy tale. A dream that has been robbed by the reality and the darkness of the real world. I roll over to find its 5:45, and mentally curse myself as I do every morning for setting the alarm for this early, but I want to run, I need to run. I drag myself out of bed and throw the sweats I am wearing into the corner, finding a blackhawks pull-over and some jersey shorts; I un-plug my iPhone from my nightstand, quickly checking for any missed calls or messages, not surprised that there were none. I quickly make my way to the kitchen and grab my headphones, before heading out the apartment door.

I hit the pitch black streets of Chicago running, music pumping through my ears, adrenaline through my veins. The coldness of the spring morning, hitting my face, burning my lungs. I keep pushing. I have to. Running is the only thing keeping me sane. Running is where I can forgot about all the problems in the world; where I can forget about the woman of my dreams, my partner, my best friend, who is spiraling out of control. Just last night she had a bounty placed on her head, like I did not too long ago. We went to her apartment, guns a blazing. I wanted to rescue her, like she had done for me so many months ago, but when we arrived to come to her rescue, it was like I had been slapped in the face, and boy what a fool I am. We ran into her apartment and here she is, with.. with this other man, loving on him, comforting him, making sure that with the little bump on the back of his head, that he was fine. The man whom I wanted to punch in the face and possibly throw off a roof was fine, but she was not. She was most certainly not fine, and everyone could see through the paper thin curtain she was putting up.

The woman that I thought was made out of Vibranium, that her past was just that, the past, was spiraling out of control. I seen the ruminates of the white powder on her coffee table, the cuts and scratches in the glass that followed, I noticed an empty bottle of practically every kind of alcohol one could imagine, bourbon, whiskey, vodka, tequila, brandy, gin, rum, beer, and would not put it past her to have moonshine hid somewhere. This hole that she was digging herself into, just keeps getting deeper, and I am not sure that she will allow me to be the one holding the ladder if she ever decides to crawl out.

Earlier that same evening I told her in confidence "I don't care where you were, but know that I am looking out for you." Some partner I am.

When seeing that she and this 'boy toy' were ok, I found it hard to speak, my mouth being as dry as the Sahara desert. "You had us worried there for a sec." was all I could manage. Me. You had ME worried. You HAVE ME worried. I wanted to scream at her but recanted, I did not want to get in a pissing match with her and just confirm our previous relationship to her pseudo-father, and our boss Hank Voight. I have to go. I need to go. Before I had a chance to process my thoughts or actions anymore my feet hit the pavement running, my Kevlar vest scratching at the shirt underneath. Silent tears, streaming down my cheek. The heartache hurts. The pain hurts. I run. I run to the precinct and into the basement, quickly sheading the weapon that was strapped to my vest. Ignoring Mouse who was asking if I was ok. Do I look ok? I just ran fifteen miles in twenty minutes, I just ran from the love of my life's apartment who happens to be throwing her life away because she thinks she got the hooker and drug addict that she rescued off the streets, raped, tortured, and then murdered because it was her birthday. Yeah, sure Mouse I am fine. I quickly continued up to the main floor of the precinct, blowing off Platt who was asking where the fire was. I continued my pursuit upstairs, grabbing my keys, still in my vest. Just then noticing that my phone was ringing. Twenty missed calls from Voight, fifteen missed calls from Antonio, and about ten texts between the two. None of these were from the person that matters most, like she should care. I am not even going to bother responding, so what if I get fired or reprimanded? After a day like today, I really do not care.

The normal twenty minute drive to my apartment took only ten, yes, I broke several laws, but I have a carefree attitude right now, if I was to get pulled over, I could probably just flash my badge and be on my merrily way. After ten minutes, so searching for a parking space even relatively close, I finally found one, I mean seriously could this evening get any worse?! I ran up the five flights of stairs, it seems like physical activity calms me down, speaking of which tomorrow is gym day, yesss. I walk into the dark apartment, stripping myself of the vest that has saved my life more than once, ditching the boots that were most defiantly going to leave blisters. Joy. I strode over to the refrigerator and grabbed a beer, the amber liquid quenching my thirst, I grab another and then another and before I knew it I had drunken the whole six-pack and was starting to nurse the bottle of whiskey that had been hidden in the coffee table beside the couch, reserved for in case of emergencies only. Hoping to temporarily drink the pain and heartache away, as I have tried off and on for weeks now, only to result in failure. I plop my happily drunken ass on the couch and proceed to pull up the pre-recorded NHL Stanley Cup playoffs of the Blackhawks. 'Error: Code 04? What tha?' Yep. I was wrong. My evening has gotten worse. I think I am just going to take a shower and go to bed. I quickly shower and change into sweats, and fall into bed. Today has not really been my day, I hope tomorrow will be better.

…my morning run quickly took a detour when I remembered that the gym was open, and man how I could work off some steam. The poor punching bag got the jest of it. I punched, kicked, hooking and striking left and right, high and low. I could have yelled and screamed at the bag, with the way I was feeling. Had there been more people in the gym I would have gotten some weird looks, whatever, after everything that has happened recently, a few of us in Intelligence need to be placed in a padded room with strait jackets. I glance down at my phone and notice that it is almost seven.

'I could work on this bag for another hour but I would rather not reek when I get to work..'

I made my way back to my apartment, quickly showering, walking to the dresser to try and find a clean cotton shirt, which reminds me I really need to do the laundry when I get home tonight, because if not 1. Lindsay will never let me drive when she recovers, 2. Voight will most certainly transfer me, and 3. The bad guys will drop like flies, which would not be a bad thing.. I make me some coffee and toast me a bagel before making my way out the door.

'I still cannot get used to this.' Was my first thought as I made my way towards the driver side of my car. Fifteen days. For the past fifteen days I have driven to work. Eight days ago, she told a man to put a bullet in her brain, she wanted to die, she wanted the pain and heartache to end, because she thought that Nadia dying was her fault. When will we get it through her thick skull that it was not her fault? Fifteen. Fifteen days ago, she let me drive saying "It's my gift. Well, it's from Nadia. I told her how you said you feel like a house husband, riding shotgun all the time. And she got all righteous and she goes, "Erin you need to let him drive a little." I could not help but laugh, that was just so… Nadia. I suggested that we do a Kuma's night, with some Black Sabbath burgers, as that was Nadia's favorite spot, but she just blew me off. Twenty-Two. Twenty-Two days ago I, Jay Halstead sent Nadia DeCotis, to retrieve a Birthday cake for a surprise party. She never returned. And that is on me. I got Nadia killed.

I pulled into the parking lot and made my way upstairs, polishing off the now cool bagel that I made at the apartment. I walk into the bull pen and see that she is once again late for work, or maybe she is taking a personal day, if it is the former than one thing is for sure Voight is going to be as ill as a hornet today. The team slowly makes their way up the stair case, Antonio and Ruzek are first, carrying on about how the Blackhawks lost to the Ducks 2-1 in triple overtime.

'You stupid DVR! You stupid piece of no good trash! Curse you!' I thought, slamming my fist into my desk.

"You ok over there Halstead?" Ruzek laughed.

"Yeah, just peachy, I missed the whole game thanks to technology, also known as my DVR."

"Well that is not the only thing you missed. Did you check your phone? Voight and me both called and texted you multiple times." Questioned Antonio.

Dang it! I completely forgot about the missed calls last night, time to muster up the best lie I can think of right now.

"Yeah, Sorry about that, I just had to go and get some air, I was not feeling well. Must have been some Sushi I ate." Think he bought it? I think he did.

"Oh Man, that sucks! Well at least you are feeling better now!"

Yes! Score one for team Halstead, he totally bought that.

We were finishing up talking about the Hockey game when Olinsky showed, looking whiter than a ghost.

"Hey Al, you alright? You look like you have seen a ghost. Or worse, did Platt smile at you?" I joked.

"Huh? Oh yeah. No, everything is as sunny as Philadelphia. I'm fine." He grunted, going to his corner, color somewhat returning.

"Hey. Hey. Hey. Look whose back!" Ruzek cheered looking at the stair case.

"Atwater! Glad they took the training wheels off once again. How did it feel to be back in uniform?" Dawson joked.

"Well, it was defiantly a reminder of just how much I love y'all up here. I love walking the beat, don't get me wrong, but this, this is so much more fun." He stated proudly, giving manly hugs all around.

"Glad you are back brother."

We all took our respective seats and started to get caught up on paperwork. It is a quarter till eleven and my partner in crime has yet to show, surprise-surprise. And even Voight has not come into the office yet, which means that we have a case, which also means there goes all my Memorial Day Weekend plans…

It was half past two when Voight finally showed. He walked into his office and slammed the door shut behind him. 'Not Good.' Was the mutual look we all shared. Rule number two of Intelligence, never, ever, ever, EVER, get on Hank Voights bad side. It has consequences. We continued about the day without the girl that is supposed to be across from me. 'Personal day it is.' I check off mentally in my head, as this is one of few. I continue running this profile through NCIC when Voight steps out of his office and walks to the middle of the bullpen, gaining all of our attention immediately.

He clears his throat and looks around the bullpen, nervously playing with his hands.

"At Eleven o'clock this morning…" he takes a second.

"At Eleven o'clock this morning, I had a personal meeting in a business on the corner of 56th and Weston…"

Crap. 56th and Weston? That is the bar that Bunny runs.

"…where I was informed of Detective Erin Lindsay's resignation from Intelligence and the city of Chicago."

"WHAT?!" I immediately react, standing to my feet, my chair hitting the floor.

"She handed me her gun and badge, where Bunny and Lindsay then proceeded to kick me out." Voight stated shrugging his shoulders, unable to make sense of the events himself. "So until we can make sense of any of this Burgess is temporarily being re-assigned to Intelligence. Atwater you and Burgess will be paired. Halstead, you are with me." And with that Voight walked back into his office.

What does he mean she quit? What does Bunny want with her? Voight worked so hard and got her clean, and stable. And she just throws it all away? I walk to the Sergeants office, shutting the door behind me.

"Voight, what's going on?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, Halstead."

"Why would she throw everything she has worked for away? For her mother of all people?"

"Bunny has this personality about her, which makes her think she is doing the right thing, when we both know she is not. In all honesty, Bunny is psychotic, with multiple personalities, I have seen them, so has Erin but she has dug herself in this hole to her past…" he stopped.

"I know, I seen it last night too… You know at first I think this was about her blaming herself about Nadias death, but then something happened, it's like something from her past came up and swallowed her whole at the most vulnerable time. And now she has dug this hole, so deep that when she is ready find her way back out, the ladder will be gone, you and I won't be there to save her." I put it out in the open. I could not figure out what I wanted to say, so I just spoke what was on my mind. "Let me go and find her." I ask.

"That is why I partnered you with me, Halstead. Go, you know her. " He confirmed.

I quickly stand-up.

"Jay, we have got it under control here. Take as many days as need, I will sign off on it. Just make sure she comes home. Just make sure she comes home in one piece. I will have a place ready for her when you both return."

I quickly shake his hand and practically fly out of his office door. I run to my desk grabbing my things, pretty sure I heard papers flying off the other Detectives desks as I went out, and down the stair case running. I wish I could be her knight in shining Kevlar, but it seems as though the damsel in distress, has closed herself off.

"Hi, you have reach the voicemail of Detective Erin Lindsay, please leave your name and number and I will return your call."

Voicemail. Ughh! Maybe she is ignoring my calls. I quickly pullover to the side of the road and pull out my personal cell.

I press the number two key for speed-dial. E. Lindsay. Call. "You have reached Erin Lindsay, I cannot…" Ok. So scratch that, time for back-up plan B.

It rings twice. "Well look who decides NOT to ignore their Best Friend today! That would be you, Jay Halstead. Thanks by the way for ign—"

"Mouse, just… I will explain later, I need a favor. Can you turn on Lindsay's phone or like tell me where it is or something? Please?"

"Well it will cost you… but since you asked nicely fine." The whiz tech agreed.

"Awesome. Just text me the coordinates. Oh! And do it for her personal and work phones please. Could you also do something so it sends me a text every time her phones move? No questions asked."

"10-4 my good man."

Three minutes later I received a text with the coordinates, I quickly punched them into the GPS. Ok, so her work phone is at home… Personal is in Lakeview. Ok so she is still at Bunny's Bar. I am close to her house so that gives me enough time to run to her place and dispose of the narcotics, and Mouse will give me an update on when she's on the move. I can do this.

I make my way to her apartment on the sixth floor, and use the spare key she gave me, making my way into the gloomy apartment. I quickly scan the room and see that it is cleaner than last night, only assuming thanks to the crime scene clean-up crew. Now. If I was drugs where would I be… I start in the kitchen, no luck on drugs, but I found a plenty of alcohol, pouring it all down the drain. Next I make my way towards the bathroom. I know the layout of her apartment like the back of my hand from when we dated. I search the bathroom and come across a baggie of oxycodone. Flush. Making my next stop the bedroom, which the drugs was pretty easy to find because the baggie of white powder was sitting on the nightstand. I was making my way to flush it, when my phone got a notification. She is leaving the bar, which means she will be here, in about fifteen minutes give or take. I quickly flush the cocaine, and do a quick search to make sure I got all of it. Check. I reassure myself that everything is back in its original place and I make out of her apartment and down to my car, waiting for her to return. And sure enough she shows up ten minutes later. She's alone. I watch in my rear-view mirror as she exits her car and makes her way into her building. I drive away, knowing that she did not see me.

As I walk into my apartment, repeating some of the same steps as I do every night. Remove my Shoes. Plug up my iPhone. I grab me a cold slice of three day old pizza out of the fridge and make my way towards my bedroom. I quickly undress and re-dress into the sweats I threw into the corner this morning. And I fall into bed, hoping slumber comes soon.

Today was not like any other day.

My mind cannot help but wonder.

Tonight I lay here and reminisce.

Tonight I worry.

Tonight you should be in my arms.

Tonight is going to be a sleepless night.

Continue? Yes? No? Maybe So? Please let me know :)