It felt like a punch to the gut. The impact of Hank's words causing her to lean forward and clench the edge of her desk to steady herself. Everything blurred temporarily but she anchored herself to the cool wood and steel surface and took a slow breath. Pushing the wave of pain down the best she could Erin focused on Kim, her shaky voice updating them on the case. The bullpen suddenly felt too hot, too small and too full of emotion. The air was thick and heavy and she struggled to keep her breathing even.
Erin welcomed the escape offered when Hank sent her and Jay out. But steps from gaining her reprise from the grief and shock into denial her feet stopped, eyes falling on the board of injured victims. Lexie's sweet face called to her. She reached up, gently pulling the picture into her hands. This was all that was left now. Pictures, memories. Nineteen precious years. Too few. Lexie's eyes glimmered up at Erin, her smile genuine. Carefully Erin placed Lexie picture on the other board, offering up a silent homage for the beautiful girl.
/
They'd stopped by Al's house on the way home that night. Jay had shifted uncomfortable in his seat when Erin asked him to swing by but he hadn't protested out loud. She knew his emotions made him uncomfortable but it wouldn't be right if Erin didn't stop and check in on Meredith, the woman she'd considered her aunt since she was fifteen.
Erin knocked softly before letting herself and Jay in the kitchen door. As she suspected Meredith was seated at the kitchen table with her sister and another close girlfriend.
When her eyes met Erin's they began to water. "Oh, Erin, honey," she sobbed, rising to her feet and stepping into Erin's outstretched arms.
"I'm so sorry," Erin whispered with a choked voice. She held the older woman, absorbing as much of her grief as she could relieve her of, at least temporarily, Meredith's sobs shaking both of them. Erin clenched her teeth holding in as much of her own grief as she could. She was here to try and offer some comfort and support, there would be time for her own selfish pain later but right now she had to help this mother find a way to keep breathing through her heartache. Still she couldn't keep it all in, some silent tears tracking down her cheeks.
She tried to blink them away when Al walked in the room. The quiet confident man looked beaten and somehow a million years older tonight. Jay approached him with his hand extended and the two men hugged while clasping hands, Jay's awkward words of condolence and Al's dejected offer of appreciation muffling each other.
"What can I do? What do you need?" Erin asked Al over Meredith's shoulder.
He shook his head. What could anyone do really? There was nothing that would bring her back or make loosing her any less excruciating.
Erin's need to fix this somehow, to some how make some sense of this and restore some control to her spiralling world went without remedy. Meredith began to take shaky gulps as she composed herself and lifted her head.
"I'm sorry sweetie," she offered, embarrassed at her emotional display.
"No, it's why I came," Erin reassured her. "Whatever you need," Erin began again.
Meredith squeezed her hands. "She adored you, looked up to you and you always watched out for her. Thank you for that," she said cupping Erin's cheek.
Erin's throats closed with the grief that wouldn't release making it difficult to swallow. She didn't need thanking. Didn't want it. She wanted Lexie here, she wanted her family to stop loosing its best parts, wanted to stop burying the people Hank had thrust into her life when he brought her home the night she begged him to help her get out. Nights like tonight she wished she'd never experienced what family was, what real love felt like. She wished she could return to the emptiness and numbness she drowned herself in daily before Hank saved her. She silently cursed Hank. He'd done this. He'd taught her to feel, to care. He'd made her want to be a part of something bigger than herself. And where had it got her? What had it given her but loss and regret and pain.
Stop it. This isn't about you, she berated herself, pulling her thoughts back from their irrational spiral. A chill ran up her spine at how much like her mother her internal dialogue sounded. She pushed the thought away and focused back on Meredith.
Meredith pulled Erin down to sit at the table and, despite Erin's polite refusal, busied herself making Erin a cup of tea. The habitual hospitality seemed to give Meredith some relief from her grief if only momentarily so Erin took the cup and sipped the luke warm liquid, doing her part to help the illusion of normality.
Jay and Al had disappeared moments ago, no doubt to the garage for a stiff drink and some awkward silence that she knew Al was much more comfortable in then trying to comfort the mother of his dead child. Because how did you do that? What peace could he offer her? Her grief only served to amplify his own while reminding him just how powerless he was to protect and comfort those he loved.
An hour later Jay and Erin quietly exited, assuring both Meredith and Al that they, that the whole team in fact, was here to support them with whatever they needed.
They shuffled into their apartment in silence. Erin shed her coat and boots absentmindedly and followed Jay down the hall. He turned into the kitchen and grabbed two beers out of the fridge, offering one up to her. Erin hesitated. God how nice it would be to numb herself from all of this. But Erin shook her head no. She couldn't drink. Not tonight. Grief and alcohol were a toxic mix for her. If she ran from this tonight she wasn't sure she would be able to resist running again tomorrow and the next day and the next. She could feel the dark hole rising up for her. She took a step back from it and the beer in Jay's hand. She would not let her mother's voice win. Not tonight.
"I'm gonna go change," she mumbled tiredly, turning towards the bedroom.
Jays shoulders slumped at her retreat. He'd been surprised but not disappointed she'd refused the alcohol balm. Jay twisted the cap off his bottle, tossed it in the sink and took a long gulp of cold liquid. He welcomed the burning down his throat as he leaned back against the counter, not missing the irony in his drinking instead of Erin. He stood staring at a spot on the opposite wall until Erin emerged from their bedroom clad in her warmest comfy pyjamas.
Jay put down his now empty beer bottle, pushed off the counter and met her in front of the couch.
She smiled up at him as he reached out to stroke her arm. "Can I get you anything? You feel like eating something yet?" Jay offered.
Erin shook her head. "Only thing I need is my boyfriend's arms wrapped round me," she offered with shy honesty.
The raw venerability in her statement disarmed Jay and he pulled her close, snuggling her head under his chin for a moment before pulling her down next to him on the couch and covering them with a blanket. Erin cocooned into his side and they sat in the semi dark silence for awhile, processing the last couple of days.
"I use to babysit her," Erin offered after awhile. Jay tilted his head down to look at her while she spoke. "Al, Meredith, Hank and Camille they'd go out about once a month or so you know. And I'd watch them, Justin and Lexie, well, after Hank trusted I had my shit together. She loved it when I'd turn the music up loud, we'd dance around all crazy, laughing. She had the best laugh." Erin smiled sadly, the tears returning to fill her eyes. Then a laugh tumbled out of her involuntarily. "Justin," she said through sad strangled giggles. "He was such a little shit. He'd tease her so bad. Chase her all over the house chanting stupid rhymes about her name. I swear I wanted to tie him to a chair and duct tape his mouth shut some days." Her expression changed and sadness clouded her eyes again. "And now they're both gone," she whispered.
She couldn't get her head to except this. She still expected Justin to turn up unannounced with his cocky smirk any day now. It didn't matter that she's stood at Hank's side and watch them lower his body into the ground. It didn't matter that she'd kissed his forehead and said good bye while he lay in the hospital, nothing but machines keeping him alive. An imagine of Al and Meredith sitting with Lexie when they disconnected her machines overwhelmed Erin. Soon she'd be watching them lower another member of her family into the ground. She had no idea how either of them was still upright. Erin shook her head trying to rid herself of the grief swelling up, threatening to consume her.
Jay rubbed soft circles on her back. "It's okay Erin. You don't have to hold it in it right now," he encouraged her gently. But the dam wasn't ready to break, not just yet. There was one more person she needed to care for tonight.
"How are you doing, you've been so quiet," she asked, placing her hand on his chest.
Jay kissed the top of her head. How was he? He didn't know how to answer that but he knew his girl. She wouldn't give in to her own feelings until she'd cared for everyone else. He was upset of course, how could he not be? Lexie was a sweet girl and part of their family. Her death and the death of all those other kids was completely senseless. He respected and admired Al and had learned a lot from the man these past four years. Jay felt helpless to ease some of Al's pain. He didn't know what to say or do. Jay felt his heart being ripped out of his chest when Al asked him to thank Will. Thank him. How was Al so calm, so appreciative? If it had been Jay he'd probably want to lash out at Will for not being God and saving his daughter. He'd been slightly in awe of Al.
Going to Al's house had been so difficult for Jay. It reminded him of visiting the wives of soldiers he'd lost but so much worse. Seeing Meredith grieve for her child was the kind of gut wrenching image he was sure a whole bottle of whisky couldn't erase from his head. He'd wanted to protest going but he knew it's what Erin needed and no way in hell was he not going to be there for her. Al had quietly ushered Jay to the garage and his relief at escaping the house was short lived when heavy silence fell between the men. Jay again felt helpless, having no idea how to convey his sympathy or say or do anything useful.
It was once again Al who broke the silence. "Make sure the people you love know you love them," Al had said gruffly staring off across the room. "Because you just never know," he'd trailed off, throwing his whiskey back in one gulp. They made eye contact briefly and Jay nodded, words still not co operating with him.
"Jay?" Erin asked lifting herself up to look at him. Jay shook himself out of his thoughts remembering Erin was waiting on him for an answer.
"I'm okay, same as everyone I guess. Just wishing I could bring her back for them and you," he stroked her hair. His girl had been through so much the last months. Loosing Justin, the fallout of that affecting her relationship with Hank, her mother's cruel paternity scheme and now Lexie. "Mostly I'm worried about you," he admitted.
"I know. I'm sorry for that, sorry for all the drama all the time," her voice laced with regret and exhaustion.
"Don't be. I'm where I want to be," he said confidently.
"Me too," her smile was tempered by the weight of the day's events but Jay knew she was telling the truth. She hadn't pulled from him like she used to when things got to much for her. That simple fact spoke volumes about where her head was at and where he stood in her life. It wasn't hard to be here for her when she willingly came to him.
She snuggled back into him and they settled back into silence. Her tears didn't seem to want to come tonight but that was okay. They would eventually and Jay would wipe them away when they did.