To Wish Impossible Things

Author: Kelon

Disclaimer: All characters belong to their rightful owners… none of which are me. I simply borrow them for my entertainment.

Summary: When Jay is accused of murder, will Erin have her partner's back and believe in his innocence?

Rating: T to M for cursing, violence and non-graphic romance.

Dedicated to two wonderful ladies: To my one true love, Angela – you make me want to be a better person every singly day. And to Sophia Bush. You inspire me to step out of my comfort zone and dare to try something for charity that seems impossible to do.

Author's notes: This story was inspired by obsessively watching the preview trailer for episode 10. The scene where Jay is leaving (the station, I think) and Erin comes running after him, grabs his arm to turn him around and talk to him, and the looks they exchange at the end of that conversation got me thinking – will Erin have her partner's back and believe his innocence? Or will she have doubts? I'm not sure where I am going to take this, but I really felt like putting it down on paper. I greatly welcome any and all feedback. Please review!

Italics denotes thoughts.

Chapter 1

District 21 Police Department, Chicago, Illinois
15 January, 2014 - 18:52 CST

This can't be happening, Jay thought as he was looking into Voight's face, the words that were spoken just moments ago still ringing in his ears. The entire Intelligence Unit was staring at them and you could hear a pin drop in the room at that moment. Jay slowly started shaking his head, wanting to tell him that this was wrong, but he was too shocked to articulate the words.

"I'll say it one more time," Voight said, his voice louder than the last time, holding out his hand and taking a step towards Jay. "Give me your badge and your gun, Halstead."

Wordlessly, Jay pulled out the requested items and dropped them into Voight's waiting hand. Turning around, he avoided eye contact with any of his colleagues as he quickly walked towards the exit.

As the scene played out in front of her very eyes, Erin Lindsay felt as if the air was being sucked out of the room, out of her lungs. She was confused, distraught by the shocking accusation that her partner was the prime suspect of a murder investigation. This can't be real. He would never do that. She watched him intently from where she stood frozen in place. Say something, Jay, she wanted to urge him. Say it's not true. Get into Voight's face and tell him he is full of it! She didn't say it, though, and neither did Halstead.

She saw him wordlessly hand over his gun and badge, lower his gaze and turn around to swiftly walk out. She wanted him to look at her. She needed him to look at her, to look into his eyes and see for herself that the man who was her partner, the man who kept her thoughts pre-occupied when she was trying to fall asleep at night, did not do this horrible thing. But he didn't look up. He didn't look at her, or anyone else, before he exited.

The heavy silence that fell over the room was only disrupted by the loud bang of the door being thrown shut as Jay left. Erin flinched at the sound, and like a sprinter who heard the starting signal, her body started to take over and run after her partner.

Jay stood in silence for a moment after leaving the room, trying to control his breathing and gather his thoughts. It didn't feel real. What just happened didn't feel real. We are one unit. One team. We got each other's back. If anyone else would have been accused of something like this, I would have spoken up. But they didn't. They didn't speak up. They didn't have my back. Which means that they don't think I'm innocent. He shook his head and closed his eyes, trying to push back the tears. He took one deep breath and turned to continue getting out of here. He still had to walk out of the station, with everyone watching him. Judging him.

Before he reached the next door, he heard the door behind him being jerked open right before he was grabbed by the arm and spun around. Erin stood there, looking at him with wide eyes and a troubled look on her face. "Jay," she said in a low voice. She was still holding on to his arm and her eyes were searching his. "Tell me you didn't do this," she pleaded, her voice cracking under the emotional strain she was feeling.

He looked at her in disbelief. "You shouldn't have to ask me that, Lindsay," he said in an angry voice as he took a step back and pulled his arm from her so she had to let go of him. He glared at her for another moment before the tension left his shoulders as a feeling of defeat washed over him. He turned around and whispered, almost to himself, "If you knew me, you shouldn't have to ask me that at all." He started walking, not looking back at her and ignoring her calling his name.

A bar near Jay's home, Chicago, Illinois
15 January, 2014 - 21:31 CST

Jay sat at a corner table by himself, a half empty bottle of whiskey and a full shot glass in front of him. The bar was fairly empty, and sensing his terrible mood, the few patrons that recognized him as a local didn't bother him in his quest to get wasted and forget his pain. Tell me you didn't do this. Erin's words were echoing in his mind, each time breaking his heart a bit more. He lifted the shot glass and downed the brown liquid that, at least for a moment, provided a distraction from his emotions.

The jukebox began playing another song, and Jay recognized the tune, but not the title. It was a slow song with a haunting melody, and Jay couldn't help but listen to it intently.

Remember how it used to be
When the sun would fill the sky
Remember how we used to feel
Those days would never end
Those days would never end

As he listened to the lyrics, he thought of Erin. How they would always argue in the car about who got to drive, with him always losing the argument, then pretending to be offended when in fact he didn't care because just being with her in the car was enough.

Remember how it used to be
When the stars would fill the sky
Remember how we used to dream
Those nights would never end
Those nights would never end

Memories of evenings at Erin's apartment flooded his mind, when they would just hang out with a box of pizza, a few cold brews and a game on TV. Something so simple, yet something so meaningful to him.

It was the sweetness of your skin
It was the hope of all we might have been
That filled me with the hope to wish
Impossible things

He thought of the night they tried to go to Erin's high school reunion together. She looked so beautiful that evening, and even though he wasn't completely comfortable with the whole lying about being her fiancé thing, he couldn't help but remember how strangely good it felt to pretend for a moment that he was that important to her.

He almost could feel her touch when he recalled their conversation at the nearby bar they went to after they bailed out on the reunion. How she opened up to him and how he took her hand and made an unspoken pass at her. He wasn't upset that she said they couldn't. Because she left the door open for that to change in the future. And that hope was all he needed.

But now the sun shines cold
And all the sky is grey
The stars are dimmed by clouds and tears
And all I wish
Is gone away

But now everything is different, he thought solemnly. She doesn't trust me. She doesn't believe in me. And I was a fool to wish impossible things.

The song quoted is by The Cure. I don't own any rights to it or the group, either.