Disclaimer: I do not own Chicago PD, Chicago Fire, or any song lyrics/quotes contained within. This fanfiction was written for entertainment purposes only, and as such, I am not making a profit (and have no intentions to go 50 Shades mainstream on you guys)

A/N: Thanks for continuing to follow this story through season breaks and through my (best case scenario) sporadic updates. I hope that you continue to do so and find the effort worth it. I know I'm just barely referencing season 2 in this fic, and that's mainly because I don't have the time to go back and watch the entire season, just bits and pieces when I have some spare time. Starting off with season three as it progresses is going to be easier. For the sake of "I wanted to", I'm making it like Mouse was hired on while Rachel was on family leave from the department. Just go with it ;)


"Tomorrow when I awaken, the slate will be clean, and a new day will stretch before me. God's mercies are new every morning." – Lori Hatcher

A new day, a new opportunity – that's what Hank had assured her as she had stepped into the house that had been her childhood home, once again under the wing of a man who swore his guidance and protection to someone who shared no more obligation with him than the mail man. Rachel had wanted to stay in the house, but after massive amount of persuasion both from Hank and Erin ("and eventually Jay too, that traitor. Good thing Erin married his goofy ass…", she caught herself thinking more than once), the decision was reached that the memories there would be too much for her right now, not when she had to make a valiant effort to stay clean for good. Until her house sold and she was back on steady ground, Hank had told her she'd stay with him – under the provision that she take weekly drug tests to prove that she didn't fall off the wagon again. Truth be told, the structure was what she needed, a schedule she could depend on until she could get her head on straight and find her own way.

Work was the first step to getting back to normal, she had argued – and had actually been successful. Having not been there for the three months since Jackson's passing had been rough on the rest of the team, placing the already stressed detectives under more weight and while they understood she needed time, they had all seemed somewhat relieved to see her walk back into the bullpen that morning. Diving in headfirst had actually been helpful, and for a very short while, Rachel felt normal again, felt like this were any other day and reminded her that what they were doing here very day was part of a much bigger picture. The normal feeling was, however, immediately followed up by an unexpected wave of guilt that, if she had access and knew she couldn't get in trouble, would have had her reaching for a syringe of her favorite junk. Instead, she went for the tech lab, knowing that it was mostly deserted and would spare her a few moments of privacy for her breakdown, finding a chair hidden behind the rows of files and computers before she completely lost it.

"Hey...uh...you, uh...you okay?"

Hearing a timid voice, Rachel peaked up to see a man standing before her, nervously shifting his weight from foot to foot as if he weren't sure what to say or do to console the crying woman before him. She began wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, very much glad that she hadn't bothered with any sort of makeup before leaving the house that morning.

"Yeah, I'm good. Sorry about all of this.", she tried to joke off with a laugh, gesturing to her momentary lapse in steadfastness. "Just been a rough day is all, needed a quiet place to lose my shit."

Seeming much more grateful that she had calmed down on her own, the fidgety man's stance loosened up and he moved further into the light where they could actually see one another. He didn't strike a chord with Rachel, and she figured it must be the guy Voight had mentioned taking on after Jin's murder. Ruzek and Atwater had been doing more harm than good to anything tech related in their card, so Voight had been forced to look for outside help – a search that ended when Halstead dropped a former informant (and fellow soldier) into his lap.

"I'm just making the best first impression, aren't I?", she chuckled, straightening herself into something resembling a functioning adult who hadn't just been crying by herself in a dark corner. With a slight smile, she extended her hand towards him, relieved that he didn't seem scared off by her.

"Rachel Clarke. I'm with Intelligence upstairs."

"Yeah, I...uh...I'm...uh..."

Reaching out, Rachel placed a hand over his mouth for a moment, effectively silencing him.

"The stammering thing is endearing and all, but if you don't stop, I'm not going to be able to understand a single word you're saying. Now take a breath and get a full sentence out."

Once he nodded, her hand fell back to her side and she could watch as he visibly took a deep breath in, held it for a moment and then exhaled, as if collecting his thoughts.

"Greg Gerwich, but everybody calls me Mouse. I'm the new tech guy, I guess. I heard about your kid, it's a really shitty situation, I'm sorry about all of that."

Over the past few months, she had gotten used to the sadness, to the looks of pity and despair that she had always gotten when people found out that her son (a young child, at that) had passed away, leaving her on her own. Most of it was fake, something for people to say so that they wouldn't feel as bad about going home to their idyllic cookie-cutter lives – but something about the man before her, something in his eyes spoke of his innocence, of the truth she could find within his words.

"I appreciate that, Mouse. It's...I'm working on getting back to normal.", she nodded in affirmation, a silent form of thanks for the peaceful offering from someone who knew neither she nor her child but was still willing to help if he could.

'I'm etting back to something – although normal...well, that's relative.'