Title: More Than Meets the Eye

Author: Some1FoundMe

Rating: T

Summary: A series of post-ep missing scenes between Halstead and Lindsay. Begins with 3X11 "Knocked the Family Right Out" and will continue through season four. Spoilers up to the current episode 4X16 "Emotional Proximity" (will continue to change as episodes air)

A/N: For those of you who left comments, thank you so very much for the feedback. Hopefully this chapter makes up for the fact that the first chapter was just a little more in depth from Jay's POV rather than a post-ep. I'd really love to hear what you think!

Knocked the Family Right Out – Pt 2

He's nearly given up on her by the time the knock comes at his front door.

"Hey."

The smile on her face is forced, guarded, and he hopes that – as he holds the door open for her – she's here to talk. Her eyes fall to his bare chest, to the sweats hanging low on his hips, and the shift in her expression is miniscule. But he still sees it.

"How'd it go at the Cliffords'?"

Erin shuffles heavily to his couch and drops onto it, head falling back as a sigh escapes her.

"It was a relief, you know? Telling that little girl that we caught the bastard that did that to her… It was worth the trip."

He takes the seat beside her. She immediately moves closer. Her head drops to his shoulder and he wraps an arm around her. Her eyes still closed, she visibly slumps against him, their bodies pressed together from head to toe. She settles. Relaxes. And there's a flare of pride that swells in his chest at knowing that he can help her, that she's comfortable enough with him to let her guard down.

"I expected you a while ago."

She huffs softly.

"I know. I just – I- "

He turns and presses a kiss to her forehead.

"It's okay. I was just worried."

She doesn't apologize for worrying him. Inching closer, her small, cool hand slides across his chest until she's wrapped around him. He doesn't question her. Doesn't push. He knows better. He's experienced enough of his own trauma. Faces his own demons daily. This case affected her on a deeply personal level, the ones with the kids usually do, and he can't blame her. They'd all taken this one to heart because the animals disturbed enough to rape an innocent little girl deserved worse than jail time. At least Hanley's dead. The sick fuck. Between what he'd done to Carolyn Clifford and what he'd tried to do to Erin. Jay doesn't regret for a second pulling the trigger.

They go to bed with very little fanfare. He leads her into his bedroom and helps her out of her clothes, pulling one of his t-shirts over her head gently before brushing loose tendrils of hair from her face. He can't deny that he would love nothing more than to make love to her, to do what he can to chase away that last bit of tension that lingers in her frame, but that isn't why she's here. She burrows beneath the heavy blankets on his bed and he crawls in next to her. She's in his arms immediately with her face buried in his chest, her warm breath ghosting across his skin. Her exhaustion is evident in the way that sleep claims her almost immediately and it only take a few minutes for him to follow her under.

The sharp sting in his cheek wakes him abruptly. He blinks into the darkness for a moment, awareness slamming into him the moment he hears the soft whimpers from the woman beside him. He sits up quickly and angles himself so that he's leaning over her. He doesn't touch her right away, he doesn't want to startle her, and he keeps his weight off of her as much as possible. She's thrashing slightly, her head rolling on the pillow, her chest heaving. The nightmare that she's enveloped in doesn't want to let her go.

"Erin. Erin, come on, wake up. Babe, you're safe. It's alright. Wake up."

A distressed sound leaves her and he feels it like a knife to the chest. It's clear that she's terrified. That whatever images her mind has conjured in sleep are almost too horrible to bear and he can't sit by and watch her suffer any longer. He knows firsthand what kind of damage those nightmares will do to a person. He'd barely survived his own when he'd come home.

Carefully and with a steady hand, he pushes the strands of damp hair from her forehead. His fingers travel along her jaw and down her neck, gently, reverently, until he can wrap them around her shoulder. He shakes her, only a little, just a tiny movement, and calls her name again. She doesn't come out of it, not right away, but her thrashing slows, her body stills, and he knows that he's getting through to her. He squeezes her shoulder again, rubbing his thumbing soothingly along the dip in her collarbone. The changes in her breathing alleviate some of his worry. She's no longer panting, no longer gasping for breath, and even though it's still too rapid to be considered normal, it makes him feel better.

"Erin."

Her eyes blink open slowly, those golden brown eyes that convey so much, that look right through him most days, look up at him in confusion.

"What? Wh – what's wrong?"

Her voice is strained, a combination of sleep and the lingering remains of her nightmare, and he sighs. He wraps her in his arms, drawing her close, and rolls until he's on his back with her lithe body sprawled on top of him. She's tense, stiff, in his embrace for a long moment before she finally relaxes.

"You were dreaming."

It's Erin's turn to sigh. She burrows closer and he knows that she's trying to hide from the conversation but he isn't going to let her. In his first few months after deployment, when his own nightmares had been awful, talking about them had been the most difficult thing. And while he certainly hadn't thought so at the time, he knows now that, as difficult as it had been, it had actually helped him move on. Talking had helped him heal.

"Today wasn't the first time that I – that I've been in a situation like that."

Her confession doesn't surprise him as much as he thinks that it should. He knows a little about her past, about the kind of kid she'd been when Hank had taken her in. She'd done a lot of questionable things and she'd spent her time with some shady fucking people. He has no doubt that her life had been threatened before. Hell, he's seen it happen on the job more than once. But there's a pit in his stomach telling him that that isn't what she means. She isn't referring to Hanley's knife at her throat.

"I was fourteen. This guy that Bunny was dating he – he brought her drugs one weekend. They were both on a bender. Spent two days nearly unconscious on our couch. Well, Bunny did. Jack, he … he had bouts of lucidity. And he had it in his head that because I was there, I was free game. It was Sunday morning and I came out of the bathroom and he … he cornered me before I could get back to my room. He grabbed me, t-touched me. I fought as hard as I could to get away. Eventually in all of my screaming, my mom came to. She stopped him before anything could really happen, pulled a gun on him actually. I locked myself in my room after that. That was only a few weeks before Hank found me."

The rage that he feels isn't quite like anything that he's experienced before. He's been afraid for her, has worried like hell over her wellbeing and her state of mind, but this unbridled desire to hunt down this bastard and put a bullet between his eyes is new. He wonders if she's ever told this story to Voight. If she has, then Jack whatever-his-last-name-is, is most likely dead or in jail already.

"The nightmare? That's what it was about?"

She shrugs.

"I could've been that girl. I could've been Carolyn Clifford. I got lucky."

He shakes his head, thankful that she isn't looking at him, and wonders how in the world she can talk about her childhood like this. Voight and Camille taking her in was definitely the best thing that ever happened to her. Before that… before that he isn't sure how she survived. He isn't sure that he would have.

"If you ever need to talk about it, if a case ever hits too close to home for you, I'm here, Erin. You can talk to me."

She nods and he feels her breath ghost over his bare skin as she sighs again. He lifts his hand to her head, his fingers combing slowly through her hair. It doesn't take long for sleep to claim her again but this time he doesn't follow. Instead he finds himself staring up at the darkened ceiling of his bedroom saying a silent prayer to a god that he isn't sure he believes in, thanking him for the incredible woman in his arms.