A/N: Thank you so much for all the lovely reviews! I'm so glad you guys are enjoying this. Keep them coming and I'll keep the chapters coming!

This guest stars one of my fave cops from a non-CPD show, anyone who watches it will definitely recognize him ;)

Voight didn't say much the entire ride. Jay had questions. Like who this partner they were going to see was, and how he could possibly help them. But he remained quiet, letting the sergeant take the wheel while he stared through the window, getting distracted by the cars passing them by.

He could feel himself going numb, pushing the mess of emotions to the back of his head, trying to focus on the task at hand. Trying to silence the giant clock inside his head—the one reminding him how the odds of finding her dropped with every minute she was missing. He hated knowing these things. He imagined it would be easier if he didn't have to read all those statistics for the Academy. If he didn't know how bad things were looking by now, when they had

"I know how you feel." And Jay knew that if anyone knew how he felt right now, it was Hank Voight. The only man who loved Erin as much as he did. "You can't fall apart. You have to keep it together. For her."

"You think I don't know that?" The words came out harsher than he intended, but Voight didn't even flinch at his tone.

"We work the case, Halstead. Step by step until we find her." Jay nodded, but saying it was one thing. Doing it was another. Yet still, when he climbed out of the car at their destination, his hands were shaking slightly less and he was just a tiny bit calmer.

He just hoped it wasn't the calm before the storm.

"Detective Reagan," Voight greeted the younger man about Jay's age. It seemed he knew him, which would make sense, Jay thought, if Reagan was Erin's former partner, they probably would have met in the past. In another world, Jay would have felt a ping of resentment for how good-looking or successful her ex-partner was, but now the only thing he resented the man was having the knowledge to find Erin. Something he didn't have.

"Jamie. So it's true then?" Jay and Hank nodded at the same time, filling him in on the details. "I remember this guy," he continued. "He was one of those cases that just stay with you for months after. He was a primary suspect in the series of homicides a decade ago, but then he went under for two or three years when he almost got caught. Then resurfaced, and killed 23 more women before we got him."

"Do you think it's him?"

"From what you've told me, his MO fits to the dot. Look, I can arrange for all the files we have to be sent to your precinct. And if you have any questions, I'll be more than happy to help. Other than Lindsay, I'm the one who knows this case the best. We spent eight months chasing this bastard, and then some rookie mishandled the evidence…" He let out a grunt of frustration, and Jay could easily identify with it.

"Thanks, we appreciate it. At least we know what we're dealing with."

Jay agreed. Knowing who they were dealing with helped tremendously. He allowed himself a flicker of hope, hoping it wouldn't get crushed.

"Alright, I want everything there is to know about this guy. Who he hung out with in prison, where he's been for the past month, what he's been up to. I want to know the colour of his underwear! You got me?" Voight started barking out orders the second they returned to the precinct.

"Copy, boss." They guys got to work, and the bullpen was soon filled with telephone calls, and sounds of actively used keyboards. Neither of them even thought of going home that night—all of them so hopeful after having a lead.

At some point, they ordered food, even though Jay thought it was a waste of precious time. But he did have to admit he felt less dizzy after two slices of pizza Voight forced him to eat, reminding him that he won't be much help if he collapsed from not eating. Reluctant, Jay had to admit his boss was right, and even though his stomach still didn't feel right, he made himself eat some.

He dived in head first into work, checking lead after lead methodically. Hours later, when nothing turned up, he felt the seeping desperation creep into his bones. The thought that he hadn't allowed to have until then became very clearly present now—that there was a possibility that they wouldn't find her. Or at least not in time. And Jay just knew he wouldn't be able to live on if that happened.

When she next came to, Erin was alone. She managed enough strength to prop herself up on the elbows, wincing from the excruciating pain that shot through her head. But despite the pain, her head felt a bit clearer now.

A fresh vision of Jay flashed in her mind. He must be so worried, she thought. Going out of his mind, trying to find her. And if anyone could, it was her trusty partner. But the fact it took Jamie and her eight whole months to find him, made her aware of one very painful truth. That maybe he won't find her in time.

She dragged her body to the wall, leaning against it, so her head could rest on the cold surface. Despite the freezing temperature of the room, she was drenched in sweat, which meant whatever drugs he gave her were starting to leave her body. The growling in her stomach reminded her of one thing. She was also starving.

Would they have found her car by now? And her gun? Did they know who they were searching for yet? Erin had full faith in her unit, but they were just people.

"Ah, you're awake. Good, it's time for lunch. Or is it dinner?" Erin knew that messing with the heads of his victims was his specialty, and she'd be damned if she was going to let that happen. He set a plate in front of her in an oddly calm manner. Her eyes instead flickered to the door he came in to. It was big and heavy and there was no way she could've taken it down, not even at her full strength, and much less drugged and beaten. She did notice that he never locked the door behind him when he came in, and stored that information for future reference.

"Don't worry, it's not poisoned. When I kill you, you'll know it," he said, probably reading the untrusting look in her eyes. So she ate, hating herself for every single bite, but if she was going to get out of here, she would need all the strength she could get. And starving to death was not how Erin Lindsay would go.

It was fighting till the very end.

Jay desperately needed some air, so he walked out of the bullpen, his desk filled with hundreds of empty leads. The night air hit his face, but still all he could see was her face.

He felt hot tears gather in his eyes, and he didn't bother holding them back anymore. Here, far from the prying eyes of the rest of the unit, he let himself feel every ounce of desperation. Kicking the wall, he let out a frustrated shout.

"Halstead?" It was too late, and he couldn't contain the sobs, even for the sake of Antonio, who eyed him with worry. His hand landed on his shoulder, steadying his shaking body.

"I just—I—I can't—"

"I know."

"She's out there—I can't—" He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. All he could hear was his heart, pounding in his head. It felt like dying.

"Listen, man. Breathe. You're having a panic attack." Jay knew that. He used to have one or two every day when he came back from overseas, but when they stopped, they stopped and he hasn't had one in years. Not that he could ever forget how they felt like.

They stood there, Antonio's hand on Jay's back, until his breathing normalized and he was no longer hyperventilating. Jay couldn't even look at him, embarrassed of the breakdown his friend just witnessed, but he convinced himself that this was Antonio. He was family.

And family didn't care how you fell apart. Family only cared about how to pick you back up.

"Halstead, go home, get some rest. You're no good to anyone like this." It's been two days and a half since Lindsay had gone missing. That was not what Jay expected to hear, when the sergeant called him into his office. He shook his head defiantly.

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Don't make me kick you out." The tone in his voice let no room for interpretation. He was serious about this, and Jay felt he didn't have the energy to fight him on it, so he told him the truth.

"I can't—I can't go back to—to the apartment." She'd be in every single room, in every single thing. There was no way he could sleep there, in a bed that still smelled of her. Not when he could still see her so clearly.

Voight looked surprised, like he hadn't thought about it. Like he just realized that he too, would soon have to go back to the house where he watched Erin grow up in.

"There is a couch in the break room. Use that, at least," he suggested an alternative. He knew it wouldn't be a full replacement for a bed and a shower, but Jay looked like he was going to collapse any minute now, and that was the last thing he needed.

Jay nodded with a grateful look. He knew Voight didn't like them sleeping here, even though they'd occasionally nap on that couch. He also knew he'd have to go back at some point, but he just wasn't ready to deal with how empty the apartment would be without her. He'd taken a half hour nap in the car the day before, but he knew it was not enough. He already felt on edge.

The door to Voight's office creaked open after a knock and Burgess popped her head in. "Serge, we found something."

They both headed back to the bullpen. "Okay so first, I checked the security footage around here, and there is a car that happens to be in some of the shots, always following Lindsay. The car is registered to McKinley, so there is no doubt anymore that he has her."

Voight nodded. "Got anything else?"

"There is a guy who McKinley supposedly trained to be his right hand. James Masters. Apparently, they did time together, and Masters got paroled last week."

"You got an address?"

Kim nodded. "I've already texted it to you. Should we gear up?"

Voight shook his head. "Negative. Halstead and I will check it out."

Jay's head snapped up. Apparently, the sergeant realized keeping him off this case would be next to impossible, so instead, he decided to keep him close where he can keep his eyes on him. Because Voight knew better than anyone that when they found Erin, and she realized he let Jay get himself killed, that would not fly well with her. And he'd be the one the blame would fall on.

Erin refused to fall asleep. She didn't know how much time she had left, and she desperately needed a plan, but she just didn't see any way out of there. There were no windows, just one very massive door. She had tried to open them to no avail, and he enjoyed her efforts, so she gave up.

"You're tougher than the rest," he taunted her. "They all cry. Eventually, you will too."

She would never give him that satisfaction, even though she was ready to let the tears fall by now, she held them back by the power of sheer stubbornness. And she could be extremely stubborn. She smiled at him instead.

"That's not gonna happen. You can break me into pieces, but you won't see me cry," she promised.

She wouldn't cry, she told herself over and over again, when his feet connected with her stomach, or when his hand pulled her hair back so hard she was surprised it didn't fall out, or when her head connected to the wall with so much force she was surprised it didn't split in half. As she drifted again she dreamt of the one thing that could give her hope.

Jay.

They found Masters right away. The house he lived in stood in the middle of nothing, and there were no lights on. They knocked, and he opened, but refused to let them in without a warrant. There was a look of sheer disbelief on Voight's face.

"We don't need a warrant when you're on parole," he explained, pushing past him. They searched the place top to bottom, even though they didn't really expect her to be there. McKinley was smarter than that.

Jay felt sick when he saw the expression of Masters' face. A creepy smile that appeared when he told them that he doesn't know anything about McKinley. Being a detective meant you got pretty good at spotting the lies, and what Jay saw was a guy lying his ass off, and being cocky about it.

"Why don't you wait in the car?" Voight asked, and Jay shook his head.

"Give me five minutes with him," he said with so much cold in his voice it surprised even Voight. He had started telling him that he doesn't have to do this, but the younger detective already pushed his gun into his hands. "Five minutes."

To Be Continued...