Chapter two here we go! Thank you to every single beautiful person out there who reviewed and favourited, I greatly appreciate it!

I actually love getting detailed reviews where you guys really take in the story, giving your thoughts on what I've written. So please, don't hesitate to do that!

Bubbly88Tay - This is actually really interesting, as I never really considered another side to this scenario other than the one I wrote. In relation to the story, that decision was a must as it put Lindsay and Halstead in the hostage situation. But in my mind, what you said about the reflex was spot on - Even if the guy had died instantly, at the sound of Lindsay's firing he would've hit his own trigger and shot Jay too within a millisecond. One of my biggest aims in writing is to try and get the characters as accurate as possible, so I hope Lindsay not shooting wasn't too OOC? Regardless, we all know Erin is a badass and probably would've taken the shot - I just wanted to try and subtly convey a sense of fear that Jay's life was at risk. Thank you so much for telling me what you thought!

Disclaimer: I wish it was, but unfortunately Chicago PD is not mine.

Onto the chapter!


Both Erin and Jay were shoved harshly into the wall, their bodies frisked for weapons and their kevlar stripped. Unfortunately for Lindsay, she got the larger guy who was clearly taking advantage of the situation.

Her face was pressed sideways against the thick brick walls while she was patted down, huge paws lingering on certain areas of her body. After the groping was made fairly excessive, Erin relinquished a long, overdue, snarky comment.

"You always feel up a cop when you hold her hostage, or am I special?" Erin forced herself not to flinch as he dug hard fingers into her arm and spun her round with her back against the wall as his gun was now raised ready to reprimand her for speaking out. But before she could, the 'leader' at the opposite side of the room grunted something at him, followed by a command in Spanish. Erin was oblivious to the meaning, but a sly smile creeping upon her aggressor's face told her it wasn't going to be pleasant.

Another second passed before Jay, stripped of his vest and full kevlar was pushed into the middle of the room and knocked to the ground with a knee to the chest before he could even take in what was happening.

"Hey!" Erin barked immediately, confused as to why her partner was facing multiple blows to the ribs for her words. Jay fought back quickly, whipped out a foot to knock his guy to the ground while he reached his feet. Again, he was too slow for the fist flying into his face at rapid speed. Erin watched a spitful of blood fly from the corner of his mouth and splatter on the floor next to him.

"Apologise." The lifeless eyes of the man pressing his arms against her body burned into hers. Apologising was the furthest thing from her mind. But as Jay groaned from across the room, again spitting blood from his mouth, even shutting her eyes couldn't block out the sight. She knew her partner; knew how his brain was wired. There's no way he would've wanted her to give these scum any sort of a sorry.

"Go to hell." She said. She felt her lip curl then heard another groan escape her partner's lips. It was more strangled. As the kicks became more frequent, Erin felt her heart beating faster in her chest. She was praying that he didn't have anything broken. She finally looked up at him, watching with disdain as he rolled onto his side. He was holding back a scream of pain, she could see it in his face.

Three more seconds passed. Then four. Along with three more solid blows to Jay's abdomen. "Alright, stop. Stop!" The two men stepped away from Halstead, smug smiles painted across their faces. Erin felt sick. But she had to play this smart. So she gritted her teeth, tensed her jaw and put on her game face. "I apologise." Words meant nothing, not compared to the look she was giving the creep in front of her. But he seemed satisfied enough.

It took a few seconds for Jay to get to his feet, and when he did, Erin didn't dare to look at him. Guilt swallowed her insides. Instead, she looked up to the door, where she momentarily planned how difficult it would be for herself and her partner to take out the three douchebags and make a getaway. Half a second later into her not-so-in-depth-plotting, another large guy was hauling two chairs in. And Erin guessed they weren't all gonna play music chairs.

Rather than watch her partner get more bloodied and bruised, Erin shut her mouth as a hand wrapped around her arm and dragged her to the middle of the dingy room and pushed her into one of the chairs. Jay's was pressed against the back of her's, and he was forced into his soon enough. A coarse rope encircled their hands separately, and the four guys around them all engaged in light Spanish.

Both the detective's ankles were wound round the wooden legs of the chairs and Erin felt fixed in place. While Jay was being strapped into place, she finally took in the room, her mind open for escape routes.

There was nothing. A dusty window was thick and clouded with grime. There was one door in, and it was the only door out. The walls were thick too; firm slabs of concrete where their cries couldn't be heard and there blood could easily be smeared.

The main guy stepped forward, who Erin had mentally nicknamed 'Moustache', deriving from the thick, handle-bar facial hair growing messily on his mess of a face, still holding a gun in either hand. "Try anything funny, and I'll kill you both where you stand."

Jay thought of correcting his word choice, considering he and Erin were held firmly in place sitting down. But he wasn't stupid, and had a blind suspicion that anything he said would have a physical consequence on Erin. So he held his tongue, and did nothing but send daggers with his harsh glare to each of the men who left, and held his stare to the one who stayed to guard the door.

None of this made sense to him. They had anticipated their arrival, and now they were holding them hostage. He reeled the possibilities in his head and drew a blank, completely confused as to why two detectives had been thrust and tied to a dingy old room. Money wasn't an issue; Sanchez was running one hell of a drug cartel with dollars rolling in like a daily avalanche. There was maybe a personal vendetta against the Chicago Police Department, Jay had seen a few of those, but it didn't seem precise enough for that. Jay was still considering possibility after possibility while he felt Erin tugging on her hands thrown behind her back.

A second later, Moustache leaned forward and smacked the side of his gun across Erin's face. It wasn't a full blow, and she didn't cry out in agony. She did moan however, and instantly tasted blood from the inside of her mouth. It was a warning; a reminder that if she made a snarky comment again, she and Jay would get a lot worse.

"Hey!" Erin heard Jay shout, as though it would do any good. With a snarl she spat a mouthful of blood out next to her, and tried to hold back vomit as a sleezy hand gripped her chin and held her focus.

He spoke past Lindsay and to Jay, which if possible, only infuriated her more. "You wanna keep your girlfriend in line, my friend."

It took every single ounce of willpower for Erin to keep her mouth shut, which she somehow managed to do, even as the guy twirled his gun and made his way out the room with a painted smirk.

A few seconds after the scum-bag left, Erin felt the comforting voice of her partner. "Are you okay?"

"Fine." God, she hated that. He'd just been handed bruise after bruise because of her, and dismissed it as nothing. Yet after she had a single slap of metal to the cheek, his voice was thick with concern. He needed to stop being so... Jay-ish.

"Got any bright ideas?" She mumbled through gritted teeth when the guy standing just outside the door turned his back. And as Jay slid his tongue across his back teeth and scanned his mind for any conceivable way to untie the rope that bound them, he hoped to God that this wasn't a puzzle that he and Lindsay couldn't solve.


Thank you for reading!