Okay, you are probably going to kill me at some point, but I'm in one of those moods, so consider this your warning!

WARNING: Major Character Death! You have been warned!

Genre: Angst

Summary: Set around about (if there was to be) season 7.

Chapter 3: Supermarket Flowers - Ed Sheeran

"I took the supermarket flowers from the windowsill, threw the day old tea from the cup, packed up the photo album Matthew had made, memories of a life that's been loved."

A knock at the apartment door made the overly-exhausted detective jump a little on the couch across the room.

The apartment hadn't really been used for a few days as Jake had lived off crackers and small juice boxes. He hadn't actually gotten off the couch in three days, and when he had, it had been to get another juice box or to use the bathroom.

Jake slowly arose from the couch, allowing the blanket he had draped over him fall to the floor, half against the edge of the seat he was just on, half on the tissue-enveloped floor. Grudgingly, he opened the apartment door to see Ray Holt on the other side.

Holt saw Jake as a little bit of a mess. His hair looked tangled and as if it was pleading to be washed, a ripe odor coming from his clothes that said that a wash hadn't come in a while. His nose was red and appeared as though it was throbbing subtly, his eyes puffy and swollen. To someone, it may look as if he was home with the flu, wearing pajamas and tissues visible from the apartment doorway. But to Holt, he was hurting, badly.

"Oh, Jacob," Holt sighed, looking over at the lost man in front of him. Jake was there, but right now, it was only a shell, only a coating, he had completely lost his humorous side, his old, desperate need to make a sex joke at any opportunity he was given and usually get Amy involved was gone. Oh, how he longed for that back. "How are you today?"

Jake only managed shrugged shoulders as a response. Doing anything else wasn't on the agenda for the day. All there was, a small mental note saying "It could have been you instead. It should have been you instead."

"May I come in?" Holt kindly offered Jake a small smile. It wasn't much, but it was enough to make Jake return that smile in his mind. On the outside though, it was a slide out of the way, allowing the captain through.

Holt stepped through the doorway and looked around the messy apartment. The floor by the couch now unable to see, with a giant mount of tissues piled up on the carpet. There were a few odd empty cracker wrappers and empty juice boxes that had been tossed on the coffee table or thrown behind the couch. He wanted to be disgusted, but he knew in his heart how hard this was for him. This very apartment once only belonged to Amy Santiago, and then after finally getting together, winning a bet with fugitives, and having spent six-months apart, Jake moved in with her, making the apartment theirs. It was now only Jake's.

Jake flopped down on the couch, pulling the blanket over his shoulders again.

After knowing the detective seven-years, Holt had never seen him like this. Sure, Florida came close, but at least Jake had just the right amount of hope that he'd be going home to Brooklyn any day that he was able to get out of bed and get dressed, after the first few months anyway. But this time? He was still wearing the same pajamas he was three days ago, and it didn't click anywhere that he had changed or washed those clothes at all since.

Amy had insisted on Jake staying home to fully recover from the major food poisoning he had received from eating meat supreme at display temperature, and see if he could keep any food down. So during that day, he watched the Die Hard's, his comfort movie, on his computer as he slowly snacked on sour gummies in an attempt to keep them down. That was until later that night. He got the phone call at 5:17, and after having been told what had happened, he dashed out of the apartment without changing or grabbing a jacket. He drove like a madman to the hospital with his police siren blasting out. There, his whole life crumbled inwards on him, crushing him like a brick wall, and that his earlier attempt in eating turned out to be a bad idea as he couldn't help himself from throwing up.

"Peralta, please say something," Ray sighed, sitting down on the couch next to Jake. "I miss your voice."

Jake gulped, his throat dry and scratchy from the inside, whilst the aftertaste of the vomit from earlier that morning was still present. "What if it was Kevin and Cheddar in that car instead?" He asked, looking his boss dead in the eye.

Raymond could only stammer. When he asked Jake to talk, he didn't think it would be anything like that. "Wher-Where is this co-coming from, Peralta?" He wondered, arching his eyebrow.

"You consider," He stopped for a moment to hitch back a whimper. Not again, Peralta! He stubbornly told himself. He continued, "Cheddar as your child, as you call him baby all the time... and Kevin is obviously you partner- the love of your life- your soulmate." Holt again didn't appear to understand. "What if Kevin took Cheddar to the vet and was in that car at that exact moment? What would you do now?"

"Jake, are you okay? Where are you going with this?" Holt didn't answer the detective's past question and instead asked his own.

"My wife was in that damn car, that one that got her killed," His voice started stern and authoritative before becoming a cry. "If she had let me go with her that day, it would have been me instead, and not her, cause there wouldn't have been an excuse in the world that would have convinced me to let her drive. She'd still be here, never alone-"

Holt cut him off short. "You are not alone, Jacob, the whole nine-nine is here for you, the squad is here and will help you out."

"Yeah, but someday, you would all have other things to do." He wiped the entire of his face with the palm of his hands. "You see, Captain, I'm alone now. Even with the Nine-Nine, I'm still alone. But Amy? If she was patient, she wouldn't have been alone again."

"What do you mean?" Ray raised an eyebrow

Jake whispered in a sob. "I didn't just lose Amy... I lost my baby as well." He subtly looked up to see Holt's widened eyes.

"Amy was pregnant?" He asked, his voice a little higher than usual.

Jake nodded, keeping his eyes on the ground. "We had only known a week."

By that point, Raymond had nothing left to say. Jake was still looking down at the floor, trying to cover up the fact he was slowly beginning to tear up again. The two cops remained silent. Minutes ticked by and not a word had been said before Holt glared down at his watch. He stood from the couch. "Thank you for inviting me in, Peralta. I really must be off now." He made his way to the apartment door.

Instead of looking, Jake swung his head back against the top of the couch, staring up at the ceiling. It must have been seconds after that Jake looked at the door to see that no one was stood there. He glanced at the ceiling again before closing his eyes tightly, a tear just managing to escape, it rolling down his pale neck, landing on the large beige blanket that Jake had taken from out one of Amy's boxes in the closet that he had wrapped himself in. Luckily, it still smelled like her.

Did that make you cry? Cause it made me!

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