Reyan and Jamie stand silently just inside the doorway of Eddie's room. The everything is white but the furniture, which is a neutral beige. The ventilator and an endless array of monitors stand guard around the bed. They provide a steady stream of white noise, even rhythms all overlapping each other.

"Her condition is, as I'm sure you were told, is serious, but stable,"the nurse explains. "She'll be in the ICU for a few days at least. Once her doctor deems it safe to ease her off the ventilator and allow her lungs to start working in their own again, it won't be long until she's in a more private room upstairs."

Reyan nods slowly, her eyes not leaving Eddie. "Thank you," she murmurs. Jamie's hand is wrapped tightly around Rey's wrist. It's been like that since they walked in. He still hasn't moved. The nurse nods as well, a tight smile on his face. With a final glance at all three of them, and Eddie's vitals on the monitors, he walks quietly out of the room.

Jamie takes a deep breath, finally relinquishing his hold on Reyan's wrist. His breathing falls in time with the steady hum of the ventilator. "She doesn't look peaceful," he manages, "Why do people always say that?"

"She looks like she should be in pain. She's recovering from a bullet wound to the chest. What's so peaceful about that, right?" Rey's voice is bitter, her eyes filled with pain at the sight of her best friend. The Eddie she remembers is bright and full of life, always with a sharp comeback and a blinding smile. Eddie feels like coming home and her eyes bring peace and calm. This girl under the light hospital linens? This isn't her Eddie. It can't be. Can it?

She walks over to the chair beside the bed without making a sound. Her feet hardly seem to touch the ground. Jamie follows close behind, like he's walking in a dream. They sit, Rey on Eddie's left and Jamie on her right. Rey takes Eddie's hand gently. This isn't Eddie. Her hand isn't cold, but it doesn't feel right. Her hand is limp, the life seems gone. She feels like some sort of porcelain doll. Like Reyan could break her with little more than a touch. Rey lays Eddie's hand back down, smoothing out the blanket. "Sorry," she whispers to the unconscious body on the bed.

Jamie stand up suddenly. "I can't be here," he says, "It's all my fault! I did this. I can't be here anymore..." his breathing quickens, his words running together. He backs towards the door, gasping for air.

"Jamie..." Rey starts, "It wasn't-"

"No!" Jamie says. He isn't shouting but it feels like it. His voice is quiet but firm, choking back tears. "I'm sorry. Not now." With that he walks out the door, hurrying down the hall.

His first course of action is to find the nearest bathroom. He ends up in one in the hall outside the ICU. It's quieter out here, but not silent. At least he's escaped the constant noise of the machines, and the codes, and the doctors yelling orders. He just stands there for a moment, taking in the calm.

He turns the water on at the sink, making it painfully hot. He just wants to feel something besides this numbness. The steaming water runs red as it washes over his shaking hands. He scrubs the rust-colored blood from the creases in his hands. Under his nails it's dried until it's nearly black. Looking at himself in the mirror, he realizes it's smeared through his hair. He rinses his face, scraping the last of it from his hairline. After he cools the tap down a bit, he sticks his head under it as best he can. The water runs pink for a minute, then clears.

It's not until Jamie's hair is already clean and dripping wet, that he notices that there aren't any towels in this small hospital bathroom. Improvising, he takes off his jacket and rubs his hair as close to dry as possible. Then, he pulls the jacket back on, zipping it up to cover the last of Eddie's blood, soaked into his white t-shirt. Eddie's blood, he thinks.

By the time Jamie finally leaves the bathroom it's been almost twenty minutes. But as he walks farther and farther from the ICU, no one gives him a second glance. Even better, it feels good to be clean; to not have his own partner's blood all over him. He's calmer now.

He's spent far too much time in St. Victor's hospital in his relatively short life. He walks his path silently. He's walked this same route dozens of times. Too many cops get shot, he thinks. Too many brothers, too many partners. At some point it all has to get to be too much. He doesn't know when that'll be but this time felt pretty damn close. He feels like he's breaking.

"She has to make it," he says to himself as he pulls open the doors. His destination: the chapel. Jamie Reagan certainly cannot call himself the perfect Catholic, but he can always find some sort of comfort here. While Eddie feels like coming home, the St. Vic's chapel feels like open arms of safety. So it's only when he's sat himself down in a pew, that he allows himself to truly feel the pain. He sits, shoulders shaking with sobs, as the reality of everything really hits him. He suddenly can't breathe again, but feels everything now. His mind races through the events of the previous night in flashes. It's all right there:

Eddie's bright smile as she laughed at something he'd said. The calming flash of her blue eyes when she glanced up at him. In a second it all changes. The flash of the gunshot, the echoing of the bang. Bright red blood spreading across the front of Eddie's pale pink shirt. The mix of surprise and pain on her face. Him hardly noticing how close he was to his own gunshot wound, instead dropping to the ground, trying to keep the blood in her body. Untouched snow darkened by an ever-growing stain of blood, illuminated by the streetlights. The roaring of the car's engine as it sped away.

When his brain finally slows down, he's exhausted. Taking shaking breaths, he wipes the tears from his face with his sleeve. He hasn't slept in almost thirty-six hours and it's beginning to take its toll. Alone in the chapel, he lays down across his pew. It's not comfortable but he'll take it. Every time he closes his eyes it all comes back again, but the relief of being able to simply lie down is still welcome. The only thing that would make this more bearable would be if Eddie was here with him.

A/N: Happy (almost) New Year, y'all! I thought this might be a good enough way to celebrate. This is my favorite chapter I've written so far, to be honest. I liked writing Jamie's bit a lot, so I hope you all like it just as much. I seem to be confronted with a bit of writer's block every time I try writing the next chapter (mostly because I'm never happy with how I'm writing Danny), so I'm not quite sure how soon our next update will be, but I'm working on it. Wish me luck...

Another thing I'd like to address is that I've made this story (also Reyan!) an aesthetic collection or whatever you call it on We Heart It. So if any of y'all happen to use WHI and are interested, my user on there is itwasit .

I hope you all have an amazing start to your new year! 'Til we meet again - whenthedark