Hi everyone! I'm beginning to sound like a broken record, but thank you all for your lovely reviews! I'm so glad to hear so many of you are enjoying this story. I think Erin has a very long way to go...but I don't think Jay is going anywhere, so there's that!
Enjoy!
-o-o-
Jay unlocks the door to their apartment and holds it open for Erin. She shuffles in slowly, good hand pressed to her ribs - she's walking a little easier than yesterday, but she still looks terrible, her shoulders hunched, her gait pained, her face pale.
He hadn't slept at all the previous night, so he knows that she didn't either. The hospital had insisted on keeping her after her...breakdown. She'd halfheartedly tried to protest, but she'd been pretty exhausted and shaken up. He'd been relieved when she'd given in easily.
He doesn't think he'll ever forget the terror of those moments - of standing outside the bathroom door while she screamed, of not being able to get in and help her.
Of the sight of her, curled up in the corner, blood staining her white hospital gown, totally hysterical.
It had taken nearly half an hour for him and Natalie to calm her down, to get her out of there.
She still hasn't said a word about it.
He closes the front door behind her, sets her bag on the ground. Watches her limp towards the couch, coat still on.
"You want some coffee?" he asks, not used to feeling so ill at ease in their home. "I can make grilled cheese, I thought?"
She smiles at him, tentatively lowering herself onto the couch. "Coffee would be great," she says. Her voice is scratchy and painful, and he can still hear the echoes of her screams.
She hadn't even been saying anything. Just screaming: panicked, desperate, agonizing wails. It was like she wasn't even there, like she had no idea what was happening.
He'd tried everything he could think of to calm her down, but it was like she couldn't even hear him. Every time he got too close, she lashed out, kicking her legs and flailing her broken arm.
He hadn't quite been able to believe that she hadn't reinjured something.
"Erin, you've gotta eat," he says now, watching her grimace as she eases her body back against the armrest.
"I will," she promises him. "I'm just not that hungry right now. But you should eat."
He doesn't know what to say. Doesn't know how to argue with her, how to help her.
When they'd finally, finally gotten her out of that horrible bathroom, she'd passed out on the bed for nearly an hour. She hadn't even stirred when they'd brought in a portable x-ray machine to check her ribs. When she'd finally woken up, it was like nothing had happened.
She'd apologized for making him worry. Smiled and kissed him and promised him that she was fine, that it was nothing. Told Natalie and Dr. Charles that it was just a panic attack, nothing to worry about, she'd had them before. That it was probably caused by the pain, and maybe she really should take something slightly stronger.
She'd been calm, and in control, and normal. And that had utterly terrified him.
-o-o-
He brings two grilled cheese sandwiches back to the couch, sets one on the coffee table in front of her.
"That was Sammi Reiner," she says, holding up the brand new phone Voight had brought to the hospital the day before. "She said that Maddie's been having some trouble adjusting. She's been asking for me."
She's already trying to get herself off the couch, barely suppressing a moan as she does.
"Erin," he sighs. "Just sit for a few minutes, okay? We just got home."
"I wanna go over there," she says. "They're only a few blocks away."
"Okay," he placates. "I'll drive you, but please, sit for a little bit first. Please."
It feels wrong and uncomfortable and unfair, talking to her like this. Treating her like a child. But she feels so fragile right now, so lost.
"I'm fine," she says, cupping her hand against his cheek. "I promise, Jay."
He nods. He doesn't believe her, not for a second. "I just want you to try and eat something, okay?"
He hands her one of the grilled cheese sandwiches. She looks like he's given her a plate of live worms.
"Do you want something else?" he tries. "We've got that cinnamon bun ice cream. Or we could order something. I think that-"
"Jay," she sighs. "It's just all the medication, okay? I'm just not-"
"You haven't eaten in days," he says, hoping her doesn't sound as desperate as he feels. "Please? I just want you to try, okay? Maybe it'll help you feel better."
She swallows hard, but takes the plate from him and takes a small bite. "It's good," she says, giving him a tiny smile that he thinks is intended to be reassuring.
He eats his own grilled cheese sandwich. He's so stressed he can barely taste it, but at least it's some sort of nutrition.
He hasn't talked to Voight since last night's incident, except to tell him that the hospital was keeping her one more night. Hasn't talked to anyone. He knows they're all back at the district now, turning the city upside down to figure out who else is a part of this.
Voight had texted him earlier, told him to take the day off and make sure Erin settled in at home. As he glances over at her, picking at her sandwich and jumping at every noise from the ancient radiator or the hallway or him, he wonders if he should ask for tomorrow off too.
Maybe the rest of the week. Or till she comes back to work. Or maybe just until this sick feeling in his stomach goes away.
She's recovering from something traumatic, he reminds himself. She went through a terrible experience, but she's fine. Or she's going to be fine.
He just wishes he could believe it.
-o-o-
Maddie nearly tackles Erin as soon as they walk in the front door.
"Maddie!" Jay can't help scolding, as Erin grimaces. "You have to be careful! Erin's still hurt."
But Erin slowly, painfully kneels down and wraps her arms around the little girl tightly.
She glares at him. He backs off.
"I thought you didn't want to see me anymore," Maddie says quietly. She's clutching Erin like a favorite doll, like if she lets go, Erin might disappear.
Jay knows how she feels.
"Of course I do, sweetheart," Erin murmurs in her ear. "I couldn't wait to see you."
"But I thought - because of the man, because he…" Maddie whimpers.
"No," Erin says quickly. "No, Maddie, it wasn't your fault, okay? Nothing was your fault."
She glances at Jay as she says it, her eyes apprehensive.
He doesn't understand.
"Maddie, you wanna show me your new room?" Erin asks, slowly pushing herself into a standing position. The movement looks difficult and painful, and he hovers a few feet away, not sure if he should help.
Maddie's whole face brightens. "Yeah," the little girl says, taking Erin's hand. "It's yellow and green, and there's another monkey!"
"Oh, yeah?" Erin says. She throws Jay a smile as the two disappear down the hallway.
-o-o-
"Detective Halstead, can I get you some coffee or tea?" Sammi Reiner asks.
"Oh," Jay says. He hasn't moved from his spot, staring down the empty hallway. "Coffee would be great, thanks. And it's Jay, please."
Sammi leads him into the small, cozy kitchen, gesturing towards the table. "I have some cookies too, if you want, and I'm happy to make something-"
"Please, I'm fine," Jay says, recognizing her nerves. "Coffee sounds wonderful."
Sammi smiles, pulling a mug from the cabinet. "Seems like Maddie got pretty attached to Erin," she says.
"Yeah," Jay says. He's half-engaged in the conversation, half trying to listen down the hall.
He turns back to see Sammi standing over him, holding a full mug of coffee, an understanding look on her face. He smiles sheepishly. "Thanks," he says, taking the cup from her.
"How's she doing?" Sammi asks, sitting down beside him. "Detective Lindsay, I mean."
Jay doesn't know how to answer that. He shrugs. "I think she's mostly worried about Maddie," he admits. "You said she was having trouble adjusting?"
Sammi takes a sip of her own coffee. "I know she's been through a lot," Sammi says. "Not just the last week, but her whole life. I guess considering all that, she's doing very well. And it's only been a couple days."
"Yeah," Jay agrees. He has to keep reminding himself of that.
"I think she's just having a hard time trusting us," Sammi says. "And I also think…"
She hesitates for a second. Jay raises his eyebrow.
"I think she's used to being abandoned," Sammi finally says, her voice laced with anger and sadness. "And I just thought...if we could show her that Detective Lindsay hadn't abandoned her, then maybe...I don't know. I just want her to know that we're not going to abandon her either."
Jay nods sadly.
And then he wonders - does Erin know that he's not going to abandon her?
-o-o-
He sleeps like the dead that night. He doesn't think he's ever been so exhausted in his entire life.
He's blissfully unconscious for a solid six hours, but when his bladder wakes him at 4:30 in the morning, he reaches for her and realizes that he's alone in the bed.
Dammit.
He finds her in the living room, huddled in the corner of the couch. It's warm in the apartment, but she's wearing his Blackhawks fleece over her flannel pajamas, and she's wrapped herself in a big wool blanket his mom had crocheted when she was sick. The iPad is propped against a pillow on her lap.
For a few seconds, he stands in the doorway, just watching her. In the eerie light of the device, the bruises on her face are sickly and green. She looks so tiny, so delicate.
He's so afraid she might shatter.
"Hey," he finally says, when it seems she's not going to look up and notice him.
She startles badly, nearly dropping the iPad.
"Sorry," he says, hands up, as if showing her he's not a threat.
"No," she gasps, grimacing in pain. "I - what are you doing up?"
He shrugs. "I missed you," he says, sitting beside her on the couch. "What are you watching?"
He assumes it's a movie - a mindless action flick, or maybe the rest of Unreal, or that weird show she likes about clones that he can't quite follow. But when he comes around the couch and looks over her shoulder, he sees - the news?
"Is that - Syria?" he asks, confused.
"Yeah," she says sadly. "Have you seen what's going on in Aleppo?"
The question pulls him up short, just a little bit. Erin is brilliant and curious and well-read...but he's never known her to take an interest in current events, or international affairs. He didn't realize she'd been paying attention to the Syrian conflict at all.
He certainly hasn't. Ever since he'd come home from Afghanistan, he's avoided any and all coverage of war. He doesn't like the sight of bombed out buildings, can't bear hearing the sirens and the chaos and the screams of people digging through rubble. Doesn't like to hear victims and soldiers describing what they'd been through.
"Uh, no," he says, sitting down next to her. "I haven't."
He studies her face, trying to figure out what she's doing, what she's thinking. He realizes her battered cheeks are wet. "Erin," he whispers, reaching over to brush a tear away.
She shakes her head, shrugging away from him. "These poor kids," she says hoarsely. "It's all so senseless."
"Yeah," he says, because he's not sure what else to say.
He watches her, worry stirring in his stomach. Her eyes are fixated on the tiny screen, on the blood and carnage and destruction.
Gently, he pulls the tablet out of her hand, closes the cover. "Come on," he says, trying not to beg. "Come back to bed."
She nods. She avoids his eyes.
-o-o-
The whole team is already in the bullpen by the time he gets in. He'd been really hesitant to leave her - he'd procrastinated for nearly an hour, making scrambled eggs for breakfast and watching her pick at them. He'd chopped up some vegetables for lunch, tried to clean up the living room a bit. He'd been about to vacuum the apartment, just to make sure, just in case she wanted to lie down on the carpet or anything, when she'd kicked him out.
"I'm fine," she'd promised, although he could see through the mask. "You're late."
"Are you sure you're gonna be okay?" he'd asked. "I can call out, if you want? We could just chill out and watch some movies? Maybe-"
"I'm fine," she'd said again, smiling at him. Big and fake. "Go to work, Jay." She'd kissed him gently, pulling away too fast. "If you don't go, I can't start binge watching Orphan Black. And I know you don't want to do that with me."
He'd tried to come up with a joke, a comeback, but all he could do was press his lips to her forehead, hold her close for just a moment. "I'll call you later," he'd said, trying to keep his voice from shaking.
"I'll be okay," she'd whispered. "I promise."
Antonio spots him as he climbs the stairs. "Hey, man, welcome back," he calls, and everyone turns to look at him.
Ruzek comes over and gives him a hug. "How you doing?" he asks, with genuine concern.
Jay puts on a smile. "I'm okay."
"How's Lindsay doing?" Atwater asks.
Jay shrugs his jacket off and drapes it over the back of his chair, stalling. He knows he should say that she's fine, she's good. He knows he should tell their friends, their colleagues, that she's healing, that she's feeling better.
And he tries. He looks up at all their hopeful, concerned faces, and tries to cover, to sound hopeful. But it's too hard. He shakes his head, avoiding anyone's eyes. "She's, uh...she's…"
The truth is, he doesn't even know what he could say. That they kept her in the hospital for an extra day, not because the pulmonologist had wanted to leave the chest tube in a little longer, but because she'd had the most terrifying panic attack he'd ever seen? That she won't eat anything? That instead of sleeping last night she'd stayed up watching news stories about children being blown apart in the Middle East? That she flinches every time he touches her?
His friends look sympathetic, worried. Antonio pats him on the back. "She'll be okay, man," he says. "Probably just shaken up. Concussions can really mess with you."
Jay nods, tries to make himself agree. "Yeah," he says. "She'll be okay."
-o-o-
Ruzek, Atwater, Antonio, and Olinsky head out to talk to a few CIs - they're still trying to figure out who tipped off Carver - but Voight asks him to stay back.
"How's she really doing?" his boss asks, once the rest of the team has filed out.
Jay sighs. This feels uncomfortably like the last time they had this conversation - before Erin had volunteered herself to meet with Carver, before a thousand horrible things had happened.
"She's not so good," he admits. "I don't - I'm not sure what to do."
"What's going on?" Voight says gruffly, but his eyes betray his worry.
Jay tries to decide what to say, how much to tell. Erin had barely spoken to Voight in the hospital, and she'd spent much of her first day home ducking his calls. He wants to be loyal to her, but…
"She had a panic attack in the hospital," he admits. "Really - scary. She was...somewhere else, I don't know. And now...she's not sleeping. She's jumpy, she's...and she's pretending everything's fine. She won't tell me anything."
Voight looks concerned, but he says, "That's how she copes with things."
Jay rubs his forehead. He knows that. He knows Erin hides things, knows she shuts down when you push her too hard, knows she deals with painful things by burying them. He watched how she coped with Nadia.
"When I first met Erin, she'd been through hell and back," Voight says contemplatively. "She was 14. Scrappy little kid, way too skinny, way too old for her age. Bunny was...I mean, who knows. Erin was living on the street."
Hearing this hurts. Because he can see it so clearly, can see how wounded and vulnerable she would have been.
"But the thing was, she wouldn't tell me," Voight says, his eyes focused intensely on Jay. "I thought they were living in this shitty one-bedroom in Gage Park. I thought she was going to school - that's what she told me. And I thought she was with Bunny."
"But she wasn't," Jay says slowly.
Voight shakes his head. "She was sleeping rough...sometimes with friends, for a while at Charlie's. That's when Teddy disappeared. She got picked up for solicitation once - didn't even call me."
"So what are you saying?" Jay asks.
"I'm saying...when things are really bad, Erin hides it. It's a survival thing. You saw what she did with Nadia."
Jay swallows hard. "Do you think there's something she's not telling us?" he asks, his voice barely audible. "Do you think something else happened?"
Voight doesn't answer. But his face says it all.
-o-o-
He wakes up in the middle of the night to Erin sobbing. For a second, disoriented in the darkness, he thinks that maybe it's a dream, that he's reliving the panic attack she had in the hospital, or the nightmare she had the day Maddie was kidnapped.
When he finally manages to wake up, he finds Erin curled up in a ball beside him, crying. "Close your eyes, Maddie," she wails. "No, don't. Don't look!"
"Erin," he says, shaking her hesitantly.
"No!" she sobs. "No, don't. Please. Maddie, it's okay!"
She's not screaming, and somehow that makes it worse. He reaches over and switches on the light. "Erin, please," he begs, tangling his hands in her hair, trying to figure out how to wake her without scaring her. "Baby, you're safe. Wake up, okay? Erin, you're okay. I've got you."
"Jay?" she chokes. "What?"
"It was just a dream," he says gently, kissing her forehead. She tenses, but finally relaxes and burrows into his chest.
She's shaking against him, but barely making a sound. He can feel her tears soaking through the T-shirt he fell asleep in.
"You're safe," he says, running his hands up and down her back. "Maddie's safe. It's all okay."
She pushes away, rubbing her hands across her eyes. "Sorry," she whispers.
"Don't be sorry," he says, missing her warmth.
She pulls his hand up to her lips and kisses it. "Go back to sleep," she says, her voice shaking. "I'm okay, I just need some water."
He watches her walk out of the room, heart aching.
-o-o-
When she doesn't come back to bed, he pulls on a sweatshirt and pads out into the living room. He can't find her at first, and he has a sudden moment of panic that she's left - that she's out wandering the freezing cold streets alone and defenseless.
But then he sees a foot sticking out behind the couch.
She's sitting on the rug, back propped against the side of the couch, a mug clutched between her hands. Her eyes are staring blankly out the sliding glass door, but she looks up at him and smiles.
"You should go back to sleep," she whispers. "You've gotta go to work in a few hours."
Jay ignores her, slides down to the floor beside her. Close but not too close. He glances at the mug in her hand, worried that there's more than coffee in it. Absently, she hands it to him, and he takes a sip, relieved to find that it's just cinnamon tea.
They sit in silence on the floor, sharing a mug of tea. Jay is exhausted, but something about the quiet and the darkness and her body beside him feels good. He leans his head back against the couch, letting her nearness relax him.
He's almost drifting off to sleep when she speaks. "The Reiners seem like good people, right?" she says.
It's so unexpected that he can't help startling a little bit. She's not looking at him, but she's holding the mug like a teddy bear, pressed to her chest.
"Yeah," he says gently, not sure where this is coming from. "They seem great."
Erin nods, like she's trying to convince herself. "Yeah. I think she'll be okay."
"She's gonna be fine," Jay says, studying her face. He reaches over to take the empty mug from her hands, and she finally looks at him. Her eyes are brimming with unshed tears. "Hey," he says softly. "Baby, the Reiners seem fantastic. They're gonna be great for Maddie."
"Yeah," she says quietly. "It seems like she got really lucky."
The "for once" goes unspoken.
When she doesn't say anything else, Jay manages to whisper, "Were you ever in foster care?"
He's not sure how she's going to react, but all she does is cock her head slightly. "No," she says finally. "Not unless you count Hank and Camille."
He thinks that's all she's going to say, but then she finally whispers, "After that time I was in a group home...it was pretty bad. So when they finally sent me home with Bunny, I just knew that anything was better than that."
"Anything?" Jay asks, his voice small.
She shrugs. "Maddie's really lucky," she says, so quietly he can barely hear her. "Most kids - I knew people who were in homes with three kids sleeping in a twin bed. The family was just trying to collect a check. I knew a kid whose foster parents hit him. So...Bunny, in a lot of ways, didn't seem so bad."
He's afraid to press his luck, but she's talking now, so he decides to try. "You said once that she disappeared for a while."
Erin smiles sadly. "She used to disappear all the time. But she was gone for about a year and a half. I was fourteen, fifteen I guess."
"Where'd you live?" he asks. He's barely breathing.
Erin leans her head back against the couch. "On the street," she says, like it's a fact. Like it's nothing. "There was always a sort of camp for homeless teens under the overpass."
He knows it. But it feels like a punch in the gut to hear Erin describe herself as a homeless teen.
He thinks he lets out a little gasp, because she turns to him, finally meeting his eyes. She doesn't look sad at all, just - matter-of-fact.
"But not always," she says. "Sometimes I stayed with friends. I lived with Charlie for a while. And it wasn't always so bad."
"Why didn't you tell anyone?" Jay asks carefully. "Why didn't you ask for help?"
She really thinks about it.
"I don't know," she says finally. She looks so lost. "I just - didn't."
She leans against him, and he pulls her into a hug. He's relieved when she doesn't pull away.
"You're the toughest person I've ever known," he says, kissing her hair.
He once said that to the detectives at SVU, in New York, when they were searching for her brother. He feels like maybe it's more important that she hear it.
"I'm not," she says sadly, but she burrows closer into his chest.
They stay there, cuddled together on the floor, watching the sun rise.
And he thinks that maybe they've just had a breakthrough. Maybe it really will be okay.
-o-o-
