A/N: Hey guys! I hope you like this chapter, it gets quite angsty towards the end, but I love breaking my favorite characters. What can I say.
Huge thanks to Sarah, without whom my writing would not be half as good. She is an amazing beta and a sounding board for all my ideas.
I have also decided that I am going to be moving this story (and all my other stories, to AO3. With Article 13 passed, it's only a question of time before they delete my account on here, so if you want to follow me there, I will let you know my username so you can find me. Apparently ao3 will be an exception because it's a non-profit, so you will be able to read me there from now on.
Playful.
That's how Jay is feeling when they make their way into the bullpen that morning. Playful. Happy. Almost floating as he cheerfully greets Platt and stops himself from whistling as he walks through the door. It reminds him of having a high school crush on a girl who happens to reciprocate his feelings.
Well in a way, it's not far from the truth.
That's until he spots someone new in the bullpen. His body tenses, going into full detective mode, immediately assessing the possible threat. A tall guy with sandy blonde hair and a chiselled jaw is standing in the middle of the room, acting like he owns it. At first glance, he doesn't seem to pose a threat. He looks hot—the makes other guys nervous around their girlfriends kind of hot. But that's not what makes Jay nervous. It's the look of complete horror on Erin's face. The colour draining from her cheeks and her knuckles turning white when her hands make fists so tight he's convinced her nails are going to leave marks on the inside of her palms.
He whispers her name, desperate to do anything to pull her from her daze, but she keeps staring at the guy with so much animosity that Jay wouldn't want to be on the other side of that stare. That's when it clicks. There is only one person he can think of that would deserve that much loathing from Erin.
Her ex-boyfriend. The person who left her at her most vulnerable.
His hand also makes a fist. He just wishes he could connect it to his smug face.
"Hank, you can't do this to me. You can't make me work with him." She throws her hands up in the air in exasperation, wondering what she did to deserve this. A loud sigh escapes her lips, and when she's finally composed enough to look at her boss slash father figure, he's watching her with a loving but amused expression.
"I don't really have a choice. I can approve your furlough if you'd like, but other than that my hands are tied. This is a high-profile case that brought him here, and the order came from above."
He looks tired, she takes notice. Not in a way that she's used to him being tired, when he gets grumpy and Camille sends him to bed. More like worn to the bones tired. Erin feels glad that he doesn't know. As forthcoming as she's been about the New York situation, she hasn't told him what went down between David and her. Didn't explain in detail how he decided she wasn't worth the trouble.
Now him being here in Chicago, makes her glad she hadn't. Because if Hank knew the kind of scum he was dealing with, David's face would be smashed into the ground already. Or maybe he'd be down at the docks, tying a rock to his feet.
Her gaze softens. "I get it. It just sucks."
"There's one more thing," Hank starts, and she knows by the look in his eyes that he kept the worst for last.
"What?"
"He wants to ride with you."
She wants to throw things.
She doesn't. Instead she pulls whatever strength she has left after the night she's had, and recomposes herself. When her eyes finally look up from the floor to meet his, they are ice cold. "Fine," she says. "But Jay stays. I'm not giving up my partner so he can get off on whatever twisted game he's playing." And neither will she miss the chance to rub her new relationship in his face.
Hank just nods and she leaves the bullpen, almost resisting the urge to slam the door into his face. Almost. To be fair, she really tries but when everyone—including her douchey ex-boyfriend—flinches at the sound, a wave of satisfaction rushes over her and she figures it was well worth it.
When Jay finds her five minutes later, she's mostly gotten it out of her system. For now, anyway. Her hands have stopped shaking and her breaths have gone from erratic to normal. But still, he can't help but feel alarmed when he sees her so insecure, so undone with absolutely no way of making her feel better.
He can be as strong as possible, but it does her no good. It makes him feel helpless.
Still needing to reassure her in a way—to remind her that he's there—his arms wrap around her with hesitation, almost as if he's afraid to touch her. Afraid that she might not want his touch. But she melts into his body, seeking comfort in his warm familiar embrace. They hold on each other for what could be one minute or ten, before they finally let go.
He pulls back to scan her face, knowing that any sign of further distress would be visible to his prying eyes. But she looks calmer. "You good?" The soft words are meant to break the tension between them. He knows she's not good, or fine. The past that had been nipping at her heels for a while just crashed down next to her with the force of a meteor.
"I am now," she reassures him, knowing that they both know the real answer. But the physical aspect of saying it, combined with putting on her game face makes her feel more ready. She gets up and pulls him after her. "Let's go face the music."
He holds her hand until it's appropriate. Then he reluctantly lets go.
David is waiting for her leaning on the 300. It turns out they already have a potential lead to check out on the case. Even though Hank only caught Erin up on the essentials, she imagines the rest of them were thoroughly briefed while she was yelling in Voight's office.
"Ready, sunshine?"
"Behave," she growls in a low voice. Damned if she will let him intimidate her. "Also, I'm driving. My city, my rules."
"Shotgun," Jay simply says, grinning. It's worth noting that his grin doesn't quite reach his eyes in this case, making it seem cold and fake, which is exactly what he intended it to be.
They make him sit in the back, while the act of driving allows Erin to regain control. If only he just sat in the back seat without talking.
"Everyone misses you back in New York."
"I bet," she replies, clearly indicating she doesn't believe him. Even more clearly indicating that she doesn't want to talk to him at all. About any subject. But he doesn't take a hint. He never could.
"What does Chicago have that New York doesn't? You left the best job, you were so close to getting promoted."
"Home. Family. Support. Cubs. Take your pick," she explains, her patience running out too quickly.
Jay jumps in the conversation, clearly uncomfortable and growing upset and angry. She can't blame him. If his ex-girlfriend, who hurt him, showed up, she would back her into a corner and show her just how good her right hook is.
So he starts talking about the case and Erin joins in, grateful for a chaperone for the first time ever. Or else someone might just end up dead in some Chicago ditch. She grew up in this city. She knows where to dump a body.
The case drags and drags, the elusive drug cartel spreading and leaving behind a trail of female bodies. After they run out of leads, Voight gruffly tells them to get some sleep.
As they walk towards the parking lot, Erin is reminded of the day she almost died back on patrol. Only this time, when his gaze locks on hers, there is no hesitation. There are no tentative looks and no "I'm not letting you go home alone" type of sentences. The look they share is enough to slowly warm up her cold insides. To melt the ice that she's been keeping there since they started working this case. She follows him to his car without words.
David is there, looking at her as if he's waiting for her. As if he wants to talk. But she is so tired, she can barely keep her eyes open as it is, and she definitely cannot deal with an emotional confrontation at that moment, so she lets Jay open the door for her and crawls into the passenger seat of his car, before exhaling with relief and buckling her belt.
They order pizza. They eat it sitting on the kitchen counter, drinking milk out of a carton because that's all he has in the refrigerator. Erin can't help thinking this might be the most intimate meal she's ever shared with a person.
After fuelling up, they share an exhausted shower—so unlike the one they shared days ago. There are no teasing touches, no kisses. They lather each other up, rinsing away the dirt and the grime from the job.
They fall into bed together. The comfort they share is in no way sexual. The way her head rests on his shoulder in search of intimacy can only be described as tender, and the soft kiss he places on her head before they both drift to sleep is enough to say I'm here. I'm not going anywhere.
And there is nowhere she'd rather be.
"You coming over?" She has her phone pressed between her ear and her shoulder as she tries to butter a piece of bread at the same time. She is too exhausted—emotionally and physically—to cook. Even something out of a box seems like too much trouble, so she's decided this will have to be her dinner.
"Maybe later, I promised Will I'd stop by. He has something he wants to talk to me about."
"Alright. I might turn in early. You have a key." She grins at the words. She caved in, sliding a copy over the table during breakfast, trying to be all casual about it, even though this is a big step for her. He was there almost all the time anyway, so she figured it was convenient. Always in sync, he grinned at her, reaching into his jacket to provide a copy of his apartment key, already made and waiting. She was happy he had it tonight.
"I'll see you later," he promises. "Love you."
"Love you too." Her cheeks burn, her lips craving his to seal the words with a kiss. But she's going to have to wait. She glances at the buttered-up piece of bread. Ah, screw that. She's having ice cream for dinner.
The doorbell rings just as she's scooping the last bit of Cookie Dough out of the container. She rolls her eyes, yelling out, you have a key, you know?
But when she opens the door, it isn't Jay's cheeky smile greeting her. It a blast from the past.
"I told you, you can't avoid me forever, Erin," David mutters, pushing his way into her apartment.
Erin stands there, helpless, angry that he's managed to take her agency away once again. How dare he just march into her apartment and act like he lives there.
"What do you want?"
"I want to talk. You left New York, acting like it was all my fault. Like I was some bad guy. I didn't know what to say to you. How to touch you. How to treat you. You've made me out to be some sort of a villain, but I was hurting too."
Tears well in her eyes, remembering how she felt that night. How ignored and unloved he made her feel. "Anything would've been better than what you did. Awkward words, attempts to comfort. ANYTHING!" The last word echoes around the room as she flings a glass at him.
"You made me feel like I was a burden. I was already feeling insecure and YOU DIDN'T FUCKING HELP! YOU LEFT ME! BECAUSE IT WAS EASIER FOR YOU! DID YOU THINK YOU WOULD JUST WAIT FOR ME TO GET BETTER AND THEN SWEEP IN LIKE SOME PRINCE CHARMING? DID YOU THINK I WOULD WAIT FOR YOU?"
She throws something else, not even knowing what it is—only that it crashes loudly against the wall, breaking into tiny pieces. They're just things. So easily broken. Just like hearts. But she can go to Ikea tomorrow to buy new glasses. If only she could buy a new heart. Unbroken. Undamaged.
She knows one thing. She wouldn't trust David with it.
"You don't want to be a villain," she sobs between deep breaths, "I get it. But the fact is David, that I was raped and somehow what you did hurt more. So, in my story, that's exactly what you are."
"I'm sorry," he says, blinking, as if only now realizing he had done something bad. At least it sounds half-sincere, she thinks. "I need you to forgive me."
"You need something from me that I can't give you," she says with shaky breaths. "Not now. Maybe not ever. That's just something you're gonna have to live with. Like I have to live with the fact that I wasted four years on someone who didn't care. That I put my heart into the hands of someone who crushed it without thought."
"Erin, please?"
"I WILL NOT ABSOLVE YOU SO YOU CAN SLEEP AT NIGHT! I WILL NOT PUT YOUR PRIDE BACK TOGETHER AFTER YOU BROKE ME!" She grabs something again. A plate. Who cares.
So easily broken.
"GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!"
Chasing him out of the apartment, she keeps throwing things, even after he's already gone. Every piece or item that ends up on the floor somehow a metaphor for her heart. It's cleansing. For a minute she wishes it was raining, so it would wash all of it off.
Then her body crumbles into a sad pile on the floor, her eyes empty, staring into nothing, feeling as broken as the pieces of porcelain around her, as she cries, and cries, and cries.
Until there is nothing left.
