CHAPTER TWENTY: I'M NOT GONNA CHOOSE

They relaxed a little in the week after that. Or at least, they tried to.

Erin and Avery seemed to glide easily into a rhythm together, and although Avery was still going out late at night and usually coming home under the influence of something or another – Erin never wanted to ask – she was still around the whole day, and tried to be as helpful as possible. She'd been to visit the school, and had started going for a couple of days a week, here and there. They hadn't wanted to force her into full time education immediately, especially as she was still a witness to their investigation and since their case hadn't been progressing much, so they were still very much in the process of showing Avery photographs of every person of interest they had listed, and every relation of the family, in the vague and optimistic hope that she would recognize one of them as their shooter. No such luck so far.

One night, after Avery had come home flat-out drunk and Erin had tried to turn a blind eye, taking Voight's advice a little too far, she woke up at about 4am to the sound of the clinking of glass bottles and the dodgy light in the kitchen shining a smooth stroke of light into their bedroom, and when she left the comfort of her (empty) bed to see what was happening, she found Jay chucking bottle after bottle of beer, wine, champagne – even the special stuff they saved for Christmas and birthdays – into the bin.

"Jay!" Erin hissed through her teeth, trying to keep the noise down so as not to disturb Avery across the hall.

"Erin, I'm sorry, but I can't have this!" he told her, still throwing the bottles away.

"What the hell?" she breathed, more in shock than in anything else.

"Listen. I know I'm just supposed to be okay with this and all, and I'm trying to support you, but I just can't do it anymore!"

"Do what?" she shot at him in an angry whisper. "Support me? Or is this still about Avery?"

He shook his head. "Erin, you don't understand."

"I don't –" she bit back the words in the way she always did when she was angry. Think first. She'd gotten herself in to much trouble in the past for acting before thinking. "I don't understand? Then enlighten me. Go on. I'm listening."

She folded her arms tightly across her chest and tapped her foot impatiently. Her nostrils were flared and her eyes wild with fury. What was his problem? Why the hell couldn't he just trust her? She wasn't fragile, and she certainly wasn't weak. He knew this. So what was happening?

He took a deep breath and stood up. "Okay. Fine." Both his hands went to her shoulders. "I just don't think it's a good idea to have her around you when she's like this, especially given your…"

Erin could feel the anger rising in her throat as she fought to keep her cool. "My what, Jay?"

"Your history! Jesus, Erin, I'm not gonna tiptoe around this anymore. You're a recovering addict and you're letting someone on drugs stay in the same house as you? That's not healthy! It's dangerous!"

She was fuming now. "A recovering addict? Is that all you think of me, Jay? I've been sober for nearly five years, for God's sake! Am I really that fragile? Do you really not trust me that much?"

"Erin, that is not what I meant. I'm just trying to…"

"Just trying to what, exactly?"

"I just want to keep you safe," he said quietly, and his voice wobbled dangerously, so thick that the words were barely distinguishable. "Why can't you understand that? I'm worried about you, Erin. I love you and I need you to be safe!"

Erin clenched her jaw again. "I am safe, Jay. I haven't touched any drugs in nearly five years. And trust me, I've been in more tempting situations than this. I'm sober. And the last thing I need is you doubting me!"

"I'm not doubting you, Erin, you know that."

"Then who are you doubting? Avery? Because I'm not giving up on her, Jay. No matter how much you want me too."

He didn't reply. She had told him everything he needed to know.

Erin swallowed.

I'm not giving up on her Jay, had been what she said.

But I'm choosing her, had been what he heard.

"Jay, I'm not gonna choose. I'm not choosing between you and Avery. I can't, and it's not fair of you to ask me to do that," she read his mind and tried to put it at ease.

It was his turn to clench his jaw. "I know," he muttered, but he didn't meet her eyes.

"Listen, I'll talk to her, okay? About the rehab facility. But like Voight said. She's not an addict. She's just a kid, and she's having fun, or at least, she thinks she is. I can handle it. I'll make sure she knows that there are absolutely no drugs in the house, okay? And I'll give her the option of the facility. In case she does need it."

Erin turned around and left him in the kitchen. She wanted to go over and reassure him; he was so desperately worried about her that it broke her heart. It didn't help that her very worst fear – that Avery coming to live with them would come between them, come between one of the only good, stable things she had going on in her life – seemed to be coming true.

And a knot settled in her stomach as she switched off the light and pulled the covers tightly around herself, drawing her knees to her chest, and that tiny voice of self-doubt from years ago awakened from its dormant sleep in her mind to whisper but maybe he's right. Maybe you aren't strong enough.

She hadn't noticed, and neither had Jay, but Avery had been stood in the hallway listening to every word, the light of the moon reflecting in the tear tracks that traced her face when she realized that Erin had not only been a kid with a shitty childhood whom a cop had helped, but she had been in the exact same situation as her.

When she realized how ungrateful and horrible she had been to be staying out late and coming home high when the person who had so kindly granted her a place to stay and food and shelter and love was an ex-addict herself.

When she realized that this past week must have been absolute torture for Erin, but she didn't say a word, didn't make a fuss, just kept making Avery feel safe and at home.

Burgess's words from before Avery had even moved in, echoed in her mind.

Every time she loses someone it's more than a fight for her to come out the other end.

Now, she knew exactly what she had meant.

Erin woke Avery early the next morning by flinging open her curtains and bringing her a cup of coffee.

"What time is it?" Avery moaned sleepily, dragging the pillow over her face as she squinted at the early Chicago sun.

"Seven?" Erin frowned. "It's not that early."

"Yeah, maybe not for your ex-military boyfriend, but for us normal folk, it's too damn early to be woken up."

Erin lifted the pillow and raised an eyebrow. "You mean for you hungover folk?" she smirked.

Avery just yawned and took the coffee. "Thanks," she mumbled after several sips.

"Listen, Avery. I need to talk to you about something important."

Avery frowned and sat up on her pillows. "Yeah?" she asked, her face immediately worried. But then she remembered the conversation that she had overheard last night, and the tension lifted slightly. She was going to ask her about going to a rehab facility, and Avery was going to agree. Because even if she hated the idea, and hated the feeling of not having control, and hated the prospect of not having these drugs to take the edge off when life was particularly crappy, she just couldn't sit here and not make any progress while Erin was working her butt off and hurting like hell because of her, and putting her neck on the line for her, and having to watch her grow into what could have potentially been a worse version of Erin herself.

"I, uh… we – we think – well," she started hesitantly. "I want you to feel at home here. You know that, right?"

Avery nodded, looking down at where she nestled the pale blue mug between her knees.

"And you know that we want what's best for you, yes?"

Another nod. "What's all this about?"

Erin took a deep, slightly shaky breath. "It's just, I'm a bit concerned about the drugs."

Avery clenched her jaw and her eyes met Erin's as she swallowed. A third nod, this one slightly reluctant. "You want me to stop?"

It was Erin's turn to nod. God, this conversation was so awkward. "I want you to get clean, yes. And I want you to be safe and happy. And if you can do that on your own, that's okay, and I'll help you, but if not, that's okay too, and I've found a placement at a rehab facility for you."

She expected Avery to storm out and slam the door, she expected her to scream and yell and fight her, she expected her even to cry – just something. Anything. What came next was definitely not what she expected.

Avery looked down into her coffee and swirled the murky brown liquid around the mug. Then she lifted her gaze to Erin.

"It's okay. I heard you and Jay fighting last night."

"We weren't fighting!" Erin protested indignantly. "We just had a bit of a…"

"Fight?" Avery grinned, but it didn't reach her eyes.

Erin took a breath. "How much did you hear?"

She shrugged. "Enough. I heard that you have a history?"

"Well, that's not exactly how I wanted you to find out, but yeah. I've been in rehab a couple of times."

Avery swallowed. "Okay, I have a confession. When I first came to the district and saw you again, and when you first offered for me to come and stay here, I kinda grilled Kim about you and your past and what the deal really was with your situation and Voight and all that. She told me more about Lexi and Justin and how they died, and she didn't go into details or anything because she said that a lot of this is your story to tell, but I kinda got the impression that you've been through some really tough times."

Erin just shrugged her shoulder slowly, squeezing her lips together. She didn't have anything to say to that. It was true. But she felt an immense swelling of gratitude in her chest towards her friend for not disclosing any of that private stuff and for granting her the ability to tell her own story, in her own time.

"And I just wanted to say I'm really sorry. About everything. All the names on the wall outside the district, and everything that doesn't get a plaque."

"Thanks, bud," Erin replied. "And listen, I wouldn't be encouraging the rehab facility if it weren't the best thing for you, you know that, right?"

Avery nodded. "Yeah. I know. I'll go. I want to. I'll get clean."

Erin beamed. She'd never been more proud of someone in her life. "Thank you," she whispered, and lunged across the bed, wrapping her arms around the teenager and pulling her in for a hug. "Thank you so much."

Avery exhaled into Erin's shoulder and hugged her back. She couldn't remember the last time someone had hugged her like this. Like they didn't want to let go, and she didn't want them to let go either. It was nice. She felt loved, and safe.

"Erin?" Came Jay's voice from the hallway. "Are you ready to…"

He stopped in his tracks when he saw the two of them perched on Avery's bed, hugging. He swallowed. This was good, right? Of course it's good. But a feeling of unease settled in his stomach and he couldn't help but wish that it was him Erin was fighting for this time.

And he hated himself for it.