Title: Little Moments
Author: ZombieJazz
Fandom: Chicago PD
Disclaimer: I don't own them. Chicago PD and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Ethan has been created and developed for the sake of this AU series. As have Mattie, Eli, and Henry.
Summary: This is a collection of stand-alone scenes from the past, present and future of the AU that has been established in the Interesting Dynamics series. Scenes are not chronological, nor is there an overarching plot. This collection of chapters is not likely to make much sense to readers who have not read the Interesting Dynamic series.
SPOILER ALERT: There are MAJOR spoilers in this collection from Interesting Dynamics, So This is Christmas, Scenes, Aftermath, So It Goes, The Way From Here, Hereafter, Onward Thankfully and Spring Forward (the story From the Get should be considered separately from this collection and does not influence where the characters are). There will also be occasional spoilers from (and references to) things that have happened in episodes from all seasons for the series, including S06 when it starts.
Erin stood just outside the bay they had Jay sitting in. Literally sitting in. He hadn't even let himself lay down on the gurney. He'd likely been told to but he still wasn't listening. She got the sense that was the theme of the day.
But she knew him – and she'd been there in her own ways, and with other people in her life … Hank, Justin – to know that Jay wouldn't be in the kind of headspace that he was hearing anything. Or anywhere near thinking straight right now. His thought process would be consumed with other things. Understandably. But it hurt her to know – to speculate – about all the places his head was and where it was going. And to know that so far he hadn't been letting her in. That he'd again tried to plow through this on his own. Because he was too used – taught, groomed – to be left alone. That he felt alone in it.
And Jay had let himself believe that that someone made him independent and made him a man. But Erin also knew it wasn't the man he really was. And she knew that when he wanted to be – he could be part of a team. He could trust his team and lean on his team.
She had heard him say to her before – in one of her holes – that when they were a team – together – he was a better cop. He was a better man and a better person. And she knew it was going to be a process in getting him to realize that again – now. To accept it. And to act on it. To lean on her.
A hospital gown was sitting off behind him and his bareback gave away that he was likely going to be there a while – and that he wasn't doing anything to help speed the process along. So she didn't think he'd be ready to do anything to speed on the process in them – as a family, as a couple – in working through any of this just yet either. His head was still catching up with him. He was still coming down from the day – days.
He didn't know she was there yet. She could tell. His back was to her. Erin had a sinking feeling that might be the body language she'd be getting for a while.
And she just hadn't been prepared to deal with that. Maybe she should've been more prepared. She knew that Pat's heart was an issue. She knew surgeries were happening. But even in all that she hadn't felt like this was imminent. Maybe she should've too. She'd had enough loss in her family – at home and at work – that she knew how fragile life was. The present and the supposed normalcy was. That it could all change in an instant. That people could be gone from your life before you even saw it coming. But she hadn't seen this coming. She hadn't braced herself for it or anticipated it. Not in this way or on these terms.
But these were circumstances that they couldn't have seen coming. They couldn't have prepared themselves for it to happen in quite this way. Maybe they'd both contemplated that Pat's heart would fail. Or that he'd die on the table during surgery. That there'd be some sort of complications during or in the hours or days afterwards. That wasn't exactly what happened. And even if it had been they'd only talked about those circumstances and what-ifs so much. Because Jay hadn't wanted to get into it. Because they were still dealing with Pat Halstead's reaction – or lack there of – to the pregnancy and the babies. Because they were still sorting out the if and when and how Pat might be involved in their lives or the twin' lives. And it'd sort of felt like – in their tunnel vision – that there'd be time to work that out. To figure it out. For Jay to work through his feelings about his dad and his childhood. For her to work through her feelings about … what she saw Jay's upbringing had done to him and for her to balance her protection of him and her kids against … what Jay might want or her kids' right to have … more in their lives.
But that time was gone now. And it was all just … unresolved. And she knew that would make it harder. Harder for Jay to deal with. Harder on him. And it'd spin and change what his thoughts and opinions about so many things were likely going to be now. Because it was all going to be laced regrets and what-ifs.
Erin had thought it would be Bunny who'd send them spinning. Who'd rock the boat and disrupt the progress they'd made. That it'd be her past – and how she dealt with it and all the bad news it brought – that would smack them in the face again. She hadn't been prepared for this.
But she should've known to be. Life with them always seemed to be one step forward and about twenty back. Over and over. Only now – it was different. It had to be. And she wasn't sure Jay had really clued into that quite yet.
Or at least that day. He'd lost sight of it. But there was a lot in front of him clouding his vision right now. So maybe she needed to get in front of it for him. Get in front of him. To help him get in front of this – before this turned into something else. A whole lot of something elses that she knew this could become if they weren't careful. If she was recognizant of where he was at. If she wasn't respectful of it. But also if he wasn't respectful of where he was at too – and the help he needed. And the new responsibilities he had now. This had to be different. This time.
But Erin wasn't mad at him. She was too worried about him to be upset at him in that way. Though, she was a little concerned he was going to work at egging her on to the point they had an argument – right there, in the ED of Med. In front of everyone. Because she was already anticipating in his defensive mechanisms. And his previous history of shutting down and shutting her out. And she knew the sort of things he'd likely throw at her.
Things she'd lost sight of herself previously. Orders she hadn't taken. Revenge she'd gone after. Nadia. Yates. Bunny.
They both knew where that had gotten them. Where it'd gotten her. And what it'd done to their relationship. And what it'd done to her relationship with her family then. To her career.
There was more on the line now. But she could understand – in the moment – you could lose yourself. It was just that neither of them could do that in the same way anymore. They needed to stay grounded. They needed to stay out of situations like this.
Erin exhaled a little and gathered herself and stepped up to the sliding glass door. She pulled it open and he turned slowly to gaze at it.
It was like it took him a long moment to register it was her that was there – not a doctor or nurse checking on him. His eyes looked so tired and sad. She saw the hurt little boy there in them. She could see all the broken pieces that they'd been working together on trying to mend at least a bit for him, going brittle right there in his pupils again.
"Hey …," she offered him with a frown. She wanted to hug him but he didn't look like he wanted the touch quite yet. But at the same time it was like his whole being was screaming for it. His shoulders sagged and slouched.
"I told you you didn't need to come in …," he managed to whisper out.
She gave him a little shrug and moved over closer to him. "Yea, I did," she allowed, catching herself from quipping about not being a very good listener either.
She knew if she said that he'd bristle. That he'd think Hank had talked to her – which he had. But he hadn't. He'd called not long after she'd gotten off the phone with Jay – her mind still reeling. More than it had been in the days leading up to this. They'd hardly had a chance to see the mushroom cloud from Pat dying. The fallout hadn't even come down yet. She supposed this was just part of the fall-out of it. But it almost felt like a second atomic bomb had just been dropped on them. On the family they'd been growing and working on.
So she hadn't really processed – or even heard – anything Hank had said. Jay had said more to her anyway about what happened. Fractured and distant with a smattering of reassurances that he was fine. That they were just making him go to the hospital to get checked out. But he hadn't sounded fine.
Hank's call was brief. It was personal. Not professional. He rarely went into any kind of details with her about the job anymore. She knew he couldn't and he was drawing that line. But it was still another hard adjustment.
So Hank didn't get into what happened. He'd just told her not to worry about Ethan that afternoon. It was likely good he'd thought of that. Because she hadn't. She hadn't registered that it was a day of the week that Ethan usually showed up at their place in the afternoon. And Hank was right, he likely would've been jarred and confused if he'd arrived to her not there. Or no one there. That he was going to be jarred and confused if – when – he got any kind of wind of what happened in the news. If he put the pieces together about what had really happened. But Hank was going to handle that not. That he was going to grab Ethan at Iggy's and run interference. But that he couldn't come and watch the twins for her because he had a bunch of mopping up to do.
That's about all she'd taken from the conversation.
"Who's with the babies?" Jay asked.
"Olive," Erin allowed and set the bag she'd brought on the mattress next to him. He was giving her a look – at Olive babysitting. But she shook her head at him. "Don't," she said.
As much as they butted heads with Olive – as much as they were different people with some different takes on parenting – Olive was family too. And Erin knew that in a lot of ways she'd just kind of made Olive her scapegoat in dealing with her own insecurities about herself as a mother and as a parent. It wasn't Olive – as much as Olive could be … Olive. Erin knew she was only trying to help and be family. That Olive was still trying to find her place in the family and still trying to be a member of it. And dealing with her own insecurities in that. It just meant that sometimes they both rubbed each other the wrong way – especially when they added in Justin and the history and baggage they both had there in so different ways. It was just complicated. But that was family.
At least Olive showed up. She stepped up.
And she'd pretty much raised Henry on her own. Justin had only been so much help – and so involved – with the hours and regiments he had to keep on base. Olive could manage the twins for a couple hours. More if they needed her too. Erin wasn't worried about it. And it wasn't the time or place for them to vent their frustrations or pet peeves about their different personalities or approaches.
"It's going to be a while," Jay mumbled.
Erin nodded and nudged as the bag, as she rounded to take an actual look at him. The bruising that was already a nasty mix of black, blue and dark maroon. A dressing that looked like it was probably going to need to be at least checked – if not changed – before he was released. Blood was already soaking through it in a growing dot – if they had put in stitches already.
It looked painful. She knew Jay would downplay any pain it was causing. Or he'd suck it up. He'd claimed he'd experienced worse and had more expected of him and less care offered to him. And he'd likely not-so-secretly be believing that he deserved it. That it was some kind of penance.
At least she knew seeing it that he'd likely be off roster for a day or two. Mandatory. For Med to finish with him and than the Force doctor to look at him and sign-off on when he would be ready to go back to work – full-duty. That there'd be a mandatory therapy appointment in there too, and if Jay hadn't put in his request for leave after the loss of a parent, then Erin was sure that the company shrink would be tacking on some extra days for him before he was back on shift too.
He'd be home a few days. They could try to work through some of this. Though, it wasn't realistic that they'd work through much. That they'd even scratch the surface. He'd fight against that. And, she knew too that most of the time would be filled with funeral planning and the service and wake. And Jay getting into too much – about everything and nothing – with Will.
"A change of clothes," she provided.
He stared at the bag. "I don't think I'll need it for a while," he mumbled and then looked at her – finally. "They're sending me for a CT."
"It looks like that's smart," she said and have a nod at his chest and abdomen. She wasn't a doctor but knew enough about human anatomy to see that the bruising was right at his spleen and that the through-and-through he'd taken looked like it'd been pretty close to hitting a whole lot of something. As much as she was for toughing things out too, she wasn't exactly in a place where she was willing to gamble that way anymore. She needed him around. And on his feet. And well. The twins did.
"Everyone's making a bigger deal out of this than they need to," he muttered.
"I don't think so," she said and reached for the gown.
"I'm fine," he countered.
She shook her head. "No, you aren't, Jay."
He just stared at her again. Those sad, broken eyes. And Erin put the gown on his lap.
"How about you put it on," she said. "Maybe looking like you're ready to co-operate will make them more willing to get you to the front of the line."
He touched it but still didn't lift it.
"Did you talk to Hank?" he asked and cast her a look.
Erin shrugged. "Yea. But not really."
His finger kept flicking at the stray tie on the gown. Erin reached and gave his hand a squeeze and his eyes met hers.
"He lit into me," he allowed.
"Been there," Erin said.
He shook his head ever so slightly and stared off again at the heart and blood pressure monitor screens. They looked – sounded – normal to her but she wondered how worried she should be about them having them attached to him versus them just following procedure.
"I couldn't tell … if … It felt personal. Not just professional. What he was saying …"
"My experience," Erin said, squeezing his hand again. "It was likely a bit of both."
His eyes moved to hers. "It's not like everyone else hasn't …," he pressed at her with a small edge. He was trying to put on tone and defiance – but it wasn't coming out as firmly as he likely wanted. "Like Voight hasn't. Like you—"
She squeezed his hand harder. "Jay," she stopped him with the firmness he was likely trying to find in his voice. "Don't. Right now - this is about you. Not me. And not Hank. We can compare dance cards and remind each other just where all that got any of us later. Not here."
"Erin," his head just kept shaking. "I just couldn't stop myself."
She sat down next to him and continued to hold at his hand. "I know," she acknowledged. And now he had to live with that. They all did. "But, you can't, Jay. We can't. Not anymore." She sighed and looked at him. "We both know the risks of the job. But this wasn't that, Jay. You should've … taken your three days. Bereavement."
His eyes stared straight ahead again. "I don't know what I'm supposed to be mourning."
"Your childhood," she suggested.
"I lost that a long time ago," he muttered.
"But you haven't dealt with that yet," Erin said.
He still just kept looking at that wall. "He accused me of just being there to try to get 'all his money' again."
"What money …" Erin muttered.
Jay shook his head. "I told him to fuck off. That's our last conversation. The last thing I said to him."
She squeezed his hand again. She wanted to say that at least he could remember his last conversation with him. That maybe he got to say something he'd wanted to say for a long time. That maybe that'd count for something – eventually. If he let himself deal with this. If he let himself talk about it. If he let her in.
But his eyes rotated to stare at her. "He never met them," he rattled and it gleaned in his eyes. And she squeezed his hand harder, her own eyes glassing.
"I know …," she acknowledged. And she knew that was going to eat at him. That as much as he'd been resistant to including his dad in their lives – as much as she was in agreement with him on that at the moment – she knew that was going to haunt him. That it was going to be a defining aspect of how he'd process and cope with this. The questioning and blame and reflection it'd bring.
"He never wanted to meet them," he said. "Even that – I couldn't do that in the right way for him. In a way he respected or was proud of. He didn't want to meet – hold – his own grandkids. My kids."
"That was his choice," she offered.
He looked at her. "Was it?"
"Jay …," she sighed at him.
But his eyes just watered more and he looked away – back to that wall.
She let go of his hand and reached for the bag she'd brought, unzipping it and retrieving a framed picture of Eli and Mattie. Their smiling, happy babies. These little people who were fighting their own battles. Who they were trying to give better to than they had. Trying to do better for than what their parents had done for them.
And she set it in his lap. His eyes going down to look at it. And glassing more.
"Your debate about if you should have this at work," she said and found his hand again. "You should have it at work. And the next time you just can't stop yourself – make yourself stop long enough to think of them, Jay."
His breathing felt shaky even though to where his hand was gripping at hers.
"We both know what not having a dad who's there for you growing up does," she said. "They want you – need you – around."
"I know …," he rattled out.
And she squeezed his hand again. "They need you present and healthy too, Jay," she pressed and found his eyes. "You don't need to go into that hole with your dad, Jay. That's not what you deserve. And, if you think you're slipping in – I need you to talk to me. You aren't alone. And you can't act like you are. And, if you won't do that for yourself. And you can't do that for me – for us. Then I really need you to do that for them," she said and looked at the picture too.
They both did. And she squeezed his hand harder.
"You're loved, Jay," she allowed quietly. "You're wanted. And you're needed – at a lot of people. You've still got a family. That hasn't changed."
And he didn't say anything. But a tear did fall and splatter against the glass.