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.
Summary: The holiday season begins after a year of struggle that looks like it's going to continue onward for lengths unknown. Erin comes home for Thanksgiving posed for some big conversations while her family grapples with their own struggles - illness, PTSD, shifting relationships and challenges on the job in New York and Chicago. Set in the Interesting Dynamics AU and post-S4 finale.
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 (including chapters/scenes in So It Goes that have not yet been written or posted), and Hereafter. This series also contains SPOILERS related to SEASON 5 of Chicago PD.
Erin broke away from the kiss and settled back into the couch, giving Jay a thin smile. But he draped his arm along the back of the sofa and stared at her. Concern playing lightly across his forehead.
"You alright?" he asked.
She allowed a smaller nod and let her arm snake up to rest over top of his. "I just miss this house, Jay. This city. This life. You."
His gazed stayed on her for a hesitant moment but his arm slipped out from under hers and reached to cup the back of her head as he leaned forward and captured her lips again in a brief but soft – sensual – kiss. He backed off and grinned at her. Such a shit-eating grin.
"This couch?" he teased.
She leaned more into the back pillows and smiled at him. "It is a pretty cool couch."
"In a pretty cool room with a sound system that's worthy of an artiste," he grinned. "So I think maybe you really mean … you miss your music set up."
She grinned at that and glanced over her shoulder into the little alcove that had thus far been exclusively occupied by her turntable and his high-tech sound system set up and her old school speakers and band posters and her inherited vinyl and flea market and thrift shop and garage sale and music store trolling gathering.
He had a point. She did miss that too. That part of it – of them – too.
Because it was a space that was so theirs - and so them right now. Playing a record – some of their songs – while they necked on the couch and listened to music and switched out the records and Jay's playlists and stared at the fake fireplace that Jay hated. In a moment that would be made that much better if they could be tugging back a couple pops from whatever craft brewery Jay was partial to that particular moment. But that wasn't a good idea for either of them. Not for the babies either. An addict's genes was enough. Too much already.
And staring at that space in that moment there was a quiet realization too that that little alcove of "them" would only be there so much longer too. They wouldn't want it there by the time the babies were crawling and grabbing and pulling out the records and scratching the vinyl and snatching their phones off the dock or toppling down the speakers and rearranging the sound-bar.
That it was likely only a matter of time before the shelves of records and CDs were replaced with bins to toss toys to try to create the illusion that their living room was neat. To give them a place to sit in the evenings. Only for all that kid and baby stuff to explode all over the space again the next morning.
That that bit of them would be packed up and moved somewhere else. Where in the house – or in boxes and storage – Erin wasn't entirely sure. They'd figure it out. One room at a time. Together.
Because the babies weren't just rearranging their space – THEIR space. It was rearranging their lives. And who they were and how they lived. And how they'd lived. Making space. Or filling the space with something different. Hopefully something better. Something more.
But for now – it was still them. It was still the past them. It was still comforting to be there. Calming. Not her space or his space. Just theirs.
"Maybe …" she conceded looking back to him and reaching to trail her finger tips down his forearm again. "I'm serious, though. I miss you. This. Us."
He gazed at her again. The gaped concern as he weighed that set on his face again. "Me too," he finally admitted. He slipped his arm away a bit and instead laced his fingers through his. "But you'll be home soon. Right."
A statement. But there was the question to it. So she answered. Immediately.
"Yeah," she said. "I will." She shook his hand in hers a bit. "I really am going to give Stone a call. Ask a few questions. And I think I might tell work – Cassidy – soon."
"Yea?" he raised an eyebrow at her.
She nodded and shrugged. "Maybe. I think I should. In the next month or so. Get it out there. Start setting things up. Maybe see if there's a realistic way to get back here before maternity leave."
He gripped at her hand. "I like that idea."
And she held at his too. She gripped it to try to let him feel some of her strength. And to try to feel strong. Or maybe to try to absorb some of the strength that he didn't entirely feel he had these days but that she could still see and feel pulsing below his self-doubt and insecurities. It was still there.
"Only seeing you guys once or twice a month …," he said. "It's going to be hard."
"I know," she acknowledged. "But you're still their dad. You still are going to be a good day."
"We'll just be starting the cop family tradition of absent parents early," Jay muttered.
"There's a difference between working to provide for your family and being absent, Jay," she mouthed quietly.
He gave a little nod but gazed at the little mound under her shirt. "Just feel like I'm going to miss it."
She gave his hand a little shake and tried to lightened the mood. Because she knew he was missing it. And she was missing having him there too. Having his help and his support. Getting to share this in some way. In a way that seemed more natural than what this pregnancy was going to look for them.
But lots of other people dealt with this. If he was still a Ranger, he might've ended up missing all of it. If she was there, he might've been on a big case or long hours and doubles or surveillance or U.C. There could've been weeks – or even months – where it'd feel like they barely saw each other. Like he wasn't much of a help or support. Just ships passing in the night. It happened. Not just cops. Doctors. Shift workers. People working multiple part-time jobs to make ends meet. Pilots. Truckers. It didn't really matter. Life in today's society – today's economy – only let you see each other so much. Share this so much.
He'd be there. She knew he would be. Maybe not as much as either of them would like or in the way they'd like. But they'd make it work. It's what they did.
"What I'm going to miss," she said and gave him a little grin and reached to tug at one of his belt loops on his jeans, "is that you aren't going to be as at my disposal when this predicted pregnancy horniness kicks in."
He smiled and leaned forward to capture her lips again. A longer kiss. A deeper kiss.
"I could get an early start on helping you out with that," he said, backing away to grin it against his mouth just a bit.
"Mmm …," she allowed and found and parted with him again. "You think it works that way?"
"Future deposits," he provided and leaned in a bit.
Erin let him for a minute. Or two. Or a bit more. Because it wasn't exactly that the pregnancy hormones hadn't kicked in yet. Her hormones and sex drive were a little all over the place. And she intended to take advantage of that while she could. While she was with him. Had him there. Before she was the size of a beluga whale. Or it got too uncomfortable or awkward. Or the doctor right out said that she'd reached a point in the pregnancy that they officially had to lay off. Before she had to push two babies out of her body – or had herself cut open to have them pulled out of her. And whatever that did to her … her body and her self-image and how she felt and perceived herself. Before she became a human milk truck. Or was exhausted from sleepiness nights and endless bottles and feedings and laundry and dirty diapers. Before she had to balance two kids and a relationship and a job and the family she already had.
But she backed away again and he again took her in under heavy eyelids. Fatigue of the day and desire of the moment. She knew if she'd let the kiss go on for much longer that he would've manoeuvred them for more. Or she would've. She would've straddled his lap and reached for his fly and waited for him to make his move. To take control and press her back into the couch as he hovered over her. Until he let his weight settle onto her and next to her and more.
"What mean we're done already?" he asked.
And she again found his hand Because they weren't. She hoped not. But she knew the moment they were in was. It wouldn't be them fooling around on in the living room after this. Though, maybe it'd be more. Better or different.
Everything was different now anyway. It had to be. It was going to be. They needed to get used to it. To talk about it. To keep talking about it.
Talk. Fight. Fuck. Hank's over-simplification of marriage and relationships. One that she didn't think he entirely believed. At least not the 'fuck' part.
Her and Jay … they weren't going to fuck that night. They hadn't fucked for a while. She assumed there would be a point in their relationship that they'd just fuck again. That they'd just want to be fucked. That that'd be what they needed in a particular moment. But right then – right now – it wasn't even pregnancy hormones horniness sex and orgasms she wanted. Okay – maybe she did want it. And maybe she more than a little needed it too. But she wanted to get to it – get to getting off – through love making. As … ridiculous as that sounded. And it still ran in her ears as ridiculous. But it wasn't. She knew the kind of sex they needed then. They both needed. And it wasn't on that couch.
"Are you in a place where I can say something that might be a little triggering for you?"
The heavy eyes opened wider and he considered her. He searched for a way to answer and Erin searched if she should even say it. Any of it. So she kept a hold of his hand.
"It's my thing. It's about me," she clarified. Maybe a little too quickly and his forehead against danced with a flashing sign of concern. To her. And she reached and picked at the hem on the sleeve of his Henley. "I just need to tell you something."
"Sure," he allowed softly – more unsurely than she'd like. "What?"
Erin stared between them for a long moment before making her find those eyes of his again. She struggled looking at him in the eyes so much right now. The same light and fire wasn't in them as before. It'd dimmed a lot. She missed his confidence. She even missed some of his rage and anger – and how he directed it. His passion and drive. It seemed more muted lately.
"Umm …" she fumbled looking away before looking at him again. "I need you to … understand …". She sighed hard and really looked at him that time. "That being pregnant is hard for me."
"I know," he said too quickly. Too surely than she'd like. "That's why I hate you're going to be alone in fucking New York."
"It's not that," she interjected and exhaled. She searched for the words to explain it. "It's … before the Voights took me in. Some of the things I had to do. Were done to me …"
And his fingers were suddenly pressing through hers. Laced there and held tight. Joined. And she stared at that. Stared for a long time until she found his eyes again. There was a flicker in them now. He was looking at her. Seeing her. And she was seeing more of him too. The him she loved. And the one she knew loved her. Still. Cared about her.
"Having control over my body has been really important to me, Jay," she said. "And … I just need you to know … to understand … that being pregnant. Right now. I've had some moments where I've really felt out of control of my own body. I am out of control of my own body. I mean," she gestured at her belly. "I've got two human beings growing inside of me."
They were already sending her hormones flying. Her emotions. Basic bodily functions. And she knew it was only going to get worse. As they grew. As she started to feel them move. As her shape and weight changed even more. Her hips and belly and breasts. And ass and thighs. She was afraid she'd feel less and less like herself. Less and less in control. And then she'd be a food truck. And someone's … two people's … mom. And she'd have no personal space or privacy. She'd have some other identity she'd have to live up to. And two people who might cling to her and change her and hug her and need her in ways that she knew she couldn't comprehend as much as she thought she had some idea of what to expect. She also felt like she didn't. About any of it.
"I've been having to compartmentalize a bit," she told him as he held her hand tightly. "And just … keep things in perspective. But I know it's going to get harder, Jay. As I get bigger and they start moving. After they get here. In some ways … I don't know … I feel like … for me … I might be more comfortable with just straight up scheduling a C-section and just … I think I might want to do formula. I don't know if I can …" she waved her hands at her breasts. "I'm having trouble getting my head around that part of it. With one baby …" she shook her head. "But two?"
And he sat there looking at her. And she watched for disapproval. She waited for some kind of argument. For him to tell her she was being selfish – because she already felt that way. Even thinking this. Even trying to work through it. Saying it out loud. For him to tell her if she wasn't ready or comfortable or able to do all that – labor, mother, breastfeeding stuff – then she probably wasn't ready to parent. That she should've said that before. That it should've impacted her decision to have these kids.
But what he said was, "Okay … I know you don't want me to say the 'good guy' stuff. But, Erin, seriously, I'm going to tell you what I'd be telling you when they got here. What I'd be telling you if we were having this conversation a year from now. Two years from now. Last year. And twenty years from now. They – we – need you healthy. For them to be healthy. So … do your thing. You do you."
And she let that sit there for a moment. Between them and in the air of the room. And everything else that week and month and eight months had been. What the past year had been. And the past two years of their relationship. And the nearly five years of this friendship. Their partnership.
"You really are a good guy," she told him.
"Oh yea …," he muttered and sat back in the couch. His hand loosening his grip like he didn't quite believe her. Or maybe he couldn't – wouldn't – quite believe that anymore. Or ever again. Like that wasn't how he was able to perceive himself now.
She sat forward a bit and found his hand again. "Jay," she said a bit more firmly. "You really are amazing. And you're going to be an amazing dad."
"Oh yea …," he muttered again and leaned his free arm on the back of the couch and gazed out the darkened window.
"I mean that," she stressed. "How you're dealing with this. How you dealt with Ethan today. You're giving. You're sacrificing. A problem solver."
He shifted a bit to meet her eyes and she gave him a little smile.
"Ethan adores you."
"Fantastic," he smattered out.
She smiled. "I adore you," she shook at his gripped hand. "You're my best friend. I'm completely in love with you. And these kids are going to be too." She said and pulled his hand to sit there with them. And again he stared at it.
"Jay," she whispered after he just gazed at the bump they'd made together – in the room, the home they'd made together. "You are so giving and sacrificing and such a problem solver, a solution finder for everyone else. On the job. In cases. For me. For Ethan. In all of this already. For them. I just wish you'd … accept you're allowed to be those things for yourself too. It's not just me who needs to be healthy for these two."
He gave her a thin smile. It was weak and a little sad. "I'm trying."
She nodded and she leaned forward to give him a light kiss against caste lips because he didn't open himself to receive anything more. So she settled back a bit from him.
"Or relationship might not have much form right now, Jay. I know we don't look that cool. I know we're a bit of a mess. But, I think we've still got function. As uncomfortable as … the past eight months have been, I'm still comfortable with you. I think we still work. That this will work. So, I just want you to know … I'm not going to be giving up on you. Or this. On what we've got."
She leaned in and kissed him again – watching him as she did, both of them going near cross-eyed.
"So, you just keep doing you too, babe," she said – staring into his puppy-dog gaze. The wounded boy and the wounded man. But a man – a real man, a strong one – all the same.
And she went in again and kissed him. And that time he did open his lips to hers. His arms came up around her. And they stayed together. And it felt nice. It felt good. It felt right.
AUTHOR NOTE:
Reads, reviews, comments and feedback are appreciated.
Next chapter here will either be a Voight POV at the hospital with Ethan and Maggie (possibly Manning and/or Will) in the scene too. Or a Platt POV with Ethan and likely an appearance by Voight and possibly Woods.
Again, still wanting to go back and work on Hereafter. Still thinking about starting a new story that jumps ahead bit to the spring.
I've had some people ask if there's media and characters that shows M.S. some that does is West Wing, The Circle (movie), Trainwreck (movie), Ten Days in the Valley. But they're all adults. And the one where it's most explored/mentioned is West Wing, and I think it's the relapsing/remitting kind, not the progressive that Ethan has.
I've had some PMs and comments asking about the twins' names. And, yes, they are getting narrowed down. But I don't think I'm going to share them until they get bestowed on the kids. Though, I might share a shortened list at some point. But, again, it's more about finding names that fit the personalities I'm sort of still working out that these little people would grow into.