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.
Jay held out a piece of tape on his finger watching Erin's so fucking exact folds and creases she was making to the gift she was currently wrapping. To every fucking gift they'd wrapped thus far. And, as much as Jay could appreciate precision, he wasn't sure this was a circumstance that really necessitated it. Not when it came to wrapping a few presents for a fourteen-year-old and a two-year-old boy. But all he was really thinking was: Nurture.
Eth's description of how Hank wrapped presents was playing out right in front of him. And it wasn't Hank who was sitting in front of him. But clearly another person he'd raised – and rubbed off on. Another point going into the 'nurture' column of just how kids turn out the way they turn out as adults.
Erin glanced up from her slow work to swipe the tape off his finger but gave him a look. One of those looks.
"What?" she demanded.
"Nothing," Jay muttered.
She stared at him – almost glared at him. "My wrapping presents is that funny?"
Jay realized that he was likely grinning a little too much at her. But that comment didn't help it. He grinned a little bit more.
"Eth was just telling me about how Voight wraps presents," he said.
She made a sound – another nurtured sound – and looked back to her work, smoothing that piece of tape into place with several finger swipes. Finger swipes that looked a little too good. Ones that Jay sort of wished were being laid across other places rather than wrapping paper and tape and gifts for her baby brother and nephew. Ones that would lead them back to what they'd been doing earlier rather than sitting here working on last minute chores to keep the peace on Christmas morning.
But he just tore off another near perfect one-inch strip of tape and once again held out his finger waiting for her to retrieve it. Which she did.
"He also told me that Hank only lets him be the human tape dispenser too."
She gave him a glance from her work. "His hands," she muttered. "He's tremoring a lot right now."
Jay allowed a quiet acknowledgement of that as he readied the next piece. "And what's the reasoning me for getting the same job?"
Her eyebrow raised at him. "Awww," she sassed at him. "It's because you're such a good house-husband."
And Jay raised his eyebrow right back at her for that one. Because he was having none of that. He was just waiting for her to decide to float – or spit right out – that he'd make a much better house husband than she would a housewife. Which she had a point on.
Erin wasn't exactly a cooking, cleaning, errand-running, laundry-doing type. Even getting her to keep things wiped-down and tidy and keeping more than condiments stocked in the fridge seemed like it was asking a little much of her. A reality that had again reared its head with her living in New York. Every time he visited her there it was clear that she hadn't bothered to clean the apartment or she'd loosely attempted to move some stuff around to try to hide the mess when he'd called her to let her know his flight had landed and he'd be there within the hour. But even getting that seemed like special treatment. It was for the visits where something else had precipitated the trip beyond just seeing her. Like him shooting a little girl.
But Jay knew that even if he excelled a bit more at keeping house – or helping keep house, or just having a fucking sense of cleanliness, taught by time in the military and a childhood where he had more than helped his mom with the house to try to help her from having to deal with his dad having too many drinks in him and getting too in her face about something not being placed just so in the imagined spot and way he'd left it. He wouldn't be happy being a house-husband, though. Just like Erin wouldn't be a very good housewife. Neither of them would make great stay-at-home parents.
They were both going to need to have something more than … this. Some part of their identity. Something they were good at beyond being parents (if they were even going to be particularly good at that). They were just going to keep something to escape from a life of kids and kid talk and family stuff. As good as some of that sounded, and some of it might really be, it also just didn't really sound like them. Like either of them.
Maybe that'd change. Maybe after the kids got there they'd have some sort of raging motivation to stay home and be at home as much as possible. Like those people who said that they never went out anymore or wanted to hang out or go for a drink or maintain any kind of social life that didn't involve their kids and other couples with kids. The ones that said it was because their kids were the only people in the world they really wanted to spend time with. That they enjoyed spending time with them. That they were their favorite people to spend time with. That they loved hanging out with them.
And Jay only bought that bullshit so much. He heard it. And part of him wanted to believe it. Maybe part of him did believe it could be them. Because there had been that whole period in his and Erin's relationship where they did just spend a lot of their off-duty hours hanging out with her family – and with Eth. And Jay could appreciate that point. Because he had definitely had moments where he'd really enjoyed hanging out with Erin's little brother. That he looked forward to it. To the opportunities it provided. And the unexpected conversations and activities and moments it lead to. And just the routine and stability and togetherness it bred. Stupidly simple little things that made off-time seem more structured and manageable and enjoyable. Something to look forward to rather than to find ways to fill up. To take more shifts and OT and doubles so it just didn't happen. He could see what there was to like about having a weekend dinner at Hank's. About there being things like barbecues and beach days and camping trips and fishing trips and zoo trips and museum trips … and fucking grocery trips to every type of store in the Little Village … being worth looking forward. The same way that helping with chores around Voight's place – and completing them around their own place – hadn't seemed that bad when it was time with Erin. And there was a beer waiting. And a meal. And sun on Hank's back deck – or better up on his and Erin's roof-top wannabe terrace.
So maybe they weren't lying with those lines. But another part of him knew they were. That what was really keeping them home was exhaustion after pulling a double and then going home to do those chores and to have kids screaming around the house and to then do battle to get them to bed. That their evenings and weekends were filled with homework and Little League and swimming lessons and piano lessons. That they didn't have the time – or money – left for them to do things like go out to dinner or a drink or … whatever people in their 30s with a young family did. Because it sure seemed like people in their 30s with young kids mostly just tried to keep their sanity, provide for their family, and hold their relationship together enough that they weren't getting divorced until the kids were old enough to really hold it against them that they were.
And even though that was one way of looking at it – he also had that other feeling. That one where he knew that … he'd got a preview of what raising a kid – or at least helping to raise a kid – looked like. And their had been a whole lot of homework and playing taxi service and ball games and sitting in stands and early mornings and late nights … and fucking sleepiness nights with Eth. There'd been a lot of moments where he'd felt like the kid being a part of Erin's life meant that he was running second fiddle. That her baby brother had more implications on them having time for them – and a relationship – than the fucking job did. That time where they could be sitting at Molly's or doing … whatever cop couples did, which he still wasn't really sure was, because it'd seemed like when Erin's family was taken out of the equation about all they'd known what to do with themselves was drink and fuck. But even with the negative implications that maybe it'd had on their relationship – it'd also built their relationship. And there were a lot of fun moments – happy moments – in doing that fucking mundane shit involved in just helping a kid … grow up. Maybe grow up a bit better – a bit happier – than either of them had.
So maybe there was truth to the whole hanging out with family thing. Hanging out with your kids thing. That maybe it'd be better than he expected. Maybe it'd be … really good. For him. For them. Both of them.
But Jay still knew that neither of them could function as stay-at-home parents. That would likely be the nail in the coffin of them trying to establish – maintain – their relationship. He didn't even know how Erin would manage the first bit stuck at home with two babies. How much time she'd actually get off through the D.A.'s office – if she was still staffed there when the twins arrived. But even if they gave her a decent amount of time, he wasn't sure she'd want to take months off. But he also wasn't sure how the managed and afforded daycare or some kind of babysitter for two kids. For years.
He kind of wished Erin had more female friends. Who had kids. Better – more female cop friends who had kids. Or some kind of law enforcement. Someone who could talk to her about how to deal with this stuff. Or who she could talk to. Because he knew men wouldn't have the same perspective. He knew it wouldn't be the same experience. Jay didn't even really know who to talk to himself about any of it. He didn't exactly have a large friend group. And the people in it hadn't really started breeding yet.
And asking most cops and vets and military about raising a family usually resulted in the same kind of comments or stories. It wasn't the sort of thing that got talked about at work. At work it was either comments depicting some sort of pride on your kids' achievements. Or it was bitching about how fucking annoying the kids and wife were. It was being macho and chauvinist. And as much as he knew he could sometimes fall into that category – he didn't.
Not when it came to Erin. And he didn't think it would with his own kids either. He'd kept his mouth shut about Erin on the job – because it'd made good sense. Because it was respectful. And he hadn't said a peep to anyone about Eth on the job ever. Even when Ruzek and Atwater had both sort of prodded in that direction like he was some C.I. for them to collect personal intel about how Voight ticked. But that was a fucking betrayal on multiple levels – Hank, Erin and Eth himself. Not matter how much the kid played at his patience or just worked as a fucking cock-block, he didn't discuss it at work. Eth deserved more than that. He was a good kid. Even if he was a lot of fucking work.
He couldn't talk to Voight about it. He wouldn't anyway. But even if he wanted to, Hank had a vested interest. His daughter. His grandkids. The advice would be more about Erin than … what Jay thought he needed to hear.
He didn't know how to talk to Al about it. The guy had fucked up his marriage. And now it was an even more gapping sore point. And 'Tonio? Jay had a lot of respect there. But that whole situation hadn't exactly worked out either. Not with his wife and not with his relationship with his kids.
And even if he figured out who or how to talk to anyone about any of this – there was that whole other factor. Twins. Two babies at once. A boy and a girl. And even though he kept trying to tell himself that it wouldn't be that complicated – it sure fucking felt like it was going to be.
"Don't even start," he put back to Erin, though. "Or I'll start telling you how your father figure is showing over there."
She made a small amused sound. She didn't argue the point. Because she likely knew the truth in the statement – or was starting to accept it – as much as she didn't like it. Voight had rubbed off on her. In a lot of ways. But he was pretty sure Hank's wife had too. And Ethan. They'd shaped her a lot. That Erin had a seven year practice run in mothering. And she'd had fourteen-plus years in training and experience on how to be a big sister. Authority figure and ball buster and the shoulder to cry on and hand out hugs and tickles wars while telling you off and fighting with you worse than him and Will had ever managed – all in the same three minute time span. She was likely way more ready for all this than him. More made for it than him.
"If I let you wrap everything would be under the tree still be in the plastic bags we bought them in," she said.
Jay shrugged. "I might've invested in some decorative holiday bags to place said plastic bags inside of," he nodded. "I might have even killed some extra trees with some frivolous tissue paper to make it look all pretty."
"Oooooh," Erin mouthed at him and gave him a smile. "They're kids. They still like unwrapping stuff."
"Eth likes unpacking his stocking just fine," Jay said and handed her the next piece of tape. "Nothing wrapped in there."
She snatched the tape off his finger and gave him a look. "And haven't you been busting Hank's balls and putting ideas with Ethan's head about how lazy Santa is in our house with the unwrapped stocking stuffers?"
He gave her a little grin and readied the next piece of tape. "That exclusively impacts Hank's Christmas duties. Nothing to do with us."
"Right," Erin muttered. "Like he needs more on his plate."
He gazed at her. "He's not actually planning on wrapping the stocking stuff, is he?"
Erin shrugged. "I doubt it. Got told if that's what we're planning for stockings in the future, we're on our own."
Jay made a little sound but stared at her working on the package and then the plastic bag sitting at the end of the table with the few stocking stuffers they – or she – had picked up for Eth and Henry and Olive. It still looked like it was more than Hank's ordered – one or two things, if you do anything. But things had been kept more in check than last year.
That was likely a good thing. But it likely betrayed just how much neither of them were really feeling that into Christmas that year.
Jay wondered how they'd – he'd – feel about Christmas next year. It wasn't like the twins would be old enough yet to have much of a clue about what was going on. They'd only be six or seven months, if they arrived in the time frame the doc was speculating on. But even them being there would be enough to change things for him and Erin. They'd have to start thinking about traditions and routines and … just what they wanted their family to look like. At holidays. What his experiences and memories would bring to it. And what hers would too.
And he was … they were … just going to have to hope that adding the twins would be the only big change for the next Christmas. And, really, if Eth was still around he'd likely be wanting to share and pass on – and force on them – the Voight family traditions he'd grown up with. Though those had been changing too. He knew from what Erin had said that Christmas didn't look the way it had when Voight's wife was still alive. And he knew last year had been different for the family too with Justin gone. That this year Eth's limitations – Erin being away and the still shifting and settling family dynamic – meant that things were different again.
And Jay didn't know if that would make things easier or harder. Better or worse. He really wasn't sure what the day was going to look like. But he did know it didn't exactly feel like Christmas. But he was used to that. He'd had years and years of that. He didn't think Christmas had ever really felt the way it was supposed to for him anyway. Though, he'd thought he'd gotten some taste of it in that first Christmas he'd spent over at Erin's dad's place. But that was the past now. A whole lot had changed since then.
Jay's phone buzzed and he reached to tilt it up to look at the text.
"The job?" Erin asked.
He made a sound and started to key in a response. "Upton …," he muttered. He was about to tell her it was nothing. Yet. But then it was her phone buzzing.
"Going to be Hank telling me he needs me to go keep Eth company?" she asked, as she reached for it.
Jay hit reply. "He has me on ass-duty. So, if he is going in, unless he says otherwise, I can likely come and keep you both company."
Erin made a small sound, though, and started keying a response into her own phone. "He's taking Eth over to Med." Jay stared at her but she only shrugged. "Wouldn't be Christmas without Ethan putting in time at the hospital."
"What's wrong?" he pressed.
She shook her head and put the phone down. "He's fussing about Ethan's port," she said and looked at him. "He thinks the skin looks too red and feels too warm."
"Isn't that because they forgot to remind the nurse about his sensitivity to the adhesive?"
She just shrugged. "He doesn't seem to think so. He mentioned that he might take Eth over tonight."
Jay glanced at his watch. "It's 11:30," he provided.
She just exhaled and put the phone back down, going back to the present wrapping.
"Did you want to go meet them?" he offered.
She shook her head. "It's not exactly an emergency situation. They'll be there a while."
"Something must've happened for him to decide to drag him over at this time of night," Jay said.
"Maybe," she said. "Or he's just not sleeping or is clawing at it and Hank wants to get it checked out before Christmas."
"In the thirty minutes remaining before Christmas," he said.
She allowed him a little smile. "In thirty minutes it's only Christmas Eve … day."
"Christmas Eve Night," Jay corrected. "Or Christmas Eve Very Early Morning." She raised an eyebrow at that. And he shrugged. "Well …"
She shook her head at him. "I'll check in on them in a bit. Hank's so good at texting back and keeping me in Eth's medical loop."
"One of his specialities," Jay allowed, as she pushed away the present she'd finished and reached to retrieve the next one. She then shifted her attention to scanning the paper to pick which pattern should be used next. "We might end up having to head over," Jay told her as she pulled out a roll and started measuring it against the box to cut a piece.
"What'd Upton say?"
He shrugged a bit. "If she's smart she'll call Voight," he said. "Pill mill thing we've been following. Hailey thinks she's found an in."
"Pharm and the holidays," Erin muttered. "Go hand-in-hand."
"Whatever gets you through," Jay said.
And she gave him a firm look. Too much of an examination. So he reached for the scissors to cut the piece she'd folded off. Pills weren't his thing. Right now.
"I told her to call him," he said. "Let him make the call on if he wants to start a U.C. or – end up staring through a one-way over the weekend."
"Sounds like she wants to be looking for a way to be on that side of Christmas," Erin said, as he pushed the piece of paper over to her.
"Don't know," he said.
There was a lot he still didn't know about Upton. And the ways she operated. The baggage she carried. She did a good job at trying to make it seem like she was above any of that. But Jay didn't exactly believe you ended up off a major U.C. assignment with a meritorious promotion to detective, landing yourself in Homicide and then Intelligence, without having baggage. She just did one of Eth's holier-than-thou acts when it came to ethics and morals and standards on the way she thought this job should be done. He figured – he was trying to convince himself – that it was only going to be a matter of time before he got to tell her she'd been spending a lot of time throwing stones at glass houses. Everyone's got skeletons. No one in Chicago – with any length of time in CPD – was squeaky clean. The longer he was on the job dirtier he felt. Even if he was good police. Jay actually thought the better police you were the dirtier you ended up feeling.
"Hopefully she let's us get this done before her perfect policing has shit hitting the fan," Erin mumbled.
Jay gazed at her – watching her make the initial folds to get the box wrapped. He could feel the distaste in her statement. But he knew that Christmas was proving stressful enough. And there was already enough chance that the day would be getting derailed without Upton finding some case to get them all on that might pull everyone away from their families. One of the few days a year – maybe the only day of the year – that Voight really seemed to try to ensure everyone got to be somewhere other than on a scene or in a surveillance van. Though, Jay got the impression most people in Intelligence these days were just looking for excuses to pile on as many hours and as much distraction as work could provide. It wasn't exactly like the team was brimming with family situations right now. Jay was pretty sure most of them wouldn't mind working Christmas Day. Maybe he wouldn't either. But he also hoped for Erin's sake – for Ethan's sake – that Hailey and Woods and the fucking populace of Chicago would let them have the next thirty-six hours without incident that required him and Voight leaving the house.
"He's going to like this," Erin muttered at him as she reached for a piece of tape. One that wasn't waiting for her and he snapped out of his thoughts to rip off a piece and hand it to her.
He stared at the Escape the Room in a box game that he'd spotted and grabbed for Eth. The kid had been talking about wanting to do an Escape Room for as long as Jay had known him. He'd lamented about the cost. He'd lamented about other kids doing some in the city and 'ruining' it for him. About the rich kids at his school getting to host parties there. About his former 'friend' Evan not inviting him when he went but taking kids – his new friends – from his new school and new able-bodied baseball team.
They hadn't taken Eth. Jay didn't know why. Maybe because it was a little pricey for them to just hit it up as something to do on any given Sunday. And there'd been other things that him and Erin had pooled together on at birthdays and Christmas. Other little schemes and traditions and routines they'd picked up with Eth that made more sense. That had more replay value.
And now they likely wouldn't ever take him to one of the things. You had to book so far out. And finding a 'good' day with Eth was hard enough. Trying to predict it weeks out? That was just stupid. It'd be money down the drain. Not to mention him standing and seeing and thinking clearly enough to do the puzzles in the things. In a short window of time. Jay had seen how much Eth had struggled that day with going to a fucking movie. Taking him out for an even mildly physical activity just … didn't seem realistic. It was asking and expecting too much. It felt like it was putting pressure on the kid too. Or setting him up for frustration and disappointment.
It'd been a train of thought – a wall he kept hitting – whenever he strained to come up with an idea, a contribution, towards Eth's Christmas that year. Jay really hadn't known what to get the kid. Not with everything that was going on with him. The laser tag and paint ball gift certificates from the last couple years didn't make sense. Not for Eth and Jay wasn't sure it did for him either. Not right now. It didn't sound like activities he really wanted to be participating in his free time.
Really any idea he came up with just didn't seem to make sense. Not that he'd come up with many ideas or thought about it much. But neither had Erin really. She seemed just as stalled – as reluctant – about Christmas as him.
But Jay understood. Gifts – and giving – only mattered so much. Especially in situations like this. Fucking complicated situations.
Things not getting derailed. Eth getting to have his day that he wanted with the family was really the only gift – thing – the kid needed and wanted. The rest of it didn't matter. Not really. Erin being there with him did. The kid having his dad and nephew there did. That'd be the take away from this year.
If things went south in the coming weeks or months. That's what people would remember. What'd they say. That at least they were there. At least they were together.
"What's the plan for tomorrow?" Jay asked.
Erin shrugged and kept working on the gift. "Guess that depends on what happens at Med tonight."
Jay gave a little nod and reached to pull over the plastic bag with the stocking stuffers. "At least need to run this by for Hank," he said and went to gaze in. But Erin's hand darted across the table and grabbed it back. He gave her a look.
"Don't be nosy," she said.
He raised an eyebrow and gave the bag a little teasing tug. "My present in there?"
She yanked it harder and out of his grip. He got a more warning look that time.
He gazed at her but then got up from the table. And she sighed heavily.
"Jay," she hissed. "C'mon … it's for-"
He cast her a look before starting to jog up the stairs. "I just am grabbing something."
And he went up to their bedroom and stood at his closet. He let out a slow breath and then shoved aside some of his tshirts to retrieve the gift he'd hidden behind them up on the shelf.
Erin stared at him as he came back down the stairs. Curiosity and concern on her face.
"It's not wrapped," he said of the gift behind his back.
She gestured at the paper – like he was an idiot.
He tilted his head at her. "I want to give it to you now. Not in front of everyone."
She stared at him again. She arced her eyebrow. "A box with a new outfit? You sure it's my size these days?"
"Har, har," he put to her and pulled his hand from behind his back, holding it out to her and watching her eyes set on the wooden box. The memory box. "You mentioned Camille had one." She didn't reach to take it. "I thought … maybe you might want to start one. Now."
Her eyes went up to his and her hands finally dropped away from her creasing and folding and taping and took it. She clearly wasn't expecting it to be as heavy as it was and her arms briefly drooped against the weight.
She set it on the table in front of her and ran her hand over the top. Looking at the deep mahogany and the deep etches that had engraved a tree with its roots spilling over and down the sides of it.
"It's …," she shook her head and looked up at him. "Beautiful," she provided – lightly and carefully. Maybe she didn't like it. Or it wasn't as much of a thing for her as he thought it might be. Or that things just didn't feel right enough for now to be the time. But he watched her and her fingers stayed firm in their play against the roots of the engraving.
"I put a couple things in it for you," he said. "As a start."
She gave him a thin smile and stared at the brass latch for a moment. But then her fingers were there and it was flipped loose and the lid lifted up. And her eyes set on the velvet matted photo ovals on that side of the lid. The spots – where for now – he'd slide in the sonograms for the babies. And she stared at those too. Her fingers reaching and caressing there before giving him another - a bit bigger – little smile. But Jay only nodded into the contents of the box.
Not much for now. Not much yet. But a promise of a future. He hoped. The one she was working at getting him to hope for too.
Her eyes stayed on that photo in there. It wasn't the best photo. Of them. He knew there were other ones. Better ones. That this one was just something that someone had snapped on their phone. He thought maybe Burgess. And she'd sent it off to them.
It was back when they were on the job. Together. When they were partners. Before everything had changed. And they looked younger and happier. And not nearly as broken as he felt now. She looked lighter too. Even though he could see some of the hurt and pain and brokenness in her eyes to. But not like it was now. Instead it just looked like they were on a lunch break. That they were in their element. That they were a couple. One that was working.
He liked that photo. He liked that memory that he couldn't exactly pinpoint. But he liked the memory – the feeling he had – of the people they were then. How they'd made it work then even when life was still spitting his mettle at them. But they'd been able to smile then. To be comfortable with each other.
He liked that photo. And he thought Erin did too. Because he watched as she reached to lift it out of the box – to give him another smile. One that looked a bit more like in that photo.
And he watched how she stopped as she drew it up. As she looked at what was under it. And she gaped and looked at him. Her face creased with more question and bigger surprise.
Jay sat back down at the table and gazed at her. He hadn't prepared anything to say. And he likely should've. Some kind of little speech. But he wasn't so good at those.
"I just …" and he stopped and stared at her some more. And she stared right back. "I thought you should be the one holding onto those now," he said of the wedding bands that he'd bought and then hidden from her and than refused to slip on either of their fingers in the spring. When he'd told her she wasn't the person he wanted to marry anymore. But now …
Now things were different. And she wasn't who she was in the spring. She wasn't who she was in the spring. And she wasn't who she was when he'd fallen in love. But she was someone he needed and wanted. And wanted to be with. And to be there for. He was still in love. Even in all the pain and the hurt and the fear.
"I don't know if … I'm remotely close to the man you want to marry—"
"You are," Erin interrupted.
"Erin, I'm not the person I was …"
"Neither am I," she said. "But I still want us to be a family. I still want us to keep working at this."
Jay gave a small nod. "Then … I guess … when you think it might work …" he said and nodded at them.
"Jay …," she sighed raggedly at him. And he just sat there staring at her. Because he didn't know what to say.
He loved her. She was his best friend too. He wanted to be there for her. And for the babies. He wanted this to work too. He liked the idea of them being a family. Even though it scared the shit out of him. But he was trying. He was really fucking trying. But he was struggling to find his way and to express any of that. Or anything.
She reached and grabbed the bag that she'd snatched back from him and dug through it for a moment until she held out a little bag at him.
"Open it," she ordered.
He reached and took it. He pulled the little strings back and shoved his thumb inside, digging out its contents. He dragged a little metal capsule that was already tarnished and battered. A clear antique but before he even opened it he knew it was a compass. A compass that had already been well travelled. He flipped it over in his hand. And looked at engraved longitude and latitude there – etched in a way that gave away they were never by their shine.
"It's here," Erin told him. "This house." He gave her a little smile. "Open it," she nodded again.
And he did. And stared again at an engraving that clearly wasn't new. It was smudged with age and worry of a thumb likely pressing across it over the years. So You May Always Find Your Way Home it said.
"To help you find your way," Erin mouthed at him quietly and then reached into the box and handed the rings back to him again, setting them on the table in front of him. "Jay, this year has taught me … a lot. But the biggest lesson was … is … that you're home for me. This is home for me. So you let me know when you get here too. And then – give these to me again. I don't need to hold them for safe keeping. I just need you to be ready to come home."
And he stared at those rings. And the compass. And her. And it all was right there. It felt so fucking close. But still so fucking far to travel.