Hailey's POV
I don't remember falling asleep, but when I wake up it's dark outside. The whole apartment is silent. Little by little reminiscences of what happened when we returned from the hospital comes back. I remember feeling like I was suffocating and the ceiling and walls were closing in on me. I remember running to the bathroom, turning on the hot water, and letting it cascade over me. After that my recollection is blurry, the memories in pieces, drifting tatters of thought; broken images that I don't know for sure if they are real or just dreams. Jay must have taken me out of the shower, changed my clothes – God, he probably saw all the bruising.
I feel hollowed out, riven, as if I just surfaced after too long under water. There's a storm in my head, weighing down on my brain, pushing all the thoughts out through my head. All except for the shame and the guilt. Closing my eyes, I wait a moment, drawing in a ragged deep breath and letting it out slowly.
"Hey," Jay's voice pulls me from my thoughts – a soothing balm over the raw frayed ends of my nerves. "Thought I heard you waking up."
I look up and calm, warm eyes stare into mine. He is standing by the door, wearing a pair of drawstring sweats riding low on his hips and a gray t-shirt. He gives me a shy, lopsided smile that makes him look young. Almost boyish. Suddenly, I become aware of the dull ache in my heart, which is growing sharper and more intense by the second.
"How are you feeling?" He asks.
"Not great," I tell him truthfully. Jay sees right through me like a plate-glass window.
"Do you mind if I sit?"
I nod and pat the empty spot next to me on the bed. Like a dutiful child, he comes, slipping beneath the sheets beside me, leaning back against the pillows. Love. The emotion that radiates from him is love. Something else lingers there too, maybe hope. I gently pull his arm around me, and lay my head on his chest quietly listening to his heartbeat. His hair is wet from a shower and the fresh smell of my soap on him reaches my nose.
Jay pulls me close and leans into me as well. I feel his lips, a gentle touch on the crown of my head. The sweetness of the kiss almost makes me cry. I close my eyes and tuck my head beneath his chin. "I'm sorry about earlier," I say. "I want you to know that it's not you. It has nothing to do with you." I nuzzle his neck, kissing his shoulder to prove the point. "I don't know what happened actually. I was fine until I wasn't. I… couldn't breath," I say at a loss as to how to explain the sudden terror that had overcome me.
He rubs his chin back and forth over the top of my head. "You had a panic attack," he says softly.
I nod and sniff back tears. "A panic attack? That's just—"
"There's just a lot that probably feels and looks different and unfamiliar right now. Your brain is just on high alert, that's all." He tilts his head so that his nose, his cheek brush across my hair. "I've had my fair share of panic attacks too. They are the worse."
"Yeah?"
He presses his lips into my hair again. "Yeah. I had them all the time when I came back from Afghanistan." Lifting my head, I look straight into his eyes. His words come slowly. "I remember one evening at home when I was by myself watching television. I was safe. There was no obvious trigger and I felt completely relaxed. Then out of nowhere, I felt the four walls of my living room closing in around me. I couldn't breath and felt like I was literally dying," he says softly, sounding vulnerable and sincere. He lifts a strand of my hair and sifts his fingers through it. "That's the thing about panic attacks. Sometimes your mind can play tricks on you. Even when you think you're in no danger, your brain might be feeling differently."
"How do I make them stop?" I ask.
Jay rubs my back and tries to sooth me. "There are a few different ways, and you need to find out what works for you. Therapy helped me with that. Helped recognize the triggers and put a stop to it before it got bad."
I nod. "What worked for you?"
"Deep breathing, finding a focus point, and exercising." He smiles, and brushes a few runaway tears from my cheeks with the tips of his fingers. I lean back against him and let him draw my head to his chest, and he holds me tightly. "It takes time, but you learn to recognize when a panic attack is about to begin. You start to pay attention to the tingling sensation, the shortness of breath, and the disconnection from the real life around you."
"Yeah, I felt all that."
"I know."
We sit together for quite a long time, Jay speaking softly to me. He opens up about his time in Afghanistan and what ensued when he returned. Then he tells me about his mother and how her death pushed him into a downhill spiral that nearly killed him. His vulnerability—and his pain—touches me at a deep level. I take his bandaged hand and hold it, wanting him to know I'm listening and that I appreciate what he is doing. I brush my fingers over the hard calluses, note the strength in his hand. Jay's a tough guy, probably the toughest guy I know, yet so gentle and tender. Wired through the heart, like Voight says.
"Hey..." He pulls back slightly and I angle my head to see him better. "I want to apologize to you too," he says and there's a new strain in his voice. "I'm sorry if at any point I made you feel like you were letting me down somehow. I know there are things you rather not tell me or that it might be easier to share with someone else. It was selfish or me to expect you to come only to me."
I nod, taking deep breathes, fighting against the way my heart is slamming in my chest.
"Just know that you can never let me down."
We go silent, sitting in the dimly lit room for the next few minutes, both comfortable enough with each other that we don't need to fill the space with words. For the first time in a while, I feel calm and relaxed, as if a huge weight is lifting from my shoulder. I don't feel like I am walking on egg shells and my stomach is not tied in knots. I feel like I can finally breath again.
After a while, I speak very softly, finally breaking the silence. "Did you change my clothes?"
"I did. Sorry. I just couldn't let you keep the wet clothes on. I was scared you might catch a cold or something."
"No, it's okay. Thank you," I say, then after a moment I add, "Does it looks as bad as it seems?"
He takes a deep breath before speaking and I can hear the effort he is putting into holding his temper. I hear the heartbeat in his chest pick up the pace. "There's a lot of deep bruising on your torso, which coincides with the two broken ribs. The ones on your arms and face are fading already, turning slightly yellowish green. Your thighs…" He pauses. A beat of silence hangs over, then his voice comes softly, "The bruising is deep purple, reddening in the center. I'm surprised the skin didn't break."
I unconsciously run a hand over my legs, wincing at the sharp pain that spears me. I don't remember how I got them – I know how, but there's a gaping hole in my memory, a black bottomless pit that has sucked away any recollections of it.
"Hey…" He gently nudges me. "The bruises will fade. All the physical stuff will heal in time. Therapy will help with the rest." He pauses and I know where he is going with this. "Have you made an appointment yet?"
I nod. "I'm going to see Dr. Charles tomorrow."
"That's good." He gently squeezes my shoulder and kisses my hair once more. "Tell me when and I will drive you."
I pull away from Jay's chest and look at him – my partner, my boyfriend, my best friend. He smiles lazily as his eyes search mine. I lean in and peck his lips. He kisses me back and gently fans his fingertips over my cheek. He tastes like mint, his lips familiar, smooth, and warm against mine. Then it's like the world goes away. Nothing matters but the touch of his lips on mine.
I pull back after a moment and he runs the pads of his fingers down my face, pulling me close enough that our foreheads touch. "I love you and nothing can ever change that, and nothing will ever change that."
At the look in his eyes and the passion in his voice, everything in me crumbles away, the anger and the grief and the hurt. I just nod in response because I can't form words at the moment. My eyes fill with tears again, the big quiet kind that just keep forming and spilling over.
He pulls his forehead back and brushes my hair from my face. He looks my entire face over and kisses my forehead. "I hope you won't get sick of hearing it, because that's all that comes to mind when I see you. And I will continue to remind you."
"I love you too, more than you'll ever know."
Jay smiles and lifts my hand to his lips to kiss it. Then he puts its it back down and changes the subject to my growling stomach, "You hungry?"
Jay's POV
The first couple of weeks at home was difficult. Hailey oscillated between all sorts of emotions – anger, sadness, guilty – sort of like a basket case, for lack of a better term. But slowly things began to even out for her and the panic attacks stopped coming, though not entirely. When her furlough ended, she was more than happy to return to work. The girl was going stir crazy. Even though Voight put her on desk duty, the smile on her face was unmatched.
Her smile.
Have you ever watched the sun come up with the brilliant colors that sweep across the horizon? You get warm and fuzzy, and you know that life is as it should be. That very moment, you don't want to be anywhere else but there, and you're sure everything will be okay; that's her smile. It lights up a room and warms my insides. Her smile is locked in my heart; the image is etched in my mind.
We celebrate her return with drinks at Molly's and for the first time in a while, I hear her laugh — a full, open, belly laugh. The kind of laugh that is so contagious, you find yourself laughing too. I stay in the background and just watch her. I've missed her so much and seeing glimpses of her return has been the highlight of the last couple of weeks. It's moments like these that I begin to think crazy thoughts, like putting a ring on her finger crazy.
"She looks good," Will says, taking a seat next to me. "Your hand not so much. I told you to keep the brace on for at least a week."
"My hand is fine," I say and take a swig off my beer. "And yes, Hailey is good."
After a beat, Will says, "You got that look in your eye."
"What look? I don't have a look."
"You love her, don't you?"
"Of course, I do. It's not a secret, you know?"
"I bet you're thinking of doing something stupid," he says, as if reading my mind – or emotion, or whatever.
"What if I am?" I throw a bottle top at him. "It's not like you haven't popped the question before."
"Yeah. Look how that turned out." Will laughs and ducks as another bottle cap sails past his head. "But I think you should do it. I have a good feeling about you two. You've been through so much together, seen each other at your worse…Put a ring on it before she comes to her senses."
This time the bottle cap hits him square on the forehead. "You don't think it's too soon."
"Maybe, but why wait when you know she's the one?"
I nod and we clink our bottle together, taking a long drink.
I don't know if it's the alcohol, but the idea is taking root inside my head, and the more I think about it, the more I'm convinced I should. Like Will said, why wait when I know she's it for me. Why not make it official? As if sensing she's being watched, her blue eyes meet mine across the room and I'm rewarded with one of her megawatt smiles that makes me feel like I'd been showered in light. Slipping off her stool, she excuses herself, walks over to me, climbs on my lap, and hooks her arms around my neck. Her eyes are sparkling and slightly glazed from all the drinks. Sometimes it seems surreal that she's mine. That she really loves me back.
"So…" Her hair is hanging loosely around her face as she leans over me. I tuck it behind her ears so I can see her face. My arms circle her waist, holding her securely. "You having fun?"
"Loads," she says giggling. She pulls herself even closer to me and I can feel her as if her body is glowing. "Do you want to get out of here?" She asks.
I raise an eyebrow, her words causing my pulse to race and a chill to run down my arms. "I'll do whatever you want to do. It's your party."
"I think…" She blows a strand of hair out of her face, then tucks behind her ears. Her breath tickles my ear as she whispers, "I want to get out of here."
I nod. She doesn't have to ask twice.
We go back to my apartment and we can't seem to make it very far without one of us ending up pinned against a wall. We make love and it's tender, slow, sweet, warm, and loving. It all feels different, special, sweeter. I've had never felt so connected to anyone, and frankly, it scares me. In a way I feel like I'm no longer a separate entity from Hailey, but rather an extension, and every second I spend with her makes me more aware of this fact.
We lay together and hold each other as we enjoy the afterglow, gently kissing and holding each other tight, neither one speaking. After a few minutes, Hailey releases her arms from around my neck and says, "What are you thinking about."
I roll on my side and prop myself on my elbow. My eyes meet her and I pull away strands of her hair that are stuck to her face with sweat. "Would you marry me?" Completely taken aback, Hailey's mouth moves wordlessly for a few seconds. "Hypothetically," I add to soften the question.
"Oh, uh…I-I…" Her eyes glaze over and she gives me a soft smile. "Yes," she answers, then buries her face in a pillow. "Hypothetically."
I hear her laugh, I feel like laughing, too. I pull her up and kiss her nose. "Okay," I say, smiling so big, it feels like my face is splitting in two. "I will keep that in mind."
"Um-hmm." She takes my face in her hands and we kiss deeply.
We make love again – to celebrate our hypothetical engagement.
x
Time heals all wounds, so they say, and for most part it has. Everything has sort of progressed as it should. Hailey's doing so good. We are doing good. The work is sometimes daunting, but it's our job and we carry our badges with pride. We haven't totally discussed my hypothetical proposal, but we've been considering moving in together. Things are moving along. Life is moving along.
That is, until one fateful day when Voight comes out of his office, a pained expression on his face, his eyes filled with anger. He pauses at the head of the pen and looks around. We all stop and gaze at him expectantly.
"Tony Ramos was apprehended trying to escape the country at the border. He is being extradited to Chicago."
The moment Voight's words are out of his mouth I look to Hailey and I see it coming. Her breathing becomes short and choppy, her cheeks flush, and the light vanishes from her eyes.
"Hailey…"
Hailey's POV
The pain is back, there, behind my breastbone, aching, catching my breath short. Tony Ramos. Apprehended. I feel an overwhelming impulse to cry. But the tears are not coming. I draw in long, slow breaths, trying to restore myself, but I feel a heaviness settle in my chest, as though something new has lodged in there. The overpowering smell of bleach and mildew fills my nose and waves of nausea grips my stomach. I lean forward, hand on my knees, trying to calm myself.
I hear Jay calling me, I feel his arms wrap around my waist. He is holding me tightly. "You're oaky. I'm right here. You're safe. You're in control. Nothing is so bad you can't find your way out," he keeps repeating in a calm and soothing manner.
I lean forward, straining against Jay, my breath still coming out in short, rapid, spurts.
"Close your eyes. Remember that trip we took to Wisconsin? You and me. Remember how the car got a flat. How it was really cold and there was snow on the ground. I slipped on the ice while changing the tire and you couldn't stop laughing."
I still in Jay's arm, remembering that trip. Jay all bundled up in an oversized jacket, changing the tire outside, while I mocked him from inside the car with my hot cocoa. We had a great time at the cabin, but the drive had definitely been one to remember.
After a few minutes, my breathing normalizes, the feeling in my hands and feet return.
"You good, Hails?" Jay asks.
I feel my cheeks flush. "I'm okay now. I'm fine," I say, though the tremor in my voice tells another story.
"Come on. Let's go take a walk."
I want to resist, but I'm still shaking, slightly unsteady on my feet, and an overpowering feeling of anger is boiling just beneath the surface of my skin.
After months of thinking I put this behind me, here I'm back to square one. Time does not heal anything. Time tricks us into thinking we are better when we are not. Time makes us think we have overcome something that we have not. Time does nothing but makes us forget how much it hurt, but it doesn't heal; time forgets.
I remember now, and I'm going to kill that bastard.
Thank you for reading and for your input. It really helped me decide where to take this fic. As you can see, I'm veering off the dark stuff and moving towards healing/closure for Hailey. Again, your support means everything! Let me know what you think! Cheers!
