There's sadly been a lack of reviews on the last chapter. I'm not sure if this is the site having issues again or if actually no-one reviewed on here. I guess I'll never know but hope you liked the previous installment anyway.
Set in 2018, Jay gets his injuries from the shoot-out checked out. Lots of angst, some brotherly comfort, maybe? I suppose, you'll have to read it to find out. This was a chore to write, so this might not live up to expectations.
Chapter Twelve
Haunted for A While Now, A Revenant Thought, Did I Let You Down?
Bukahara – The Vulture and The Little Boy
Richard Nixon, the 37th President of the United States, was known to have nosocomephobia, the fear of hospitals.
In 1974, he had rejected treatment for a blood clot, profoundly convinced that, "if I go to a hospital, I'm fairly sure I won't come out alive." Like any other phobia, it was irrational considering that clinics first and foremost were meant to be places of healing. Illogical or not, it didn't make it any less real for those suffering from this fear. If put in a situation where a phobic had to confront their most extreme horrors, they experienced it with all their body and mind. Their heart rate increased, and their breathing became rapid and shallow as they obsessively worried about what they were about to face. There was also the expulsion of various kinds of bodily fluids. Some were sweating bullets, others had the runs, or they felt nauseous to the point of tossing their cookies. While all the above was merely a physical manifestation of their fear, the rather graphic depiction was depressingly accurate as to how repellent a phobic felt towards whatever induced their uncontrollable anxiety.
Nosocomephobia, while an independent branch, often served as an umbrella term for different kinds of fears surrounding the medical field. Whether they were afraid of germs, needles, doctors, blood or death, all those individual phobias were classified as subcategories. Even the commonly known claustrophobia marked one of them, so did hypochondriasis. Each of the listed fears could occur solitarily, but sometimes a couple of them clustered or were the stepping stone for developing nosocomephobia. A domino effect, that was best explained by taking the example of trypanophobia, the fear of needles: the thin, pointy objects were associated with doctors, so naturally a subsequent weariness of whitecoats easily morphed into a full blown iatrophobia, and since hospitals were swarmed with them, a fear of those was almost a given.
The reasons for intense terror were vast and they almost always had their roots in one or several traumatizing events in the past. For nosocomephobia it was usually an unpleasant experience in or related to hospital grounds. Having been under medical care for a longer period as a child or maybe having watched a sick relative whose illness required frequent visits for medical care. The acquired memories burned themselves in a person's mind and had the potential to grow into a full-blown phobia somewhere down the road, especially if the trauma wasn't ever fully processed. Thus, a hospital might be a place forever linked to the feeling of physical and mental pain and suffering as well as the loss of power. As not to confront those unwelcome sensations, the most sensible approach was to avoid those horror houses at all costs.
Unfortunately, it wasn't always easy to abide by that. Especially not when you were a cop in a metropolis with high incidents of crime. Fighting for justice in Chicago was beyond dangerous and it came with a certain accident proneness. More so when working in an elite specialized unit that dealt with some of the cruelest cases and criminals the city harbored and was fiercely aggressive and reckless in the pursuit of offenders.
Jay detected a certain irony in the fact that he of all people had picked a profession that regularly landed him in one of the places he loathed most on earth. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but he hated hospitals with a passion, and he had more than enough reasons for it, too. Most people he knew speculated that his strong dislike stemmed from bad experiences and poor medical care overseas. Having to spend two months recuperating from grave injuries in a medical center halfway across the world far away from the comforts of home was bound to accrue a certain aversion to clinics. It was without a doubt a plausible assumption, a perfect cover if you will, so the former ranger didn't bother correct anyone who dared to psychoanalyze him. However, less than a handful of people knew it wasn't the real reason, and none of those people were clued in on all the facts surrounding his fear. Not even Mouse.
It had all started on Thanksgiving 1994, when his own stupidity had not just incurred the most terrifying wrath his father had ever unleashed but had also landed him in the emergency room. The way the old man had laid into his already injured tiny eight-year-old frame had inevitably settled all previous doubts about him needing medical care. And while the hospital visit itself hadn't scared him too much, the circumstances leading up to it had. Jay had suppressed most of the incident since, and if he was being honest to himself, it might have been one of the rare instances where being in the ED had made him feel safe and protected.
More prominent and most definitely laced with a negative connotation was one day just a week short of his sixteenth birthday. Marked as the day when it all officially started going south for the Halsteads, he'd never forget the moment when he had been sitting next to his mother in an office of the oncology ward as her doctor diagnosed her with chronic lymphocytic leukemia. Just like he'd never forget the months that followed: numerous afternoons distracting her as poisonous liquid dripped into her system via an intravenous line, even longer nights of rubbing soothing circles on her back and holding a bucket for her whilst she coughed up every droplet of stomach contents and bile. He sure as hell would never forget those excruciating months leading up to her death. Those were the predominant images that invaded his mind every time he set foot in a hospital, most prevalent in the very place where his mom had lost her fight ten years ago.
There was a reason why he kept a signed document in his wallet, stating that under no circumstance did he want to be shipped to Mercy Hospital and Medical Center in case of an emergency, not even in the direst situations where his life was on the line. He'd rather die than face this nightmarish hellhole again.
As much as hospitals terrified Jay, after nine years working as a Chicago Police Officer he had learned to cope with his phobia. Sometimes he felt something akin to pride for his ability to conceal any outward signs of an impending panic when he needed urgent medical care. With the regular trips to Chicago Med for injuries, witness statements, protection details or mere visits of his older brother, it was imperative that he had enough self-control to successfully block out the triggers. He mastered the art of hiding the fine tremor running through his hands and slowing down his breathing. He wasn't as good at hiding his restlessness, but people knew him for his constant need to be actively doing something, so it wasn't hard to explain that. And if he were sweating a bit more than usual or needed more frequent bathroom breaks, well, he could easily blame it on spicy Chinese.
He covered well and his friends and coworkers usually were none the wiser. But the fear always lurked in the background, and some days it was harder to repress the physical presentation of his abhorrence.
Today was undeniably one of those days. Brought on by utter exhaustion, a bone-deep fatigue that he hadn't felt in almost a decade. Jay felt drained, physically and mentally, and his chronic lack of sleep wasn't helping matters at all. Despite his prayers to a God, he didn't believe in anymore, the presence of his older brother in the next room the previous night hadn't blessed him with the peaceful rest he so desperately desired. He had gotten the sporadic catnap here and there, even drifted off into a full two and a half hours of uninterrupted sleep sometime in the primeval hours of the morning. But most of the night his mind had been invaded with grotesque tessellations of random snippets leading up to his parents' respective deaths. And if that wasn't enough, his brain had added a good amount of torturing guilt over keeping Will away from Natalie into the mix.
Jay was certain that the redhead would much rather have spent the night in the comforting arms of his fiancée, not on the lumpy leather couch in the detective's lousy living room. Probably even more so now that he was under the impression that his sibling had spent the night in a blissful slumber. It couldn't have been further from the truth, but the brunette didn't have it in him to rob the ginger of the illusion. Yet, he felt incredibly selfish for asking the older Halstead to stay with his needy little brother.
Initially, he'd been relieved that Will had agreed to crash with him. However, that spark of joy had quickly been replaced by regret that just like ten years ago he'd allowed himself to put his pure vested interests before his brother's. He might not have said anything so far, but sooner or later he would lose his patience and deliver a well-deserved wake-up call by reminding him that he was not the only one grieving. Jay would take it in stride. The loneliness, his constant companion, was only a result of his continuous destitution after all. It was his punishment for failing to be a good and grateful son and for being such a pain in the ass brother for all his thirty-two years. He deserved this.
A burning pain settled in his chest that had nothing to do with the vivid contusion on his torso and everything to do with the undesirable self-deprecating inclinations washing over him. He rarely let himself be absorbed in his self-pity and misery anymore, usually had a better handle on his underlying depression. Blaming his emotionality on the insomnia he rubbed his tired eyes. Suddenly, sitting upright on the edge of a hospital bed was too much of an effort. The weight of it all pulled at every fiber of his being. Heaving a shaky sigh, he gave in to the exhaustion and leaned back against the synthetic pillow. He didn't have to look to know that Will's hazel eyes followed his every move, piercing and maybe a little bit worried too. Jay knew why, had seen his own betraying reflection earlier, the only specks of color in his chalky complexion the racoon eyes and the feverish glow to his cheeks.
Of course, his brother had noticed too, though he was probably mostly hung up on the latter. It was surprising that the ginger hadn't yet jumped into full doctor mode. The younger Halstead almost wished he had. Instead, he was subjected to silent ogling that left too much space for his insecurities to flourish. The intermittent profound exhales coming from his right grated on his nerves, and when Will let out a particularly lengthy puff of air, he found himself unable to keep his irritation quiet any longer. "What?" he snapped and threw an exasperated sideways glance at his older sibling, his lips parted enough to bare his front teeth. The other man blinked at him and creased his eyebrows in confusion, not expecting the sudden ebullition. Jay couldn't help but roll his eyes and shake his head. "You clearly want to say something, so spit it out already," the brunette challenged.
Will flashed his lashes once more, dumbfounded by the bluntness. "I… don't?" he staccato-ed, bewilderment painted all over his face. The detective tilted his head and arched his eyebrows, the right a tad higher than the left, creating uneven creases on his forehead. The corners of his mouth were pulled down. It took no more than a second for the redhead to recognize it as his younger brother's telltale expression mix of annoyance, incredulity and determination. Hunching forward, the doctor propped his forearms on his thighs, hands clasped, and eyes raised to meet the brunette's. "I'm just worried about you, man," he confessed with a heavy sigh.
Jay hoped as much. Nevertheless, hearing the words made him uneasy, so he averted his eyes and fiddled with the zipper of his black hoodie for a moment before folding his hands in front of his abdomen, mindful of the bullet wound in his left side. "There's nothing to worry about," he brushed the older Halstead off. He stared at the white overhead lights just long enough for them to burn his retinas and create dancing colorful spots in his vision. Squeezing his eyes against the brightness, he added an offhanded, "I'm fine, Will."
"I don't believe you," the doctor huffed. "Not even a little bit, because you look anything but fine, Jay." The man in question snorted at that but didn't say anything in return which fed to the ginger's frustration. "C'mon, man. I'm a doctor. I also happen to be your brother who has known you all your life. Do you really think you can fool me of all people into believing that you're okay?" In bitter irony, he contradicted his words as he failed to notice the flash of sadness and disappointment on the detective's features. Irony that wasn't lost on the younger man.
Casting his eyes down, Jay started fidgeting with the zipper once more. "Always a doctor first and a brother second," he muttered under his breath, his observation barely more than a whisper. But as soon as the defeated realization left his mouth, he regretted loosening his tongue and ardently prayed that his big brother hadn't caught what he had just let slip. It appeared he hadn't because moments later Will asked him to come again. Cautiously relieved, the younger man shook his head. "Nothing," he mumbled, trapping his bottom lip between his teeth. It wasn't nothing. Yet, repeating his resentment would only end in the other denying their veracity and Jay wasn't sure his fragile mind could take that right now. Besides, how was he supposed to explain to the redhead that he had always felt like he came second to his brother's career? "It's fine. I'm fine," he reiterated, not in the mood to start an argument, knowing one would undeniably ensue if he voiced his insecurities.
"I hear those words from you every time you come into the ED as a patient. I'm still waiting for the day they are true," a new voice sounded from the doorway, speaking with sobriety, though the subsequent chuckle took the sting out of them. Both Halsteads startled and turned towards the raven-haired doctor standing on the threshold with a mischievous expression on his face. "Good morning, Jay," Dr. Choi greeted his patient, then acknowledged his coworker, "Will," earning himself a nod and a tight-lipped smile from the redhead. "How are you two holding up?" he inquired in an unobtrusive manner, eyes narrowed to slits. The mischief made way for empathy as he addressed the brother's loss of their father.
Grumbling a 'morning' in return, Jay forewent a verbal answer and merely shrugged one shoulder. Usually, he would brush it off with one of his quick-witted 'I'm fine's, but since Ethan had already inadvertently eavesdropped on his stock response, there really was no point. He let his head fall back onto the pillow and waited for his older sibling to take the reins instead, knowing that the older was itching to present his ailments on a silver platter. This was his turf after all. Will didn't disappoint and took the initiative to answer for them both. "We're still processing," he replied vaguely. "But this one," he jerked a thumb towards his younger brother, daring a fleeting glance, "is neglecting his care again."
The accusatory tone wasn't lost on the Asian doctor, neither was the way Jay tensed upon hearing the taunting words. He could tell there was a story there, but knew better than to interfere with family affairs, especially when it came to those two knuckleheads. They always seemed to quarrel with one another and while there was always a light teasing to it, it sometimes appeared forced, insincere almost. Nevertheless, everyone who knew the Halstead brothers could tell they cared about each other, and when push came to shove, they were fiercely protective of one another. Ethan didn't want to be caught on the fence, so he ignored the underlying concern and focused on the reason why the detective was in the emergency department in the first place. "Since you came here on your own free will," Jay scoffed at the choice wording, and Dr. Choi shared a fleeting look with his coworker, "I assume you're still having trouble from the shooting?"
"Why don't you ask Will? He seems to have all the answers," the younger man suggested bitterly, not for the first time over the last days projecting his anger at the wrong person. Punching his brother when he was angry at himself for calling his father a thankless old prick instead of making amends. Accusing Hailey of transferring her own daddy issues onto him when really, she was just looking out for him. And now he was flippant with Ethan for no other reason than that he was cranky and worn out. He recognized his behavior as one he'd exhibited a lot that first year after coming home, after losing his mom. It was true what they said: old habits indeed died hard.
Inhaling deeply, he closed his eyes and massaged his temples with his left thumb and ring finger, willing the budding headache away. "Sorry, doc," he apologized quietly. "I'm just…" Just what exactly? Miserable? Depressed? Angry at the world? Sick of all the pain and suffering and really life in general? He'd earn himself a psych evaluation at the very least if he conceded that. "…tired, I guess." He settled on that in the end, sounding as weary and exhausted as he appeared. He swiped a hand over his forehead in frustration, frowning at his palm when it came back sticky with sweat, but his clouded mind couldn't come up with a reason why that was concerning.
His avowal surprised the other two men in the room, both knowing that the former rarely admitted to not feeling well, but neither commented on it right away. Instead, Dr. Choi resumed his scrutinization of the brunette, one eye twitching repeatedly as he noted the impressive bags under his patient's eyes as well as the haunted expression in them. He was awfully conscious of what they alluded to, had seen the same pain staring back from his own mirror many times before. And even though his circumstances had been different, he immediately deciphered the message they provided. It was the driving accelerant fueling his next inquiry, wording chosen with delicacy and his voice soft. "Are you sleeping, Jay?"
Will's eyebrows shot up, perplexed by the strange phrasing. Unintentionally answering the Asian's tacit query of whether he'd been aware of his brother's sleeplessness the previous night and those before that, he blurted out, "He slept through the night…" but stopped himself there. The ginger wasn't oblivious to how expended the brunette still appeared this morning after what was supposed to be eight hors of restful sleep. But he had out it down to his physical ailments and the mental toll their father's death had taken on him. Had he misread? He studied Jay, tried to figure out just what his colleague had seen beside the obvious but came up blank.
Subdued by the fact that someone else was better at reading his little brother than he was, he glanced between the two military men, both of whom ignoring his demur. They were holding a silent staring contest, one that he'd put money on his sibling winning because he'd never known him to cave unless their father was the opponent, but surprisingly the detective cracked first. A tiny spark of jealousy ignited in his stomach, wishing he'd have the same ability to break Jay's resolve, or better yet connect to him in such a way in general. That he couldn't was no one's fault but his own, though.
"I take it that's either a 'not really' or at the very least a 'not enough'," Ethan's even and nonjudgmental voice brought him back from his musings. There was deep understanding in the dark brown, almost black eyes as the Asian ruefully added, "we will have to address that." The former ranger licked dry lips and sucked them between his teeth, feeling exposed to have this intimate subject laid out like that in front of his brother. He caught a glimpse of Will from the corner of his eye, noted the uncertainty and his obvious chagrin for not being in the loop. Guilt set in at once, and he pulled himself up a bit straighter.
Sensing his unease, Dr. Choi smoothly bridged to the matter at hand. "Before we do, let's focus on why you're really here, okay?" Jay nodded timidly, then pushed himself up all the way into a sitting position, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed once more. His movements were stiff and sluggish, the fatigue making every muscle feel as if someone had attached blocks of cement. Ribs protested every move, and he stifled a wince that didn't go unnoticed by the doctor. "How's the pain?"
Embarrassment snuck into the detective's cheeks, pronouncing a blush. "Manageable," he assured, drawing a barked laugh out of Will. Two sets of eyes turned in his direction, Ethan's gaging for a deeper meaning for the outburst whereas Jay's Maui blue wore a sullen look. "Jeez, I'm so reassured that you don't believe in the magical pills you force-fed me," he quipped cynically but with a trace of humor. Softening his gaze as well as his voice, he reassured, "they are actually doing their job." The redhead quirked a doubtful eyebrow. "Seriously, man, I'm okay."
The ginger was anything but convinced but let it slide for the time being. "I'm glad to hear that," he replied earnestly, holding his little brother's eyes for a while longer, hoping to convey that all this was merely out of concern; he cared about him. Jay offered an imperceptive nod in understanding and curled the corner of his lip in a ghost of a smile. It wasn't much but enough for the time being. Confidence returning, Will turned to Ethan, who was watching observantly from the sidelines. "Jay skipped on doses of his meds for a solid five days. I wasn't aware until after the funeral yesterday, but I made sure he took them last night and this morning," he relayed matter-of-factly.
Not at all surprised by the revelation, Dr. Choi didn't so much as blink as he surmised, "so, pain is controlled for the time being." Foregoing a lecture, both confident that Will had probably already given one if not multiple speeches to his patient and convinced that it would fall on deaf ears anyway, he moved on. "What brings you here then? It's not like you to come in for a checkup unless absolutely necessary." The Asian doctor moved to the disinfectant dispenser near the door, and after scrubbing up pulled a pair of gloves from the box hanging on the wall before moving closer to the bed. Knowing that the brunette wouldn't be truthful, he shifted his attention to his coworker.
The older Halstead stood from his chair and joined Ethan, gladly taking the stage. "Last night when I checked on Jay's injuries, he mentioned a grating sensation in the ribs. I took a closer look. There was a slight dip at the junction between the two bottom ribs and the sternum. Couldn't tell for sure whether they were broken, so I thought it best to get another x-ray done just to be sure," he explained as he claimed a spot at the foot of the bed.
"I agree, it can't hurt to take another look. Initial imaging did reveal hairline fractures after all," he contemplated. Turning to the former ranger, he requested, "can you lose the shirt for me, Jay?" The young man complied. His zip-up hoodie was discarded soon enough, but the shirt gave him a bit more trouble, and he couldn't keep the grimace off his face as he carefully maneuvered out of the Henley. Will pressed his lips together as he realized that his brother had been lying. Clearly, he was still in a good amount of pain despite the medication. Ethan noticed too but refrained from straight-out saying it. Briefly making eye contact with the brunette, he warned, "I'm sure you're used to it by now, but this might hurt a bit," and waited for his patient's approval.
Despite the warning Jay flinched away from Dr. Choi's firm touch as he started palpating the area to the left of his breastbone. Glancing over at Will, the doctors shared an alarmed look. The ranger hadn't reacted this badly to his brother's examination the previous night, and he hadn't even been on pain relievers then. "I can feel the dip as well. This could just be from muscle tenseness, but with your level of discomfort and your shallower than normal breathing," Jay rolled his eyes and huffed in annoyance, "I'd rather be safe than sorry." The ginger nodded his appreciation, all the while staring at his dismissive brother. "What about the gunshot wound? Everything okay there?"
Breaking away from the detective, Will raised his eyes to his colleague. "It showed early signs of a local infection. Redness, swelling, warm to the touch. No pus though. I put on an antibiotic cream last night, and I made sure he took the antibiotics too," he reported, finding comfort in the medical babble. "I haven't had a chance to check on it today, though." He carefully observed his brother's reaction. Furrowing his brows, Jay looked down at his shoes, knowing this was because he'd been too pissed earlier to ask the older Halstead for help. Without thorough inspection of the wound, he'd removed the old dressing and put clean gauze on it by himself, sparing no glance at it whatsoever, therefore couldn't tell if there was any improvement.
Ethan easily accepted the explanation, but he could tell there was more to it. "Let's look then. Do you mind laying down for a minute, Jay?" The man in question obliged, abdominal muscles flexing uncomfortably as he did. To ease the strain the horizontal position put on the wound he raised his left leg at an angle. Meanwhile the Asian doctor circled around the bed for better access, and once his patient was situated, he peeled back the corner of the tape. Will caught a glimpse of the dressing, surprised that it was done with precision, almost replicating his from the previous night all the way down to the antibiotic cream and the cuticell. He had been under the impression that Jay had been too out of it last night to pay much attention to the ministrations but apparently, he had underestimated him. Then again, with his susceptibility to injuries and reluctance to seek medical help, he assumed this was far from the first time the detective had patched himself up.
"Doesn't look that bad," Dr. Choi approved after assessing his patient's maltreated left side. It was still red and puffy but not overly so. "Antibiotics seem to already stave off any impending infection. As long as you stick to the course of taking them from now on, this will probably resolve itself. The swelling and pain will decrease eventually. We'll just have to get the stitches out in another week or so." The younger Halstead released a breath he had been holding, Will looking equally relieved. Ethan covered the wound again, deeming it unnecessary to renew it after only two hours. "I'll get you scheduled for that x-ray now. ED is swarmed today, so it might take a while." Jay scrunched up his face upon hearing that, and the Asian immediately felt sympathy for him, knowing how much the former ranger hated to be stuck here. "I'm sorry, Jay. Try to get some rest in the meantime. You know you need it."
Smiling unconvincingly, the brunette nodded once, assuring, "I'll try," though all three men knew he wouldn't even succumb to a five-minute nap whilst in the hospital. He needed a reprieve though, preferably sooner rather than later; the way he kept rubbing already irritated eyes and alternated between massaging the bridge of his nose and his temples attested to that. If he couldn't find a way to shut off his spinning thoughts, there was no other option than a sleeping aid, even if it were just for one or two nights to allow his body to recharge properly. Jay seemed to be aware of that too. Thus, when the Asian opened his mouth to address the problem, he beat him to the punch. "Doxepin, lowest dose," he rushed out quietly, eyes shifting nervously to Will. "No benzos, though."
Ethan held his gaze for a long minute, detected the pleading in his blue-green eyes. As someone who suffered from post-traumatic stress himself, he grasped the potency of why the detective needed to be in control of this decision. This was not his first rodeo with sleeplessness, not by a long shot, and he had presumably been through a few to know which medications worked for him and which only made matters worse. Doxepin, while primarily used as an antidepressant, helped with insomnia as well and showed an effect almost instantly. It also wasn't addictive like benzodiazepines, something Dr. Choi assumed Jay wanted to stay clear of not just because of his job. Nodding his understanding and watching the tension drain from the brunette, he promised, "I'll be back in a bit."
With a finalizing bop of the head, the Asian left the room, leaving the brothers by themselves. An awkward silence settled over them, neither willing nor knowing how to initiate a conversation. The older of the two still had his eyebrows knitted in puzzlement, eyes locked on his younger sibling. He watched as the former ranger absentmindedly rubbed his right thumb over the old, jagged scar at the base of his neck, something he had wondered about for years but never had the guts to ask about. Just like he hadn't asked about all the other fain marks of past trauma littering Jay's body. Each of them mocking Will whenever he got a glimpse of him shirtless just how little he knew about the terrors his baby brother had been through. The fact that the detective seemed familiar enough with severe insomnia to use medication for help, much less know which ones worked best for him, served yet another reminder of the bitter truth.
"You're staring again," the brunette's voice interrupted his thoughts, resuming scratching the scar with his fingernail. He shifted his upper body but failed to find a comfier position on the uncomfortable cot. Pushing himself into a semi-reclined position, he grasped the opportunity to fetch his shirt from where he had discarded it closer to the foot of the bed. Jay pulled it over his head but winced when he tried to slip his left arm into the sleeve, the movement aggravating sore ribs. Willing to help, his brother rounded the footboard, but the younger man waved him off dismissively. "I can do it," he stressed, pushing his hand through the hole forcefully to prove a point.
Huffing a frustrated breath, Will stepped away, hands poised to assist his brother. It unnerved him greatly that the brunette was so hellbent on doing things by himself, never asking anyone for help. Jay had always been too independent. Even as a kid he had hardly relied on anyone other than himself, rarely allowing people to take some of the load off him. The strong autonomy had only increased, went as far as the detective trying to solve and mend things that were way beyond his control. Deep down, the older Halstead knew he was partially responsible for that. And he was still trying to figure out how to prove to him that in spite of his neglect ten years ago, he was here to support him now and wouldn't leave again. He'd prayed, the way they had grown closer in recent years would have convinced the detective that he didn't have to face the hardships of life on his own anymore. But the last week had served as a painful reality check, reminding him time and again that there were too many fissures that needed sealing.
It was his phone this time that dragged him back to the present, effectively halting Jay's attempts to get dressed as well. Will pulled the device from the pocket of his borrowed jeans and activated the display to a message from his fiancée. His younger brother slowly slipped the rest of the way into his t-shirt, watching silently as the redhead read the received text. The ginger's facial features smoothed out, residual creases of worry making way for a blissfully happy and genuine smile. Jay didn't have to be an investigator to know whom the message was from. "It's from Natalie," the doctor verbalized his assumptions, not bothering to look up. "She wants to know how we're holding up. Wants to stop by before her shift starts." Lifting his gaze to meet the brunette's, his eyes begged for his approval, hopeful.
The expression pained Jay. While it warmed his heart that the older Halstead had someone who made him happy enough to invoke such an exuberant joy and tranquility, it simultaneously turned the blood in his veins into ice chunks, chilling him to the core. The way Will lit up like a Christmas tree from something as small as a one-liner from Natalie painfully reminded him that he didn't have this. Didn't have a person that had the ability to take his mind off the fact that they had only just lost their father, the only other remaining relative beside the two of them. But he didn't want to impose, didn't want to interfere with his brother's contentment, so he replied to the unspoken question in the only way that felt right to him. "I'm not really up for company. But you should go see her," he replied softly.
"Are you sure?" Will asked reluctantly, squatting slightly to the same eye level as the detective so that he could get a better read on him. Jay closed his lids briefly and sucked in a calming breath to hide all traces of him not being okay with this before the doctor caught a glimpse of them. Hazel orbs roamed over his little brother's face, searching for clues of exactly that. "I'll stay here if you want me to." But Jay shook his head and grinned as widely as he could muster, mutely telling him no. "Thanks. I'll only be a minute, okay?" The brunette nodded once, granting the redhead permission to leave, so he did.
As he grabbed the door handle, Will hesitated. Instinct told him that Jay wasn't as okay with this as he let on, the voice of reason angrily yelling at him that he'd convey the same message he had a decade prior. Turning around he caught him with his guard down, spotted the raw anguished expression on the former ranger's face and a lonely unshed tear in the corner of his eye. It squeezed his insides excruciatingly. Was he seriously going to leave his baby brother alone with his grief again, inflict the same pain he had all those years ago? Gasping out a self-loathing breath he vehemently threw his head from side to side. Releasing the handle bar, he stalked back into the room and hauled the hospital chair over, placing it right beside the bed.
"No," he stated, voice strong with determination. "This right here?" he waited for Jay to fully acknowledge him and once he did, pointed to the plastic seat, "this is where I need to be," he asserted forcefully, holding the younger Halstead's eyes. They were filled with vulnerability and loneliness in them that made Will's heart ache, but there was also a sparkle of something else. Hope. And deep gratitude that Jay probably didn't know how to verbalize. He didn't have to though because the ginger got it all the same. "I'm not leaving you. I made that mistake once. I'm not doing it again." The redhead worried his bottom lip, then placed a hand on the detective's shoulder as he continued, tone softer but filled with true conviction. "I'll always be your brother first."
It was all Jay needed to come undone. He blinked; the single tear trickled down his sibling's cheek and a myriad of emotions crossed his face that he hadn't allowed to surface for way too long. Digging his fingers deeper into the crevice of his younger brother's shoulder, Will gently pulled him in a hug, mindful not to jostle his ribs. He was aware that this wouldn't magically erase all the unresolved issues hanging between them, but it was the first step in the right direction, the first right step he had taken with Jay in what were probably sixteen years, maybe even more. And for the first time in a long time, he felt like he was giving his little brother what he had deserved yet missed out on for since their mother had died: the unconditional love and affection of a family member.
Next up will be a slightly different installment to the ones you're used to. Hints have been dropped both in this and the previous chapter to what we might be looking into next. Any guesses?
As always, stay healthy, stay safe, stay vigilant, stay (insert preferred adjective here).