Fandom: One Chicago

Title: Battle Scars

Chapter 1: For Better or Worse

P O V: Jay Halstead

A/N: Some things go better together, like Hailey and Jay. If only Dick Wolf would consider hiring fanfiction writers to write One Chicago. Sadly, he has refused all attempts to co-write with me, so my lawyers have told me to write this pointless disclaimer. No, I do not own any rights to the Dick Wolf universe; this is purely for fun.

Molly's Bar

1925 Courtland street, Chicago 60622

"Thanks for meeting me, Sylvie."

"No problem, Jay thanks for not letting Herrman kill Shea."

Laughing, I slide into the seat across from Sylvie at Molly's. "My pleasure you wouldn't believe the amount of paperwork for homicide; glad to save some work on my day off." Both of us laugh, throwing her head back; Sylvie sips her beer. "Yeah, that damn paperwork gets me every time too. So why did you want to meet up, Jay?"

"I'll buy you a round, Sylvie, and tell you. Two Porter's, please, Stella." "Coming right up, Jay."

"So, how are you doing, Sylvie?" My fingers nervously tap against the counter as I turn to watch the game on the TV's then back to Brett, my eyes avoiding hers from any contact; I feel my chest puff out for a few seconds, then inhale deeply, trying to remember how to breathe with all these nerves bouncing around inside my body. "I'm doing well, Jay, about the same as I was a few hours ago when we played ball. How are you doing?"

"Not great, man." "Why, what's going on? You seemed good when you were slamming dunking the ball above Hailey's head."

Laughing, I finally make eye contact with her. "So yeah, speaking of Hailey, you know her birthday is coming up next month, right?" "Yeah, it's a few days before mine; why stuck on what to get her?" "How did you know?" "you have that deer caught in headlights look; it ain't pretty."

"I'm desperate for great gift ideas. Hailey's turning thirty-four; I know it's not a big number, but she's not looking forward to getting another year older, so I want to show her she's always going to be young and sexy to me. Hailey's a hard woman to impress; she isn't a woman who likes fancy jewelry or fancy dinners. We've only been dating a few months, so I don't want to buy anything too expensive that will scare her off, but I don't want to go too cheap either she'll think I don't care."

"That is a good question, Jay. Talk to me, tell me what Hailey likes; I don't know her well."

"Hailey is a roll-up jeans wade in the water so she can wrestle the fish lady; she hates caviar and fancy mustard. I love Hailey' cause she's quirky, a bad-ass, who loves to get down in deep with the boys battling for the ball."

"Court-side seats, Jay or field level seats."

"Huh?"

"Show her you like her for who she is; get her court-side seats to the Bulls or field level seats to the Cubs. It's not overly expensive or too cheap; it'll show Hailey you are a listener and understand what she likes and needs."

"Wow, that's impressive, Brett. See, I knew coming to you was the right move; the advice you gave Matt was so heartfelt, I knew you would help me with this issue."

"No problem Jay, showing Hailey that you listen to her will let her know you love spending time with her and want her to be happy. Love is all about taking an interest in what the other person likes; it builds a bridge to communication, trust and builds memories. Every love story starts with some shared event, imaging telling Hailey you love her while the cameras are pointed at you, the reaction on her face would be priceless."

"She would kill me, Sylvie."

Laughing, I slap his arm, watching his face twist in every emotion. "I know I'm kidding; that sounds like my fantasy with Matt. Sorry, I had to, man, seriously imagine the cubs scoring a homeroom, and you turn to her to celebrate by kissing her and telling her you love her for the first time."

"I already told her I loved her, and she didn't say it in return. She got all flustered and giggled, brushed her fingers over my jawline, straddled me, kissing me into silence."

"Aw, Jay, I am sorry. Do you think you're moving too fast, Jay?"

"Honestly, I do not know, Sylvie. I don't know what's going on with her if she's seeing us as friends with benefits more of a fling, or if she is in love with me and doesn't trust me. I know how I feel towards Hailey; it took me a long time to allow myself to feel this way towards another woman after Erin broke my heart."

"Yeah, I heard Erin did a number on you, man."

"You could say that, Sylvie. I was head over heels in love with that woman. I was set to ask her to marry me, and she left with no explanation, no goodbye. There is no contact for three years until she shows up here in Chicago this week to help with a case. I want to be mad at her, but I can't bring myself to be mad. I mean, I get she was in a tough spot back then, and she saved herself. It hurts, though, Sylvie. Hailey helped me move on without judgment, no rushing. She gave me the time I needed to work through my feelings. Love doesn't vanish because the person leaves; It stays in the heart and festers. It can stop growing but doesn't stop feeling. It's like being stuck at a traffic light on yellow forever, the light won't turn green, yet it's never read."

"I threw myself into work, Sylvie, Hailey was by my side every day always ready to listen, our friendship grew organically, never forced it started as partners, and over time we started hanging out at, and Molly's, then going to sporting events till eventually each other's places."

"Sounds very similar to Matt and I as well, Jay."

"Maybe I am moving too fast, Sylvie. I don't know Hailey's dating history or if she has even been in love before, which sounds strange, but maybe she threw herself into school and her career and never made time to date or find love, so she does not know what these feelings are, and how to communicate them to me."

"Doesn't sound weird at all Jay, society is moving too fast nowadays. In the generations before us, Jay people meet the organic way through school or work; they hung out for a few months, went on dates, talked on the phone, built a relationship, discovered each other's interests and non-interests. People had to take the time to talk and meet up because there was no social media, no cell phones. They lived by a code set by years of tradition. They excepted girls to marry young, have babies, clean the home. Support their husbands there wasn't much for women in the world, so our choices were nonexistence, we never got to choose our careers, or explore the dating field."

"We dated who was available in our towns, who our parents liked for us. Sure, we could choose a few people in our towns, but never anywhere near the number of people now. Traditions and morals were very similar because we grew up in the same towns and knew each other since we were babies. Women didn't move away from the town they were born in; they settled down the way their parents did and their grandparents before them. Building a relationship took time; we didn't throw around the words' I love you. They were treasured and saved for the right person."

"Now the choices are so much more extensive women can choose the career they want. Yeah, we have to work twice as hard as you men. We can swipe left or right; we can date whoever we fancy; we don't have to settle for our emotions. We can choose hormones and have a one-night stand. The same as any guy, it's not as shameful, and if we want to focus on our careers, we can do that. It's liberating and confusing because our hearts are now on the line in ways they never were before. We don't always know everything about the guy we're dating if we can trust them if we share the same morals and religious views. People can be whoever they want on social media, lie and create fake profiles. The words I love you have become so overused it's hard to know if someone is saying it because they mean it or if it's automatic."

"We grew up in a time when traditions were changing, Jay. The divorce rate was at an all-time high in the late '80s and early '90s. Hailey grew up in a house divided by traditions and moral division. Her dad didn't show emotion except for anger. He hurt the woman he claimed to love, swore forever too. Her mom grew up having the words forever is God's promise drilled into her head; divorce wasn't an option in her mind. For better or worse was her promise to God on her wedding day, the same as her parents had and her grandparents."

"Marriage in ancient Greece has less of a basis in personal relationships and more in social responsibility. The goal and focus of all marriages were intended to be reproduction, making marriage an issue of public interest. The parents usually arranged marriages. Maybe Hailey's parents fit that description; in her mom's eyes, divorce was a sin, but in Hailey's world, she grew up in a time when society was saying women don't have to be stuck in that role if they are unhappy; they can make their path carve out their destiny. It's confusing to any kid, Jay; if her mom didn't love her dad but stayed out of tradition, Hailey received the message that happiness isn't important; pleasing everyone else is. Even if it means suffering through abuse and anger."

"Hailey isn't a woman to settle, though, Jay, and maybe that's where the confusion is starting; if she's never learned how to love, never been shown what genuine love looks like; how does she know what she's feeling is love and not lust?"

"She could fear losing you too, Jay. You both do a dangerous job, and you dance with death every time. If she admits she loves you, and you die. She'll be broken, and if she's never been in love, she's never had heartbreak; a woman like Hailey, who is a bad-ass, does not know how to deal with this emotion. This scares her because if she can take down a criminal who has killed, robbed, and raped, she should be able to handle something as stupid and small as emotions. Her peers will see her as weak and silly; women can't be seen as weak in the police force because they already have to work so much more damn harder to get respect."

"Damn, Sylvie. That's deep. Fuck. Stella, another round for professor love over here!"

"Shut up, dude."Sylvie shoves me hard, laughing. I grin, throwing my arm over her shoulders. "Talk to me, Jay. Tell me about your relationship; I can tell you if Hailey is caught up in her feelings or lusting for you. Tell me about your interactions."

"Hailey is always there for me when I am hurting. She texts me or call me; she shows up with beer and turns on the game. We don't need to talk; we can raise a beer, scream at the TV, cuddle on the couch. She's silent in her affirmation of loyalty; she isn't an emoji type of woman; she is more of a flash a smile or rolls her eyes across the room at me, woman. Hailey doesn't hold grudges even when I am a douche and fuck up. She keeps my secrets even if it means going up against Voight, but she calls me out on it."

"She loves you; Jay take the smiles, the eye contact as proof of her love. She could be scared, or her ego could be too big, but whatever is going on, she needs time, Jay. Love can't be rushed; love is selfless, Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy; it does not boast; it is not proud. It does not dishonor others; it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs."

"Ow!" Brett's hand flies to her nose seconds after the man next to her jumps up, screaming at the call the umpire makes on-screen, his elbow slams into her nose. "Shit, you're bleeding, Sylvie." Stella is quick to grab a towel and slam it into her nose. My hand pushed her head back, pinching her nose. "Get some ice, Ritter!" Stella yells to Ritter as we help her out of the seat at the back of the bar. "Do you have her, Stella? I have a score to settle with that asshole that hit a woman and didn't apologize."

"Yeah, I got this throw his ass out. Be careful. His name is Henry Mesner."

"Jay, you don't have to. I'll be fine; it was an accident."

I'm out the door before Sylvie can finish the sentence, charging the asshole who slammed his elbow into Sylvie without so much as a backward glance towards her. I hate men who put their hands on a woman and don't think twice about it; the image of Hailey's battered face flashes inside my mind. I might never teach that asshole a lesson, but I will make sure this idiot apologizes to Sylvie. "CPD, you're out of here." the man looks at me, sneers, slams his beer down, and laughs. "make me bitch." Turning towards me, the man spits at me. I dodge the spit and act fast, pulling him to his feet, almost tearing the collar… Hearing the slight rasp of material ripping. Catching him off guard, I pull him closer. "Now you're under arrest for assaulting a police officer and a city servant."

The man's foot slams into my knee cap so fast I have no time to prepare; bodies slam into both of us as people jump, cheering over the game, or moving to get closer to the bar to order drinks. Molly's is packed and noisy, even with COVID restrictions in place. The scent of sweat mixed with alcohol fills the air, making me slightly nauseous my adrenaline is pumping, and I am so mad I could beat the living shit out of this man. It takes all my training and patience to keep my cool. He curls his fist; I see the action from the corner of my eyes, ducking seconds before his fist would have made contact with my nose. Dodging the blow, however, sends pain ricocheting through my swelling sore knee he had slammed his foot into moments before, which knocks me off balance.

"CPD!" I scream, taking off after him as he rushes out of the bar, shoving people out of his way. "CPD, stop!" running after him, I duck and dive the massive amounts of people who are pouring through the entrance of Molly's. "Jay?" I stop momentarily as I hear Erin calling to see her just outside the establishment with Olivia Benson and Amanda Rollins, who are in town for personal reasons. "Can't talk. I'm after that guy who assaulted Brett and me. His name is Henry Mesner."

I see the light go off in all three of their eyes. "Henry Mesner, that's the bastard I'm in town for; he's wanted on kidnapping charges and child rape." Erin instantly pulls out her cell phone, calling in an all unit's response. "We know that kid; we had a case with him in 2013, we'll help." Olivia turns to Amanda without speaking, and she nods, pulling out her gun. "Awesome, thanks, Olivia; you and Erin go South. Amanda come with me and will go North. Cut him off before he can get to any public transportation."

The four of us take off my feet, pound almost as hard as my heart. "What was your case about him back in 2013?" "Child abuse we couldn't figure out who was abusing his then five-year-old sister. Long story made short; it was him; he was ten at the time by the time we could get to him, he had slashed his mother's hand and taken a gun held another child hostage. They sentenced him as a juvenile, and he got out at eighteen; this is the first time we have heard of him since then. No idea the FBI even wanted him."

"Yeah, the FBI isn't so keen on sharing lintel with us either. You would think all branches of law enforcement would be in the loop."

"Would be nice, Jay, man, wouldn't it?"

"Yeah, Mandy, it would be."

Amanda shoots me a look; grinning, I slap her back as we duck behind a building, trying to get a proper visual. "Not a fan of the nickname?" "Select people, man, select people." "Oh, right, I got you, I'm not one of them." "Now you're catching on, darlin'."

"How well do you know this section of Chicago, Jay?"

Now it's my turn to stare at her as if she's lost her head. "Man, this is my city; I know every inch and corner of this wonderful place."

"Oh, yeah, sure you do. Ego's man, I swear, you male officers have them in spades."

"Excuse me, Missy, I am a detective, not an officer, and don't act as if you don't know every inch of New York City."

"I don't. NYC is massive. I rely on good old-fashioned GPS, and anyone who says they know every inch of their city is a liar who I will challenge any day."

"I would argue, but we don't have the time; kid sounds like a born psychopathy at ten years old; I can't image what Juvie made him out to be now. All those years to fester his anger, and plot revenge."

"Yeah, me either, but I can tell ya it ain't going to be good. He doesn't have any emotions; he doesn't recognize them in others, he has no empathy. We knew that he's manipulative. You usually see this pathology in abuse or neglect cases; all this was when he was a child and still had time to be molded. Prison even Juvie will erase any chance of redemption in a child-like Henry."

Henry flies past Jack and Ginger's bar on Armitage Street, zipping around the corner. Hoping we have eluded him, I am sure not the most innovative tool in the shed if he thinks assaulting a cop will get him a free pass. Amanda and I show our next moves by motions; she ducks down the alley as I sprint out onto the sidewalk. "CPD, out of my way." Jumping on a bench, I avoid slamming into a women wheeling a stroller down the sidewalk who did not move. Balancing a cell phone in one hand, which she's talking into at an almost animated level of drunk excitement, and a beer bottle in the other hand, a smoking cigarette is laid on top of the stroller.

Henry isn't so quick on his feet with his coordination; however, between watching his backside for us and holding his side, which I notice right away has a gun strapped to his hip, Henry misses his step and crashes into a hot dog vendor. I see the vendor's eyes widen as he tries to get out of the way in time, but the elderly man is too slow. Henry's body slams into the cart, sending both him and the man spiraling to the ground. The crashes echo through the air in front of me only a few feet as Henry slams into the cart, sending hot dogs, mustard, ketchup, relish, onions, and buns flying in all directions.

A strangled cry escapes the man who is sent flying to the ground fast, and violently his cane cracks; I see the man has only one leg left. The speed of Henry crashing into him, and loss of balance prevents him from adequately grasping any surface in time to stop himself from falling. A younger man dressed in an Army uniform tries to grab the elderly man but isn't quick enough to stop him from free falling. The younger man holds his uniform top, pulls it off, and applies it to the man's head. I nod in appreciation towards the young soldier. People scatter as the action heats, rushing to safer ground; well, most do some assholes deiced this is a perfect vlogging opportunity.

The man's head slams into the brick case surrounding the tree behind him. Grabbing my cell, I quickly call 911; since I am off duty, I don't have my radio or any way to contact the department directly. "this is Detective Halstead, badge number 51163. I am in plain clothes with four other detectives in purist of a suspect wanted by the FBI. The name is Henry Mesner. We are heading down Armitage Street; I need backup stat and an ambulance in front of Ginger's bar. The suspect is dressed in black jeans, a Grey hoodie, an Elderly man has been assaulted and is bleeding from the head."

"NYPD, Stop, Henry. This is Detective Amanda Rollins; you remember me, right?" Amanda steps closer, her gun raised as Henry stumbles, getting up, his eyes vast, pupils bloodshot, face paling second by second, breath rapid as his mind takes in the situation he's created for himself. "Yeah, I remember you bitch. You're one of those bastards who sent me to jail. You pretended to care for me, pretended you understood. You betrayed me!" Quicker than lighting, he raises his gun, aiming at Amanda.

"Put the gun down, Henry. You do not want to fire at the police."

"Bitch, you don't know what I want." "Drop the gun, Henry, get on your knees, with your hands up in the air, now!"

Police sirens echo in the background, along with the wail of an ambulance. "Let him go! This is harassment!" People shout at us; someone throws hot dogs at us, which we now have to duck. "Police brutality! This young man is being chased and harassed; get this shit on video!" Amanda's eyes never waver from Henry's. I scan the crowd trying to see who threw the hot dogs, but the scene is distracting. "Drop the weapon! Or I will shoot!"

"De-fund the police! De-fund the police! The chant rises from the on-lookers who are recording as they make a circle around us, because this scenario isn't dangerous enough.

Henry doesn't drop the weapon or yield; instead, he moves so fast neither one of us has time to react before he grabs the soldier who is bent over, applying pressure to the elderly man's head. He isn't looking up and has no time to react to defend himself before Henry presses the gun to his head.

"I got this, Jay." Amanda steps forward, lowering her weapon as I spot Olivia and Erin a few inches away behind Henry, scattering to surround Henry trap him in a circle. "Henry, I know you feel like we hated you, and we wanted to send you away; it's not the case though we cared; all of us cared very much. We wanted you to get help; you once told me saying shut-up wasn't very nice."

"Because it's rude."

"Yes, it is Henry, but so is pushing your sister down the steps, holding someone at gunpoint."

"I had to do those things! I didn't want to. No one listens to me! All of you are so damn judgmental, but none of you understood! You all lied to me, you made me promises, and none of you kept those promises! You sent me away and.. and you have no idea what those bastards did to me! Do you have any idea what hell Juvie is no? Of course not, because you don't care about the kids you send there. We're all screw-ups, we're criminals, you've condemned us, you took away my childhood!"

'Henry, let's calm down; we can talk. What did they do to you?"

"Nice try, bitch. You ain't going to shrink me. It's too late to change the past; just remember anything that's happened since I've gotten out; it's all on you. I have followed both of you bitches ever since they have locked me up; I cheered when I heard William Lewis put that bitch Benson in her place; he's my hero. Everything I have become is because of you and him."

"Henry, that's enough!"

He pivots to face Olivia, but he never stops watching us, making it impossible for Amanda and I to move closer without him seeing. "Oh, awesome, you are here; how I have missed you, Olivia. Did you have fun with my friend William? I hope you got what you deserved. Did William give you the love and attention that they deprived me of all those years when I was locked up? I never got to kiss a girl because of you; I never got to go to high school or choose a career; they deprived me of my childhood because of you, bitch."

Two Police cruisers pull up lights and sirens blaring, jumping out of their vehicles. They stay behind the doors; my eyes catch a glance of Hailey and Kim Burgess from my unit. Their eyes lock with mine. My breath falters for a minute; Hailey looks radiant, rose-colored flushed checks, sparkling ocean blue eyes which are dead set on Henry within seconds. A set a look of determination in her eyes.

"Henry, you can't blame them for you being sent to Juvie; come on, man. You committed multiple crimes. You are lucky they didn't charge you as an adult." "Who the hell are you, asshole? I didn't ask for your opinion. You're so damn pathetic you can't even get a woman to say I love you back; you had one woman leave you when you would have asked her to marry you, so why the fuck should I take advice from you, loser?"

I suck my breath in, knowing Erin and Hailey have heard everything Henry has said. Erin's eyes connect with mine. She is asking me a million questions; God, her eyes are so beautiful. I have always loved staring into them; even now, knowing I am head over heels in love with Hailey, one glance into Erin's eyes can send my head spinning. "I don't want you to come and go, Erin." My words echoed in my head when I asked Erin to move in with me years ago, the look of uncertainty and fear in her eyes. Erin had never been in love with a man so profoundly; she had never allowed herself to trust before we started dating. Her life had been one giant hell pit of abusive, sexual predators ever since she was a child. She never had a man who stayed long enough to show her how a real man treats a woman until Voight, and he was a father figure.

Romance was never a word she had any experience with; trusting me was a giant leap for her. How and why do I keep attracting these emotionally damaged women? Do I have a neon sign on me screaming. The nice guy will be your support therapist. Use me, bang me, leave me. Sirens approach quicker, closer to our location. I can't stop staring into her eyes, replaying every conversation we ever had in the years we worked together.

"Do you want to take a bullet to get Voight's blessing?" Erin had smiled so wide, laughed so softly, yet with such intensity, it had filled me with such pleasure and slight worry. "I would take a bullet to come over to your house tonight."

Bullet's oh yeah, focus Jay, you have a damn psychopath pointing a gun at you, your friends, and innocent civilians. My heart pounds harder as I focus closer; knowing the danger we are in, Henry is unstable and filled with anger towards the police; he won't hesitate to put a bullet in any of us. Pissing him off now wasn't the most brilliant move; I'm at a crossroads now. Half of me wants to run the hell away from this situation, pull Hailey out of harm's way, not that she can't defend herself. She is a kick-ass cop with razor-sharp skills, mentally and physically. Some day though, our luck will run out every cop who wears a badge and works in the field knows this; every call, every stop is a 50/50 chance we won't make it home.

Being scared doesn't mean we are weak, it doesn't mean we are incapable of doing our job it makes us humans; it means we think with our heads not only our hearts, something about this stop doesn't feel right to me I pride myself on my instincts. They've gotten me through so many horrible calls, brought me home from overseas safe. My instincts tell me to run fast and far; this isn't an ordinary call. My hands shake a little as everything I have to lose in my life flashes before my eyes. My brother, who I have finally grown closer to after years of anger and resentment; my friends, they've become the family I always wished I had growing up.

I know what's going through Amanda and Olivia's minds are their kids. Who will take care of them if one of them is killed in the line of duty? Who carries on their legacy when they are single parents, who tell their kids why they died, who makes it okay for them every night when they close their eyes and dream of all the moments their mother will never be there for as they grow up.

Self-preservation screams run, but we don't run. We stay, we hold our positions, and we fight for every single person in these streets because a stray bullet could end any of their lives, even those who are screaming to defund us. After all, even though we disagree with them, even though they hate us, we took an oath to serve and protect. It's an oath most of us take seriously, and we don't get to pick who we classify as deserving to be protected.

"Henry, let this man go. He has done nothing to you; he's innocent. This man served our country. He protected our freedom; give him his freedom. We can talk, Henry, work this out whatever is going on with you, we can talk through this."

"I'm done talking!" The gun blasts loudly, shocking everyone as the bullet tears through the young man's back; his knees give out, I see his eyes roll into the back of his head. Blood splatters from his chest as the bullet rips through his body. He never even had time to think one last thought. People scream as the bullets fly in both directions. "10-1! Shots fired at the police, and by the police." Kim's voice calls into the radio as we duck and return fire towards Henry, who is scrambling to dive behind a parked car firing at us, the rest of the people who have been standing here screaming at us, recording us suddenly scamper for cover, cell phones fall from their hands as they rush out of harm's way shoving each other tripping over the sidewalk cracks, and slip-on condiments.

Henry's hit by multiple bullets; I hear Amanda scream, "Get down. Jay!" Hands push me to the ground. I slam my face into a pile of relish, my checks scrape the rocky sidewalk, and I hear Amanda's weapon clattering to the concrete, I see blood pouring out of her leg. "Rollins!" I don't stop to think of my safety. I crawl towards her, dragging her body to cover behind an SVU.

"Suspect down! I repeat, the suspect is down!" Kim's voice calls out admit the frenzy. I grab my shirt, ripping it off to place over Amanda's leg, which is gushing blood. "I'm okay, Jay. It's superficial, through and through." Amanda's gritting her teeth which tells me she's in agony, but putting on a stern face. "Yeah, well, the doctors at Med will be the judge on that one, Amanda. Hold this in place."

I take her hands and place them over her leg as I rise to signal for help. As I extend my legs to push myself up, a scream tears through the air; "Call in a 10-15; we need an ambulance officer down! I repeat, officer down!" Hailey's cry; it's Hailey screaming. My heart races as I jump up, searching for Hailey. I spot her within seconds bent over the downed officer performing CPR; I race towards her my heart seems to catch up to who the downed officer is before my brain.

Shock and disbelief fill my brain. I can't quite see straight, grappling with the reality of what I am seeing. My knees give out before I can even make it to the spot where Erin's body lies in the street, blood pouring out of her body, filling the outline of the road where she lies motionless, already paling. When a police officer is killed, it's not an agency that loses an officer; it's an entire nation. My mind or my heart don't care about the nation now though, all they care about is the sight of my friend, my ex-girlfriend Erin Lindsay lying dead in the street, while my girlfriend Hailey and our friend Kim perform CPR on her tirelessly.

I see a sea of blue and red racing up only seconds after the call of an officer down is issued. It is insane. Where was this support when we were under fire? "Jay, Jay!" I feel hands grabbing me, lifting me, pulling me from my knees, screaming my name. Their faces blur my vision: Adam Ruzek, Kevin Atwater, my brother's in blue in my unit. "Give them room, let them work."

"Jay, what happened?" Sylvie Brett and Stella Kidd come racing up to us, jumping out of the car. "Over here, we need medics."

"Erin, oh my God!"

They leave me racing over towards Erin. "She's losing too much blood; we need to get her to the hospital now." The ambulance's squeal rings out, cutting into the silent night air, adding to the horrific scene of the sea of red and blue lights flashing. How can this be happening? We were just laughing this afternoon, teasing each other. I have so much I need to ask her, like why she left me with no contact. I need to tell her I forgive her; I'm not mad at her, not anymore. "Erin, Erin, you need to wake up! Wake up, damn it! Don't be a pussy. Do not take this way out, be a man, face me! I need answers! Wake the fuck up, Erin! NO! Erin!"

Arms wrap around me, pulling me away from the scene; I swing and kick. "You kick ass, Erin, so start kicking death's ass! Don't just lie there!"

"Jay, man, you have got to get yourself together. This isn't helping pull yourself together; what the hell happened, brother?" I feel a sharp prick in my arm as I swing at them. Who are they to tell me to get myself together? It's not their ex-girlfriend lying there bleeding out in front of them.

Everything happens so fast, yet it feels as if my mind is working in permanent slow-mo. I see the paramedics jump out of the ambulance, Violet Lin Mikami and Allison Rafferty. "We have three victims, Detective Amanda Rollins; she's behind the car, the young man over there, I don't know his name, and Detective Erin Lindsay."

"Sylvie, Stella, we got Erin, go tend to the other victims." Violet is quick to give out orders. Both women have a hard time letting go of Erin, but trusting their colleagues, they quickly get up and head over to the other victims. My vision dances in little black circles; my body feels suddenly weakened. The bastards drugged me. I can't seem to move my arms or raise my legs. Everything slows down. "He's mellowing; get him into the car."

I'm dragged towards the black SVU, hearing bits and pieces of conversations. "Call Voight. He can't hear about this from anyone else." Sylvie's scream cuts through the air. "Beacon! No! He's my brother!" I'm thrown into the backseat of the SVU, my face hits the plastic seat coverings, and I feel myself fading. I fight to keep my eyes open. My body feels like a heavy sack of cement. I can hardly momve. I just want to relax. As I close my eyes, my thoughts are tethering between Erin and Hailey.