Hi friends! This second installment was highly requested over on tumblr and I figured after what happened in 8x14, it was a good time to write it. So here you go lovelies! I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!
"You jammed me up. That's not okay."
His words play over and over in her head as she drives to his apartment. She knows he might not want to see her, the look of disappointment on his face at the crime scene enough evidence of that possibility, but she can't let the night end without talking to him or at least trying to.
She parks her car and goes inside his building, heart beating wildly in her chest as she makes her way to his door. She rattles her knuckles against it and waits, knocking twice more a few moments later, when there's no answer, but the door still doesn't open and it feels as though someone has just punched her in the stomach.
She pulls her phone out of her back pocket and calls him, brings the phone to her ear, but it goes right to voicemail. She ends the call and waits a minute or so before she redials, hoping that maybe he's on another call and is distracted, but she just gets his voicemail again.
He doesn't want to talk to her. Doesn't want to see her. And her stomach lurches, shoulders heaving raggedly as her breath gets stuck in her throat.
She can't blame him. She had put him in the most compromising position tonight, taken unnecessary risks, and made questionable choices to say the least.
She looks at his door longingly, thinking if maybe she stares hard enough it'll open and he'll appear out of nowhere, but the door remains closed and he's nowhere to be seen.
She turns on her heels and wipes under her eyes at the burning tears threatening to spill over, a horrible ache pulsating inside of her as she walks back to her car and starts to head home, ready to crawl into her bed and try and sleep this night away.
When she finally turns down her street sometime later she spots his truck parked up outside of her building. He's standing next to his driver's side door, arms crossed over his chest and head tilted towards the ground. He's waiting for her and the sight of him makes her heart nearly stop beating.
She can just barely make out the look on his face in the glow of her headlights, but it resembles something a lot like betrayal and it sends a rush of guilt through her immediately.
She parks a few spots behind him and takes a deep breath as she gets out of her car. She tries to somehow prepare herself for whatever he's about to dish out to her, but she'll take whatever he has to say because at least he's there.
"Wasn't expecting to see you tonight," she says quietly, approaching him with slow moving steps and a once again fast beating heart as she shoves her hands into her coat pockets.
As she stands in front of him she takes in the soft look of his eyes and the anguish that curtains his face. She realizes it wasn't betrayal she had seen just moments ago, but sheer disappointment instead, just like earlier at the crime scene, and it guts her again.
"Figured we should talk. I didn't wanna leave things the way we did at the scene," he tells her, his voice a matching tone of quiet and reserved.
"I went to your apartment. Tried calling."
"My phone died so I just came over," he says.
She responds with a tilt of her chin towards her apartment building in silent invitation and he follows a few steps behind her inside.
They ride the elevator up to her floor without uttering a word, him standing in one corner and her in another, time seeming to pass too slowly as if taunting her. She glances over at him, but his eyes are down to the floor, lost in his own mind and thinking too hard.
When the elevator finally halts and the familiar ding chimes through the car they step out onto her floor and head for the door of her apartment, him still a few steps behind her and keeping his distance.
She lets them into her apartment, closing the door after him and turning the deadbolt, but she's quick to notice he doesn't move any further inside than where he stands by the door.
She steps away from, pulling off her jacket and tossing it over the back of the couch before throwing him a look over her shoulder. "Water? Beer?"
He shakes his head and stays planted where he stands, hands in his pockets now and staring back at her as Hailey moves towards the kitchen island. She leans back against it, crossing her arms in front of her as she looks at him. He still doesn't move or take off his jacket, and it makes her stomach churn at the memory of them standing in similar positions not too long ago when she had been so certain he was going to leave her.
She knows she made a mistake, a few of them, and she knows she hurt him and the last thing she wants is him to leave or think she wants him to, so she blows out a deep sigh and walks towards him.
"I'm sure you might want your space from me after what happened and I have no right to ask," she says, words coming out in a rush before she hesitates, breathing out and looking at him with near desperation. "Will you please stay?"
Jay stares back at her for a fraction of a moment and it's long enough to set her mind reeling in fear that she's jeopardized everything between them now, but he surprises her like he always does and gives a slow nod.
"If I wanted space I wouldn't have come. I didn't think that's something either of us needed right now."
His tone is sincere despite the sadness looming over his face and she breathes out in relief as she offers a small smile and takes another step closer towards him. She reaches for his arms, pulls his hands from his pockets, feels his eyes burning into her as she pushes his jacket down over his shoulders.
She drapes it over her arm and holds onto one of his hands, her thumb brushing over freckled skin as she lifts her eyes to his, then whispers, "I'm really glad you came."
He nods again and gives her hand a quick squeeze, but doesn't say anything more, just follows her with his eyes when she lets go of him and goes to place his jacket down over hers on the couch. She makes her way back to him and reaches for one of his hands again, twining their fingers together as she leads him into her bedroom.
They fall into their usual routine, one they've created and perfected with one another since that first night together many months ago, although tonight it's silent between them. There's no mindless small talk or teasing one another from across the room, but it's still so domestic and easy and somehow comfortable despite the circumstances. It sends an ache through her chest as they do their own thing, but they still do it together. As if they've been doing it for a lifetime already.
She strips and changes into a pair of clean underwear, and grabs a t-shirt from the basket of fresh laundry on the floor that has yet to be put away. A mindless chore she'll save for tomorrow when she has more energy.
She pulls the t-shirt over her head and when it falls to just above her knees, it's only then she realizes that the garment doesn't belong to her, but to the man standing across the room in just his boxers.
She glances over at Jay who quickly catches her eye and looks her up and down as he settles beneath the sheets and leans back against the headboard. "Is that my shirt?"
Hailey makes her way to the bed, pulling her hair out from its ponytail and dropping the tie on her nightstand as she climbs in beside him. She sits in a pretzel position as she faces him and gives a shrug of her shoulders. "I just grabbed it from the basket. I can change if you - "
He shakes his head, smiling fondly at her. "You look good in my shirt Upton."
The corners of her mouth tip upwards at his comment, but she can't help fiddling with her hands that rest in her lap.
"I'm sorry," Hailey breathes out, not able to withstand the awkwardness in the air between them any longer and needing to talk to him, really talk to him. "I know I messed up. I shouldn't have gone into that house. I put you in a tough spot tonight and I'm so sorry."
"God, I hate that word," she scoffs then before he can say anything and runs a hand through her hair. "Sorry. It doesn't fix anything and I know it's not supposed to, but apologizing still doesn't condone what I did tonight."
He gives a slow nod and glances down and she can tell he's trying to find the words. The right words because he won't be mean or raise his voice to try and make a point. Not with her.
She watches the way his shoulders rise and fall with each deep breath he takes, and then he looks back up at her with tired eyes from the stress and the chaos and the worry of the day behind them.
"I accept your apology, but I don't want you to be sorry Hailey," he says quietly before releasing a dejected sigh. "I want you to be safe. I want you to be smart. You crossed a line tonight and it was the same exact line you crossed that got you shipped off to the Feds last year."
"I know," she says quickly. "I got caught up in it. The case and Voight coming down on me and I started second guessing myself, and then that kid was killed and all I could focus on was finding the guy who killed him. I just didn't care about doing it the right way. I felt like I had to prove something, but I just ended up losing control again."
"I get it Hailey. Trust me, I get it. Especially when it comes to kids. And I know the system is flawed and it doesn't always work the way it's supposed to, but if tonight had turned out any differently than it did, we'd be screwed right now."
"You're right," she says with another nod, tears pooling at the corners of her eyes because she knows how bad a turn things could have taken with her behavior and the thought alone makes the guilt inside her thicken. "I was so blinded by all of it and I just reacted. I don't know why I keep doing these things. Crossing lines and pulling people down with me. Pulling you down with me. I was so stupid. I was reckless and I put you in jeopardy."
Her heart is pounding in her chest, anxiety creeping up on her, as she lifts a hand to run it through her hair again.
"Voight's not stupid though," she continues a moment later. "He knows you covered for me. He knows we lied. I don't want you getting in the middle of those crosshairs, not for me. I don't wanna cause problems for you. I don't wanna change who you are because I make dumb decisions."
He shakes his head at her and leans forward, reaching for one of her hands and holding it tightly between both of his. "I'm not worried about Voight. He's not exactly the poster boy for doing the right thing. I chose to get out of the car. I chose to follow you inside that house. I made my own decisions and I take full responsibility for that."
"I put you in that position though!" She groans, blowing out a deep sigh of regret. "You know I didn't do that intentionally right? You have to know that."
"I do," he confirms with a squeeze of her hand. "And you know I'd follow you anywhere Hailey, but it's a slippery slope that you've been walking on and what happened tonight? That can't happen again."
"It won't," she whispers.
She knows her words are meaningless, but it's a promise she can still make. One that she'll follow through on. Because of him, because of them, because he really does make her better. Makes her want to be better.
She's not sure she deserves the softness of his eyes or the warmth of his fingers wrapped tightly around hers, but she's never been more grateful for the way he anchors her in place in that moment. The way he keeps her from spinning out completely from the frustration and the guilt of her bad decisions and the events that have transpired over the last few days.
"Um, there's something else you should know," she says with caution in her voice and he raises an eyebrow at her curiously. "I had to stop off at the district earlier after we wrapped at the crime scene for paperwork and I told Voight we're together. Officially I guess."
"Didn't he already know? Or at least assume anyways."
"Yeah, but I also sort of made the suggestion of getting a new partner," she confesses. "He said he wasn't gonna split us up though. Said we're a good team."
"Well, that's one thing he's right about. We're good together. Always have been," he tells her. He glances down at their joined hands and then looks back up at her, a curious gaze lingering in his eyes. "Do you really want a new partner?"
She gives a slow shake of her head and a look of regret comes over her face. "I only suggested it because I thought I couldn't have both worlds, ya know? You and me on the job, you and me here like this. I'm trying to figure it all out, us and the work stuff. I thought I had to give up one to have the other and I'm really glad I didn't have to do that tonight."
"That's good because I don't want a new partner. I just want you, but I need you to hear me when I say you're not alone. You don't have to deal with these things on your own. The cases, Voight, any of it. I know that's not how you're used to things, having someone on your side like that, but I'm here Hailey. Let me help you carry some of it, okay?"
He squeezes her hand for good measure and stares at her with his bright green eyes, soft and sweet, one of the only ways he ever looks at her these days. It sets her skin on fire, chest aching, every nerve ending shooting off with so much love and appreciation for the man in front of her. She's not sure what she's done to be so lucky to have a partner like him, not just on the job, but in life as well, and it makes everything inside of her ache in the best possible way.
She nods, looking back at him with a teary eyed smile and bringing her free hand up to her face to wipe at her eyes.
"I really love you, you know that? I swear I don't deserve you," she tells him. "And that's not me being self-deprecating or cynical, it's just me appreciating what I have. What we have. I got really lucky with you."
He grins at her instantly, the sound of her saying she loves him being one of his favorite things and because he knows exactly what she means. Their track records in dating and relationships and love have all been a wash. Nothing tangible, nothing to hold on to, to depend on. But this thing with them, this unadulterated thing with its strong foundation and an ability to communicate so perfectly, even when it's hard, reminds him that this is the kind of thing they'll be talking about years from now.
When they're old and grey and still together, still talking, still loving, still trusting. Their story will be the one people ask to hear about at parties and dinners and holidays. The one that people will hear when the question is asked, "How'd you do it for so long? How'd you make it work?"
He already has his answer for when those questions are asked. It's the same one he whispers to her now in the quiet of her bedroom and the soft glow of a bedside lamp.
"It helps having a good partner."
Her smile widens at his words and she drops her free hand down on top of his, plays with his fingers and squeezes them against hers.
"This is becoming our new thing, ya know?"
"What's that?"
"This pillow talk business. Our old thing was some dive or Molly's over beer, but I gotta say I much prefer my bed," she tells him with a grin that matches his.
"Well, I do love your bed. I might love you just a little bit more though," he says.
It's tooth achingly sweet the way the words roll of his tongue so easily and it has her rolling her eyes, but she can't rid herself of the smile stretched out over her face.
It still amazes her, still makes her head spin, how they can go from talking through such serious topics of conversation, of hashing things out, to teasing one another so playfully, so intimately.
The last few days have made her second guess everything. Her ability to be a cop, to be better, to separate her work life and her personal life with him. She knows it won't be easy, but she knows they're going to make it. They'll make it work.
She doesn't have much time to dwell on the thought of it not working out with the way he smiles at her still. His eyes soft and glistening with so much love and affection as he stares at her.
"We're gonna be okay," Jay says then, as if reading her mind, but she doesn't even question it. He's always been able to read her. Know exactly what she's thinking. Exactly what she needs.
"Yeah, we are," she agrees with another tight squeeze of their joined hands.
"Come here," he says with a tug of her hand.
She lifts herself to her knees to crawl the short distance to him and he pulls her down beside him. He helps her settle under the covers, their bare legs tangling together beneath the sheets, and his arms wrap her up in a cocoon of love and safety that only he has ever been able to provide her.
Her head lies against his shoulder and her arm falls across his torso, hand resting on his stomach and their eyes stay on one another in a tender gaze. She drags her fingernails over his skin in feather light caresses and he moves his arm up her shoulder to glide his hand through her hair.
"This is my favorite part of every day," she mumbles into his shoulder.
"Mine too," he says, angling his head down to press his lips against her forehead. His lips linger there, pressing into her skin again, then once more before he pulls back to look her in the eyes.
"I wish I could do tonight differently," she finds herself whispering as she stares at him. "I wish I could take it back."
He knows instantly by the sound of regret laced in her words and the sudden appearance of sadness clouding her eyes again.
"What's done is done. Whatever happens as a result, we'll deal with it together," he says squeezing her side. A gentle nudge reminding her they're okay, that he's got her, that things will be okay.
She turns her face into his shoulder, pressing a kiss against his bicep and moving her hand up to his chest, right over top of where his heart lies under skin and muscle and bone. It beats slowly beneath her palm, another steady, gentle reminder that he's still there with her, that she hasn't ruined this, them. That he's still in it.
He stretches over her for a moment to switch off the lamp on the nightstand on her side, and then his arm falls back around her. He tightens his hold on her just a fraction more around her body as he tilts his head and kisses the top of hers before they settle into the softness of the bed and each other.
She's always wondered how couples could sleep this way, cuddled together so closely like they show in movies and on television. She had always thought it couldn't be comfortable for either person, but as she lies in bed with him, nestled under covers with her body pressed up against his and his arms holding her tightly, she realizes she wouldn't want to fall sleep any other way. Wrapped up beside him is her favorite place to be. Her own little safe haven where nothing can hurt her or cause her pain or make her feel like less of who she is.
She's never been dependent on anyone. Hasn't ever needed anyone until him. But it's not because she's that kind of person, someone who needs a relationship or a significant other to make her feel better about herself or to quiet the voice in her head that whispers she's not good enough, not worthy enough.
It's because he makes her better. Makes her want to be better despite her actions tonight. He makes her feel invincible. Like she could face any battle and win a million times over because he has so much faith and trust in her, so much unwavering love for her.
She's certain that regardless of everything that has happened over the last few days they really will be okay. That this thing between them is going to last, both their relationship and their partnership, that they're it for one another. They're the endgame.