He doesn't consciously remember picking up the glass. The imperative to lash out at Erin and Mouse and their hovering had been building since the locker room as they refused to leave him alone and his skin was prickling with anger and Erin was too close and her eyes imploring and Mouse was steadfastly standing by her side watching Jay in his quiet understanding way and he couldn't stand it and then he was yelling and Erin was pleading and then she was yelling back and Jay launched vicious words with relish, like throwing knives at them was the only way to get the blades out from under his own skin, and then there was a crystalline crash, light exploding off the shattered pieces as they dropped to the floor and Jay felt the impact like a blow in his chest. He was frozen for a long moment, Erin and Mouse both unmoving and watching him with wide eyes. Mouse blinked, and then Jay was stumbling back a step, seeing the glass hit the wall over and over, the glass that he had thrown; he had thrown a glass only a few feet from two of the most important people in his life.
The image of his father rose in his mind, drunk and swaying and red with anger, empty beer bottle in his fist, his hoarse yelling following Jay as he walked determinedly away, and then the crash that made Jay whirl around, pulse racing mind full of the flames of a Molotov cocktail bursting to life, to find the skittering broken glass of the beer bottle on the walk only feet behind him.
A strangled moan crawled out of his throat and he fell into the couch and buried his head in his hands, feeling the couch dip as Erin and Mouse sat on either side of him, Erin's hand on his back.
"Jay," Mouse murmured. "You need to talk to someone."
"A therapist if not us," Erin added. The snort was a reflex, unable to contain his reaction to the irony of Erin telling him that, having made her escape from her sessions with Dr. Charles as soon as Voight had accepted that she was good and could be trusted. "We will if you will."
At that his head jerked up to look at Erin in surprise and disbelief, but she met his gaze earnestly. He turned to Mouse, already expecting to find Mouse denying the words Erin had spoken for both of them – he knew how Mouse felt about therapists because it was just like how Jay felt about them – only Mouse looked him in the eye and nodded, and Jay stared at him. He thought of Mouse, beside him in the dark trading nightmares, Mouse struggling to breathe as his own body choked him, Mouse breaking their unwritten rules after the murder of Brian Johnson's boy, Mouse bringing their nightmares into the daytime with Atwater just out of hearing range and Jay shutting down and shutting Mouse out. Jay stared at him and traced the shadows beneath his eyes that had lightened but never gone away, that spoke of a constant state of too little sleep, the memories lingering in the blue of his eyes, so utterly familiar. He thought of Mouse, lying in a hospital bed and Jay sitting next to him in the dark, and he thought of an Erin he didn't recognize in shades and a scowl, are you done talking?
Which was how he had ended up sitting in an armchair waiting for Dr. Emily Garner.
"Jay Halstead?" Jay looked up to find a tall brunette woman who couldn't be much older than him standing a few feet away. Jay stood, and the woman smiled and held out a hand, which Jay took. "Dr. Emily Garner. Come on in." She shook his hand firmly, then turned and led him into an office that looked more like a small lounge with its couch and armchairs, a full bookshelf lining one wall, a desk tucked into a corner and light streaming in from the wall of windows. Dr, Garner folded herself into one of the armchairs, and Jay followed, sitting uncertainly on the couch opposite her and glancing around the room, avoiding Dr. Garner's keen gaze.
"Have you ever been to a therapy session before, Jay?"
His eyes found hers automatically, then flicked away again.
"No."
"Alright, well everything we talk about is confidential unless I believe you are an imminent threat to yourself or others. This is a safe space for you to talk about anything without judgement. My job is to listen, to help you work through your thoughts, confront trauma, and develop healthy coping strategies. Okay?"
"Got it." Jay shifted, hands clasped in his lap.
"So, I understand from Dr. Charles that you're ex-military, and now you're a Detective with the CPD, is that right?"
"Yes, 75th Ranger Regiment, 3rd Battalion. Two tours in Afghanistan."
"Rangers, that's impressive. I know the training is hardcore. What was that like?"
Jay shifted uncomfortably. Dr. Garner's voice was carefully casual, a tone Jay had heard used by cops and lawyers for years to try and wheedle information out of people without them realizing they were being interrogated or, in the case of lawyers, led into a trap. And wasn't that exactly like the job of a therapist? To get people to talk about things they didn't want to talk about? He shouldn't be surprised to recognize the interrogator in her. He remembered the hours spilling onto hours of being trained how to resist interrogation if he was captured, remembered when the training turned into—
"Tiring," he said, turning away sharply as though he could look away from his own thoughts so easily.
"Yes, I imagine it was," Dr. Garner said gently, and Jay had the horrible sensation that he had said more than he'd meant to with that one word, and that she had understood too much. "Can you tell me what's brought you in now?"
A flash of Terry's blood on his hands, Terry with blood on his lips, not like this brother.
"That was the deal."
"The deal?" Dr. Garner prodded.
"With Erin and Mouse," Jay added shortly. "They go if I go."
Jay expected Dr. Garner to say something, but she didn't. The silence stretched on and Jay continued staring at the wall until he couldn't help but look at her. She was just watching him, studying him shamelessly, but when he met her eyes she leaned forward slightly.
"You don't want to be here, do you Jay?"
He considered lying, as though she really was an interrogator he needed to trick, as though there was something to be gained from it, or maybe simply because he was stubborn and annoyed and didn't want to give her the satisfaction of telling her the truth.
"No."
"So why are you?"
Jay stared.
"That was the deal."
Dr. Garner studied him a moment longer.
"I only spoke briefly with Erin when she was setting up the appointments, and I haven't met Mouse yet, but I can't imagine this was quite what they had in mind when they made this deal. Therapy takes work, Jay. It's hard, and you have to be willing to put in the effort. If you don't want to be here, to talk to me and work with me, you won't get anything out of this. It's noble of you, to do something you don't want to do to get the people you care about the help that they need, but they're clearly trying to do the same for you. If you aren't going to really fulfill your end of the bargain, how can you expect them to do the same?"
Her words struck Jay sourly, an uncomfortable truth he'd been trying to avoid since he gave in to Erin and Mouse's negotiating. Because it had been part of the deal that they needed to take it seriously, that they had to actually talk and make an effort. Which was all well and good in the abstract, and when applied to Mouse and Erin, but for himself… He felt the rise of a lump in his throat and grit his teeth. His emotions had been far too close to the surface the last week, and he hated the burn in his eyes that warned of coming tears. There were times and places for tears, and this wasn't one of them. Besides, what was he even crying about? He didn't know, and he glared at the floor trying to force his tear ducts to cooperate. He'd cried his tears for Terry. That was that.
The first tear slipped down his cheek and he clenched his jaw, made tight fists of his hands hidden in his lap, glared at the floor. He was supposed to have better control than this. The weight of another person in the room, a stranger witnessing his failure, itched on his skin, only made the burn in his eyes worse as more traitorous tears trailed down his cheeks.
"Jay," Dr. Garner said quietly, and Jay's fists tightened, blunt nails digging into the skin of his palms. "Do you need a moment alone?"
Caught between his desperation to be alone and the need not to show any more weakness by asking this of her, Jay floundered for a moment, before stiffly dipping his head. He heard the rustle as Dr. Garner stood, the click-click of her heels across the floor, the snick of the door opening, swishing slightly, then the answering snick as it closed. Breath whooshed out of him as he hunched forward, releasing clenched fists to hold his head in his hand, breath catching on the inhale, breaking into a sob.
He allowed himself a moment of crying before pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes, shoving the maelstrom of messy unidentified emotions back. He wiped his eyes, taking deep huffing breaths, standing and pacing the room. He wanted to leave, to bolt and never come back. This was his chance. She wasn't in the room, he wouldn't have to explain to anyone, he could just leave. But then he imagined the looks of disappointment he'd see on Erin and Mouse's faces, imagined the argument they might have as they tried to goad him into going back, imagined them resignedly cancelling their own appointments… So he swallowed hard, wiped his eyes again, shook out his hands, took several deep breaths, and then poked his head out the door to find Dr. Garner sitting patiently in one of the chairs outside the room and he motioned her back inside. She sat primly back into her armchair and Jay back onto the couch, feeling a wave of déjà vu as he settled nervously, but this time that nervousness was joined by the beginnings of a resigned determination.
"So how do we do this?" he asked roughly. Dr. Garner smiled.
"We just talk, Jay."