New fic to get us through the hiatus! A big thanks to onechicag-oupsteadrhekker on Tumblr for being the best soundboard a girl can ask for.

Summary: [AU] Hailey and Jay were young and in love, but had a tragic falling out. Hailey left but returned – five years later. Will they find their way back to each other?

Hailey

After being away for half a decade – four cities in under five years – I move back to Chicago. Nothing's changed. It is still just as loud and chaotic as I remember. But it is home, comforting, familiar, and exactly what I need after spending the past few years working undercover. Deciding to leave was the hardest thing I've ever done, but it was a necessary change. So much happened here and I just needed time—away from everything, time to process, regroup, and heal.

Though, I'm not sure I did any of that.

I should be at work right now, but I'm at Chicago Med waiting on news about my dad. He collapsed this morning and they suspect he had a heart attack. To be clear, I'm not here for him, but for my mom. I want to make sure she is okay.

I'm pacing, back and forth, with my headphones on – trying to tune everything out. My damn head is killing me (and having the music at max decibels isn't helping), but memories from the last time I set foot here threaten to resurface. I run both hands through my hair, squeezing my temples to push them away, to shove them back into the darkest recesses of my mind.

I'm on the verge of walking out when I hear a voice call my name.

"Hailey?"

I know that voice; even though the music blasting in my ears muffles the roughness of his tone, I would know that voice anywhere. I knew sooner or later I would run into him, but no amount of mental preparation would've prepared me to stand face to face with him again. I take out my earbuds and watch Jay Halstead walk towards me. Suddenly, my efforts to ignore those buried memories become futile. I feel like I'm caught in an avalanche of emotion, it hurts, as though emotions, like body parts, can be sprained or dislocated.

The whole world contract around me, and I can feel my heartbeat in my temples. All other sounds and sight fall away, except for him.

"Hey…" I say, trying to sound nonchalant but fail miserably. At least he seems as shocked as I am. His face lost a healthy dose of color, but his eyes are locked onto mine.

"W-What are you doing here?" he asks.

"My dad had a heart attack," I explain.

A worried frown creases his brow. "Is he okay?"

"Yeah, he is okay," I respond, not elaborating. "What are you doing here?"

"Getting a victim statement."

For a brief moment, we stand, staring at each other, neither of us sure what to say or do. The tension between us is thick enough to cut with a knife. We are complete strangers now, and this notion is very painful. Jay is the protagonist in some of my happiest and most intimate memories.

"You look good," he says finally, his tone uncharacteristically shy.

"Thanks, you too," I say, and it is true. Time has not been his enemy.

"Definitely better than the last time you saw me," he says, the words bitten off like a wince.

The air shifts between us as images of him drunk on his kitchen floor with a week-old beard invade my mind. Every time I recall that faithful night a deep sense of loss fills my heart. It's weighty and thick. I feel a lump rise in my throat and a sudden tightness in my chest. I'm conscious of what will happen if I get too wrapped up in this particular memory, so I quickly shake it off.

Jay seems to recognize that I'm having a moment because he says, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"—It's okay." I wave off his apology, although everything inside of me is unraveling. "Water under the bridge," I add inanely.

Jay smiles gently, and an awkward pause follows. "H-How long are you in town for?" he asks, shifting his weight nervously. "Maybe we could—"

"I actually moved back a couple of months ago. I work at Robbery-Homicide now."

Jay's jaw drops and his eyes widen in surprise. "You're kidding?"

Something about the complete disbelief that warps his features makes me laugh. "I thought maybe Will had told you. I see him all the time at that little coffee shop on Dearborn."

"He didn't mention anything." There is a note of sadness in his voice, or at least distant disappointment, though he is quick to mask it. "So what? You get bored working undercover?"

"You knew I was undercover?"

"Word travels."

He flashes that lopsided smile of his and I'm transported back in time, and instead of this waiting room, we're at his family's cabin. It's the fourth of July and we're waiting for the fireworks to begin. The night is warm and charged with happy anticipation. I can almost smell that fresh, woodsy fragrance, a commingling of drying herbs, flowers, and roots in the air.

"Hailey?" he says, nudging me, breaking my momentary daze. "Where'd you go?"

I feel the blood rush to my face. It betrays emotions I'd rather Jay not see. I try and clean my throat, but the sound comes out as a hiccup grunt. Jay's eyes soften as if my facial expression is giving me away. He's always been able to read me like a book.

"We have a lot of good memories, don't we? When I Look back," he adds, his voice even, "You are in all of my favorite memories."

His words cause a tumble of emotion to roll through me. Even after all these years, Jay can shift my entire center of gravity. "Jay—"

"Look, I'm not going to ask for forgiveness, and God knows, I don't deserve it after what happened." He moves an inch closer and seems to be restraining himself, with great difficulty, from moving closer. "It was my fault, I should've—"

"Jay, don't. I-I don't blame you," I say and Jay scoffs. I hate that scoff.

Then he says the damning words, "I blame myself."

"I don't," I start to say in a voice that sounds a hell of a lot more confident than I feel. "I don't blame anyone. It just wasn't meant to be."

Jay shakes his head. "I was selfish and I couldn't see past my own—"

"Jay," I cut in, my throat now thick with emerging tears. The wounds inside me ache, raw and still gaping. I hate this conversation. I hate it because I can't hide my feelings on this, and I hate that I have feelings on the subject at all. "I can't do this right now." Or ever, I want to add.

Jay looks like someone who's been stabbed through the heart. "I-I'm sorry, Hailey. I just—"

"I get it. I-It's fine. I just—" A tear trickles down my cheek. Damn it! "I have to go." Unable to be in his presence for another second, I push past him, only to be surprised by the warm curl of his hand around my arm.

"Hailey, wait…"

He halts me and I stared up at him, his throat bob as he swallows. Jay is so close. I try to ignore the familiar spice of his cologne and the fact that he is the only guy capable of making me feel this vulnerable.

I used to like that feeling.

Not so much anymore.

"I-I need to go, Jay," I say and although I try to keep a calm, level tone there is an unmistakable ring of panic in it.

"Can we grab a coffee sometime?"

I shake my head. "I don't think that's a good idea." He leans closer and I feel that traitorous flutter of butterflies as I look into his eyes.

"I just want to talk to you," he says, his expression soft on me, not even trying to mask his feelings. "I just want the chance to clear the air."

I tug free from his grip and start to back away towards the exit. My heart is beating hard, pounding as if trying to break free of my rib cage.

"There's nothing to say."

"Hailey–"

"I-I have to go."

I don't spare him another glace. I can't. Instead, I walk away, as I did five years ago. My insides are jumbled, and I know that this is one of those moments I will remember, think of, and turn over in my brain again and again. But my hope is that I won't need to think about him, my past, or the pain. Pretend it's fine and it will be.

Even if I know that's a lie.

x

Whatever confidence I felt before returning to Chicago is completely gone.

Seeing Jay shook me to my core. I thought that time had healed my broken heart. But I've come to find out that time didn't heal anything. It tricked me into thinking I was better when I am obviously not. Time made me think I had overcome the pain of my past, but I clearly haven't. Time did nothing but make me forget how much it hurt, but it didn't heal.

Seeing Jay again brought all that pain to the surface. Everything I felt five years ago – anger, fear, love, resentment – flooded my veins like poison, eating away at me, corroding my sanity.

It's been a whole week since I saw Jay and I still can't shake this unsteady emotional state I find myself in. It's like I've lost all my senses, and am ricocheting like an emotional pinball off one mood and into another.

What Jay and I had was real love. The kind that won't let you sleep, the kind that won't let you eat, the all-consuming kind. I'm terrified. Terrified by this want to have him wrap his arms around me again. Terrified by my longing to press my lips against his and taste the familiar sweetness of his kiss. Jay is the epitome of kryptonite to my resolve. If I don't keep myself in check, I'll be right back where I was five years ago.

To make matters worse, things at work aren't going so great either. For the last three weeks, I've been after a robbery crew targeting credit unions. I'm close to identifying them, but nowhere near having enough to charge anyone yet. I feel like I'm running in circles in a hamster wheel, and with every robbery, this screw becomes more brazen.

I'm arriving at work when my two-way comes to life. "Units on the City Wide. We have a hold-up alarm at 680 North Michigan, North Schiller Credit Union. We're getting multiple calls of shots fired. Bank robbery in progress."

"Damn it!" I hit my steering wheel as I pull a u-turn in the parking lot and get back on the road. The crew is at it again!

By the time I arrive, the street is already full of beat cops and curious bystanders ambling all over my crime scene. That yellow tape needs to be moved at least fifty yards back. I march into the credit union and tell a PO to do just that.

I walk further inside and come face to face again with none other than Jay Halstead. He is standing there with another detective and sergeant Voight; whose ruthless reputation precedes him. I try desperately to remain composed and seem natural if not nonchalant. I take a deep steady breath.

"Detective Upton. Robbery-Homicide," I introduce myself.

"Hank Voight. Intelligence."

"Well, I appreciate the help, Sergeant, but as of now this is my scene."

"My team recovered evidence, save a woman's life. we're running point."

I look past him, "Make sure those shell casings are photo'd, bagged, and tagged." I meet Hank's gaze again. "I've been after this crew for the last three weeks."

"Huh. Then why did my team respond first?"

The nerve. "I'm from Robbery-Homicide. There's been a robbery and a homicide here. So, I'd appreciated it you vacated my scene." I can't keep the bite in my tone. I turn on my heels and I walk away, feeling their eyes burning into my back.

But despite my best efforts, the case is taken from me. My unit can't compete with intelligence and after an embarrassing trip to the 21st district, I get told to hand over all my files to Voight. It sucks that all the hard work I put in, all the hours I spent surveilling this crew, was for nothing. And in the end, Intelligence gets another notch on their belts.

However, a couple of days later I get called down to the 21st. My hunch was right – Lavar Spann is behind the bank heists. Everything happens so fast and I get looped into working with intelligence. I know it's a mistake, a ridiculously stupid one at that, but I accept because I need to see this case through.

For the most part, I don't cross paths with Jay, that is until I'm assigned a surveillance detail with him and an old-timer detective, Alvin Olinsky. I try to focus on the task, and not on the fact that I'm confined in a small space with Jay.

"Got to admit, there's something inspiring about this guy not letting his bum leg ruin his American dream," Jay says.

I chuckle. I haven't seen this side of him in a very long time. It's nice. "Sense of humor? Don't get that much on my current unit."

Jay pauses then asks, "Rumor has it you were meritoriously promoted to detective – is that right?" He seems so nonchalant about this. I want to look at him, see his face, see if he's as unaffected as he sounds, because I know he's dying to get more details.

"Yeah, that's right."

"What, you shake your feather in front of the right commander, or is your uncle an alderman?" Olinsky pipes up.

I sigh. "I was undercover for a year. So put that in your pipe and smoke it."

"Would you like to elaborate on this UC case for us?" Jay asks and I don't dare look into his eyes. I know what he is doing, he is trying to get all the information he possibly can out of me with these apparently innocent questions.

"I would love to, but I'm under a gag order from the AUSA's office. It's still being adjudicated. The US attorney's office made it clean; if I talk, I get fired. And no offense, but this is the first time in the back of your van," I say and look straight at him.

I can see how disconcerted Jay gets, his cheeks flush and the tips of his ears turn pink. I know what he is thinking, I can see the images flooding his mind because it's the same movie playing in mine. Hot summer day. Ocean water on our skin. Sand in our hair. Kissing. Touching. Coming together for the first time in the back of a rental van (gasp!). I remember worrying that our friends would show up, but the thought had been easy to chase away when Jay licked every last bit of saltwater from my skin.

I feel a warm blush spread over my cheeks and neck. I clear my throat and turn my focus on the camera I'm holding, trying to hide the effects of those thoughts.

"Hey, check it out," I say, turning our focus back to Spann.

God knows what else Jay will try to get out of me. And knowing my current chaotic emotional state, I will probably hand it to him.

x

The case takes a downward turn when Spann starts tying up loose ends. And here is where I see why Intelligence is the most elite unit in CPD. Not only does each member pack a punch, but they have full autonomy. Their actions are precise, methodical, exhaustively deliberate, and rarely if ever impulsive. I'm glad to see Jay found a home here. I always knew he would be an amazing detective. After all, Jay is all heart.

At the end of the day, the case falls apart when Voight denies a young offender's testimony. But at least we can put Spann away, even if it is only for a parole violation.

I'm at the rollup collecting my thoughts when I feel a familiar shift in the air as Jay comes to stand next to me.

"You did good," he says. "You're perfect for the job."

I smile. "Thank you."

With the shock of our first encounter behind us, the mood is slightly normal, though I still feel his presence knocking me off my axis.

"Too bad we couldn't make the case, though," he adds. "But I think Voight made the right call."

I nod. "Me too. I don't know anyone in CPD who would do what Voight did."

Jay chuckles. "Voight is a lot of things, but he isn't as coldhearted as they make him out to be. He knows the system and he takes full advantage, but never at anyone's cost. We disagree on a lot of things, but the man has my respect."

"You guys have a good thing going here," I say.

An easy smile pulls at the corner of his lips. "Yeah. I really like working in this unit. I did a stint at Organized Crimes, but it doesn't compare. How's Robbery-homicide?"

I shrug. "I've been in it for a couple of months, so I rather not jump to any conclusions," I say carefully.

He's amused, based on the tilt of his head and the cocksure of his grin. "Hailey Upton, keeping her comments to herself. I'm impressed."

I smile and nudge him a little, trying to keep the conversation light. "I'm the new kid. So, it is probably in my best interest to not trash talk my supervisors."

Jay laughs, and his eyes crinkle up, a dimple punctuating one cheek. "Probably a good thing." After a beat he asks, "Hey, how's your dad, by the way."

"He'll live," I say, my voice devoid of any emotion. When I don't elaborate, he gives me a head nod "All those years he spent drinking are finally catching up to him." The words are out of my mouth before I even have time to think and I wince.

Jay doesn't respond, but by the look in his eyes I know he doesn't hold my words against me. He knows who my father is, so I don't have to pretend to care with him. Folding his arms over his chest, he allows one of those slow, lazy smiles to curve his lips.

"So," he begins and I see a glint of humor in his eyes. A slow smile pulls at his lips, and his expression becomes soft, almost lazy, gazing at me. My stomach clenches like it hasn't in a long time. "Tell me about this year-long UC case, since it was not your first time in the back on my van."

I laugh and shake my head, resisting the impulse to place my hands against my hot cheeks. "Heroine distribution case. We caught the guy, but not all charges have been filed. One of them being the murder of an undercover detective."

Jay nods. "Can't find the body?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry, Hailey. That sounds rough."

The sincerity in his voice breaks my heart a little. I didn't even know my heart was capable of that anymore. I can feel my emotions pressing against my resolve, searching for the slightest crack in it. "At least he is in jail," I manage to get out.

"Small mercies," he says.

We fall silent, and I realize that this is my cue to leave. To be honest, I'm still not ready for him to stand this close or for us to talk like we are friends. I break eye contact, taking a few steps back. "I should go," I say quickly, though it is hard to turn away from him.

"Oh, before you go. Voight wants to see you in his office."

"Am I in trouble?" I ask, only half-jokingly.

"Don't think so," he says. "Probably just wants to give you the case back, though there isn't much left."

I smile. "It's all good. I will still have it."

We stand there for an awkward moment, lingering. I guess there isn't anything superficial or safe enough for us to chat about. Even if we ignore the elephant in the room and focus on other things, it will only be a matter of time before it inadvertently barrels over us.

"See you around, Hailey," Jay says. "And I'm here to talk shop, wherever."

I nod. "I will send for loukoumades as a thank you for letting me roll with you guys."

His eyes light up. "Homemade by your mom?"

"I think I can arrange that," I smile, lingering for a moment... Then I turn back towards the staircase. "See you around, Jay," I toss over my shoulder.

"Right. See you around," he says.

Though I'm walking up the stairs with my back to him, I know he's smiling at me; I can feel it, just a little twist of a smile around his lips.

I meet with Voight and he actually wants to give me more than my case back. He offers me a position in Intelligence. I'm completely taken aback, but immensely flattered. I don't give him an answer just yet. I can't. Although this is a chance of a lifetime, it is a double-edged sword. There is an equal chance I will finally find my purpose in Chicago but at a great cost. Mainly, my heart.

I stand in his doorway, and ask, "Open or closed?"

"Open."

I guess the doors of opportunity hinge on my ability to maintain my sanity in the presence of the boy I love(d). Can it be done? I'm not sure. But I have to try.

Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think and if there's interest for me to continue. Cheers, D.