.: how it feels to have a heartbeat :.
"We're not who we used to be/ We're just two ghosts standing in the place of you and me/ Trying to remember how it feels to have a heartbeat." — Two Ghosts, Harry Styles
Jay faced away from her, his left arm shoved under his pillow and his right almost hanging off the side of the mattress. He breathed steadily, his back rising in an even motion as he slept deeply.
Hailey was wide awake next to him, her eyes aching from exhaustion. Just because her secrets were out in the open, just because Jay knew everything now, didn't magically mean she could sleep. Her burden may be a shared one, but half of it was still a lot to carry. And the silence from Jay these past two weeks was almost worse than the anxiety and panic regarding Roy—scratch that, it was worse.
She'd been afraid that once Jay knew, he'd leave. That he'd be so upset and disgusted with what she'd done that it'd mean the end of them. In hindsight, she knew those fears were unfounded. Jay wouldn't just walk out, it wasn't in his nature. But she thought the mental checkout he'd done regarding her hurt more than if he'd just left. She felt, sometimes, that he wanted to leave, that he wanted to cut his losses and run, but he just couldn't make himself do it.
The half of her that wasn't waiting for him to leave was waiting for the other shoe to drop. She'd done something wrong, she knew that. And Jay had every right to be angry with her, but his silence made her anxious, made her jumpy in a way that she hadn't been in years.
She missed him, and he was right there.
She shifted closer to him, close enough to feel his warmth but not close enough to touch. They were like two positive charges, hovering without connecting.
She didn't want to wake him, didn't want to have to experience him pulling away from her touch, but she risked pressing her forehead into his back, just a single point of contact. The muscles in his back bunched, and she tensed, holding her breath and already preparing an apology. But he stilled, and she hated herself a little bit for the relief she felt. Hailey breathed him in and tucked her hands up under her chin, willing away the sudden onslaught of tears.
She just wanted to sleep.
She just wanted things to go back to normal, back to the way they were.
Hailey woke up alone.
She reached across the bed to where Jay should have been to find the sheets already cold.
The clinking of Hailey's keys against the bowl on their entry table seemed too loud in the quiet of their empty apartment. She dropped her duffle bag with a thud and toed off her shoes. She walked through the apartment in a bit of a daze, shedding her clothes as she went, mindless of the piles she left in her wake.
The bathroom tile was cold under her bare feet and so was the water that rushed over her hand when she turned the shower on. She had enough presence of mind not to subject herself to a cold shower, so she slid down the vanity to sit on the soft bath-rug to wait, pulling her legs to her chest and wrapping her arms around her bent knees.
She'd been shot at today. So had Jay, and when he hadn't immediately answered her "you okay?" her heart had stopped dead in her chest. She knew she kept devolving, kept reasoning with herself that things were okay as they were because it could always be worse, but an injured Jay was the worst case scenario. And it could've happened today. She could've lost him entirely and their last moments would've been spent in horrible, tense silence.
She pressed her forehead into her knees and breathed in the warm steam. God, she was tired. Tired in her bones, and a sort of weary she'd never been before. Even the thought of pushing herself off the floor and taking the two steps to the shower exhausted her.
So that was how Jay found her, naked on the bathroom floor, the mirrors fogged up and the air thick with steam.
"Hailey?" His hands settled on her shoulders and startled her. She jumped and flinched away from him instinctively, but when he went to pull his hands away, she seized his wrists and kept him close. It's the boldest she'd been with touching him in weeks, but him knowing she wasn't afraid of him was more important than the distance between them.
"Hi," she greeted, her voice small and slightly hoarse. She looked up at him, up into his green eyes, and just…took him in. She needed her brain to accept that he was fine, that nothing had actually happened today.
She couldn't read his expression as he looked her over, as he gently ran one hand down her bare arm. Had they fallen that far? Far enough that she didn't know his every look?
His other hand settled on her knee and he moved almost imperceptibly closer. She wanted to lean into him, into the comfort his hands promised, but that…that wasn't something they did these days.
"Are you okay?" he eventually asked.
Hailey started to shake her head, but stopped. He was upset with her, and his worry in this situation didn't preclude him from that anger. She didn't want to force him to reassure her. Because he would. He would listen attentively to everything that was bothering her, and he'd help her work through it, understand it. He'd comfort her because she asked for comfort, and she'd hate that unknown variable.
That unknown of whether he actually wanted to be comforting her.
So she said, "I'm fine," with a forced, sheepish smile. She pushed to her feet and avoided his eyes as she reached for a towel to hang next to the shower door. "Sorry," she felt compelled to add.
"Are you su—?"
"Yeah." She gripped the shower-door handle, keenly aware of her nakedness as she forced herself to pause and look back to him. He still sat on the floor, one leg to his chest and one cocked out at an angle in front of him. "I didn't mean to"—she waved a hand—"make a fuss, or anything."
The expression that settled on his face then was recognizable. It was the old Jay that sat on their bathroom floor, the old Jay that pushed to his feet and closed the distance between them. She felt a swell of hope in her chest, then. Maybe everything wasn't lost, maybe they weren't lost.
She didn't know what she thought he was going to do when he stopped in front of her, but a hand to her shoulder wasn't it. She knew her expression dropped by the way his brows furrowed, but he just said, "I'll order some dinner," and left the room.
Hailey watched the door close behind him and forced herself not to flinch when it snicked shut with a quiet click.
She got in the shower, mourning the loss of him even though he'd just stood in front of her.
"But I'm still me. You're acting like I'm not. You barely talk to me…I-I don't know what to do anymore."
Her chest twisted and there's a burning in her throat that she tried and failed to swallow away.
"I don't know either," he said. She couldn't stop staring at his eyes, at the way they reddened and locked away his emotions. "I am doing…the best that I can with it, Hailey. Right now, this is the best that I've got."
When he left the room, it felt like he took half of her with him.
The green clock on the stove read three am, and Hailey hadn't gotten a single wink of sleep. Her limbs felt heavy as she reached for a glass, so she should've known she'd drop it.
When it shattered across the floor, across her bare feet, Hailey just stared down at the mess and felt like shattering herself. She hated the way the small cut on her ankle made her feel, hated that her first thought was "That's it? That's all the feeling I get from this?"
She was so focused on the minuscule drop of blood that beaded on the wound that she didn't hear Jay approach. So focused that not even the kitchen lights flicking on surprised her. She didn't even look up at him when he said her name, just mumbled, "I'll get the broom" and took a step toward the pantry, heedless of the dangerous mess.
But Jay snagged her around the waist before she could move, his slippers screeching the glass across the floor in a horrid cacophony of sound. She'd made fun of him for those slippers once, called him 'grandpa' and made his lips quirk. He wasn't smiling now, though. He was stern and his body was tense against hers.
She was vaguely aware that this was the most physical contact they'd had in weeks. It confused her, all the touching. It made her forget there was a reason they'd become distant. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into her—rather, pulled herself into him.
He lifted her to the counter, glass still crunching under his feet, and she wrapped her legs around him, too. She pressed her face into his neck, breathed in his familiar scent, and tightened her hold.
"Hailey…"
She interrupted before he could ask her to let go, before he moved away, "I miss you."
"Hailey, I'm worried about you."
She sunk a little further into her abyss. He shouldn't worry about her. She was just Hailey—she was messed up and learning to adapt to it, learning to adapt to her new normal.
"I miss you," she repeated.
He wrapped his other arm around her waist. "I'm right here, Hails."
No, no he wasn't.
Hailey went to work without really knowing how she got there. She typed on her computer and spoke to the others without really knowing where the words came from. She stared at the pictures on the whiteboard and at the files in front of her without really seeing them.
She'd almost packed a bag today. When she'd pulled her dirty clothes out of her work duffle, she'd seriously contemplated shoving them back in, grabbing one of Jay's sweatshirts, and walking back out the door.
But she couldn't make herself do it. Especially not with him in the kitchen, making them dinner. The furthest she came was pulling his sweatshirt over her head. The fabric smelled like him, and she'd dropped her duffle and moved to their bed, settling on his side of it.
She hated that she felt like she was invading his space simply by resting her head on his pillow. Hated that that made her hate herself, just a bit. So she forced herself to stay where she was.
Jay peeked his head around the door frame about twenty minutes later, and she thought she saw his eyes soften when they took her in. But he just cleared his throat and said "Pasta's done."
She didn't want to keep him waiting, even if the thought of eating made her stomach twist with nausea.
She ate enough of the food to be polite, but when she rose halfway from her chair to clear her plate, Jay asked, "Is that all you're gonna eat?"
She immediately sat back down and picked up her fork. "Sorry," she replied, pushing her food around.
He covered her hand with his and gave it a squeeze. "I'm just concerned. I didn't see you eat today, or, really, yesterday, for that matter. I don't want you to get sick, I love you too mu—"
"I know you love me, Jay," she interrupted, her voice cracking. She looked at their joined hands. "But I don't think you like me anymore." She barreled on before he could speak. "Which I don't blame you—I don't really like myself much these days either. And I think—"
"Hailey," Jay whispered.
"No, it's okay…" She pulled her hand free and frantically wiped at her cheeks. She was used to being loved but not liked, it was how she grew up, after all. This was familiar territory, and even if it hurt—even if it ripped her up from the inside out—having Jay here like this really was better than not having him at all.
She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around herself. She whispered again, "It's okay."
A month and a half after she awoke to Jay standing in the doorway to their bedroom, she broke. She couldn't do it anymore. Hailey felt like a ghost, like she was haunting their apartment. Just an apparition that floated through life, something Jay's hands passed through like mist.
She couldn't describe the defeat she felt as she pushed the covers from her body and forced herself to her feet. She followed the sounds of the burbling coffee maker to the kitchen. Jay stood at the counter, his back to her and his short hair mussed.
She needed him. Needed him like she needed air. There was no doubt in her mind that Jay Halstead was the love of her life, and there was a decent sized part of her that truly believed she was the love of his. But there was that thing about great loves…so many of them ended in heartbreak.
She didn't think she'd ever have a great love, but now that she has, it seemed fitting that it wouldn't last. She was Greek, after all, she saw tragedy in everything.
Hailey knew she couldn't go on the way she had been. The way they had been. It was killing her. She'd been lying to herself for weeks, thinking that having some form of Jay was better than not having him at all. But all she could think about when she looked at him, when she spoke to him, was that this wasn't her Jay. She'd lost him the second she'd pulled the trigger, it had just taken her a while to realize it, to accept it.
She watched him pull two mugs from the cupboard and fill them with coffee.
"Jay," she tried to call, but her voice was hoarse and cracked. He didn't hear her. God, just because she'd decided this was for the best didn't mean she could do it. Her entire being protested against the words she needed to say, the steps she needed to take. "Jay."
He turned at her voice and, inexplicably, a small smile quirked his lips.
"Morning," he greeted. He gathered the mugs in his hands and walked toward her. "You wanna go to that overrated breakfast place we love?"
She felt whiplashed. Felt like someone had plucked her from her miserable timeline and transported her back to the life she'd had pre-Roy. She tentatively took the proffered mug from his hand, raking her eyes over his face and trying to decipher his expression.
He looked…nervous? His eyes were earnest, and his face was generally relaxed, but there was a twitching in his jaw that gave him away. He made an aborted movement with his hand, and she'd give anything to know what he'd planned to do.
There was a wary part of Hailey's mind that worried this was all a trick, a game to put her at ease, but she'd woken up today ready to admit defeat, ready to succumb to what she'd felt had become her painful reality, and no outcome could be worse than that.
She stepped closer to him and, heart in her throat, said, "I'd love to."
I'd love to.
Jay reached with his free hand to tuck a strand of her messy blonde hair behind her ear, fingertips lingering on her skin. It felt like the most natural feeling in the world to touch her so gently like this, and the fact that it'd been so long since he'd done so gutted him.
He'd need time to work through everything, time to compartmentalize it so he didn't lash out in anger when it wasn't really her he was angry with. No matter what Hailey did, she didn't deserve to be screamed at, didn't deserve an unkind word unleashed in anger. No, Voight occupied the majority of his anger, and Jay…well, the rest of it was directed at himself. Because he hadn't been able to stop it from happening, and he hadn't been able to see it in Hailey's eyes until she was tearing herself apart with the weight of it.
He'd been upset she hadn't told him, hadn't trusted him enough to burden him with it until he'd learned about it all from someone else, but not angry. And after she'd startled awake that first night and silently realized he knew what had happened, the first thing out of her mouth had been "I wasn't allowed to tell you."
Her voice had been cracked and broken, but she hadn't cried. She'd just looked scared, and it was a type of scared that twisted up his insides, that made him want to burn the world for her. The type of scared that vanished his anger toward her.
He could've said "This was something I needed to know." Could've said "But it's me. We don't keep secrets from each other." Or even asked "Allowed?" He probably should have, but when she'd brushed her hair from her face with a trembling hand, when he saw the almost-empty whiskey glass and bottle of pain meds on her nightstand, all the words stuck in his throat.
So he'd bottled it up.
He'd woken up this morning and pressed a kiss to her brow like he always used to, and his bones had settled. He'd known everything was going to be fine, known they would work things out properly and be even better than they once were. It was as if everything had clicked in his brain. He couldn't properly explain why he felt level about things now, but he did. He certainly wasn't going to question it.
And Hailey's quiet, broken "It's okay" in their kitchen the other week had kicked him in the ass—had completely gutted him, wrecked more completely than anything else ever had, then kicked him in the ass.
He'd known that his distance had been hurting her, had been making her doubt herself and them. But he hadn't been able to make himself do anything about it. Some nights, when she'd managed to fall asleep, he'd gather her close and just hold her until her brow unfurrowed and she relaxed. He'd felt like a thief in the night, stealing her affection and then sneaking out of bed before dawn broke. She deserved better than that from him.
"Jay," she whispered. "I'm sorr—"
"Don't," he interrupted. "Don't apologize, Hails. Not to me."
There was more he needed to say, more apologies he needed to make, but there'd be time for that later. Her eyes were swimming as she peered up at him, her brows furrowed. She looked surprised, actually. He couldn't blame her.
He trailed his fingers down her jawline and angled her chin, leaning down and catching her lips with his. Her gasp was warm against his skin, and he swallowed her surprise and pressed on until she kissed him back. He gently wound his arm around her back, mindful of his coffee as he pulled her closer and kissed her harder. God, he'd missed her, too. Missed her with a desperate need that bubbled up in him with every quiet, eager noise that escaped her.
Her fingers scratched up the nape of his neck, and he felt a dribble of warm coffee spill over his chest when she rose further onto her tiptoes to press into him. It made him smile, made him push his hand into her hair and hold her close. But then he broke the kiss, only to pepper more kisses down her neck because he couldn't quite bring himself to step back.
She laughed lightly into his chest, her check resting where his heart beat out of his chest. Her voice was confused when she said, "What is—?"
He tipped his face to her hair and breathed her in. "We're gonna be fine."
this is over 3k words of angst, hurt, and very little comfort. idk why i wrote this bc i just hurt myself more with it, but i needed to at least get these words out of my brain. this was disjointed as hell, but i think it works better this way. i also completely LOVE that i was proven wrong in my assumption that we were gonna suffer before we got a happy upstead reconciliation. 9x08 really said "i got you upstead fans" and then fed us a full course meal.
i hope you either loved this, or hated it so much that it made you feel things. thanks for reading :)