Roger Peralta is dead.

Jake and Amy were leaving the precinct together after a long day at work, chatting happily when Jake got the call.

"Sorry, it's my mom." He showed her his buzzing phone before he picked up. He had a big goofy grin on his face and Amy, too, was smiling broadly – the remnants of the laughter they shared after he said something funny to her. All in all, some classic Jake/Amy moment like they became used to through the years of their partnership turned into real friendship.

(In hindsight, if she'd known the news that was to come with this call, she'd have cherished this moment more. She misses his smile already.)

She patiently watched from afar as he was pacing back and forth in the parking lot, deeply lost in his conversation. She waited for him with that same dreamy beam that wouldn't want to leave her face and unconsciously tucked her hair behind both ears at the same time as she did so. His back was on her so she couldn't see his own features harden with each new piece of information given to him through the phone. It's only when he hung up and turned to her again that she knew something was wrong.

He was looking down at the floor when he approached her, his hands fiddling with the device, shaking a little. Her heart dropped at the sight – completely sunk at his broken voice.

"So, uh–… my father's dead. Had a heart attack." He finally managed to put his gaze back on her. He brought one of his hands to his hair and scratched the back of his head in a nervous tic.

Amy knew the two weren't close. She knew all about their complicated relationship and how Jake cut him out of his life after the last time he came to "visit" him (rather use his son's job to get away with some issues). Still, she could see how much the news was affecting him – and rightly so. That's why she offered to drive him to his mother's home where the rest of his family was already gathering together.

He clearly couldn't get on the road in such a devastated state of mind. And she wanted to be there for him. Because she cared for him. She really did.

Little did she know he would ask – nay, plead – her to go inside with him when she pulled over in front of the house. And of course, she couldn't say no. Not when he was looking at her like he was on the verge of breaking down and she was the only thing able to keep him together at this point. Not when he grabbed her hand in his and squeezed as he spoke, not wanting to let it go.

"Please, Ames."

He did let it go, though. Disappeared into his room after his mother told him something – something upsetting, apparently. Leaving her as she is right now: sitting awkwardly on the couch in the living room with her palms flat on her lap and another woman's gaze stuck on her in a very unnerving silence. She's studying her with a frown.

"And who are you supposed to be?" Aunt Linda – or at least, that's the name Amy heard Jake use to greet her earlier when she pulled him into a tight hug – finally asks.

"I'm, uh–… I'm Amy. Jake's colleague. And friend." Amy attempts a polite smile. "He asked me to come with him," she feels the urge to add. She doesn't want to seem like an intruder – which she kind of is. This is a family matter and she's not his family. At least not in that sense.

"Friend, uh?" the other repeats in a skeptical tone. Next to her, she can see Karen's lip curve up into a mysterious smile as though she knows something. Amy can feel the tip of her ears start to burn.

This is embarrassing.

"Yes. I should probably go check on him. Again, I'm sorry for your loss." Amy quickly leaves both women alone, seeing her chance to finally escape too.

The door to Jake's childhood room is wide open when Amy reaches it. She finds him lying on his bed with his back on her and looking at the wall in front of him. She watches him, frozen in place, for a beat. It might not be the first time she's seeing him down but still – he's usually the beacon of light in her life; getting a glimpse of him in his darkest hours is pretty unsettling.

And depressing. This man deserves the world.

"Can I come in?" she softly asks as she knocks on the door to make her presence known. He doesn't say a word but she notices how his head slightly moves against his pillow in an agreement. She carefully approaches him and sits down on the free space next to him, looking around. Under better circumstances, she'd find there's a lot she could use to make fun of him on his younger days, from posters to pictures to even more knick-knacks than the bunch of toys scattered on his desk back at the precinct. But now's not the time.

Amy sets her gaze on Jake and puts a hand on his shoulder. "Is there something I can do?"

"Lie with me?" he's strangely quick to answer, still not looking at her. Amy hesitates for a second before she obeys – his voice is so vulnerable it's impossible to say no to him. She takes off her shoes and lies next to him, tentatively wrapping her hands around his middle to keep him close. She hears him release a sigh under her touch and can feel his tense body relax a little against her chest. She lays her head on his shoulder and they remain silent for a while.

Amy tries not to think too much about the way her heart races at this newfound proximity and how the tip of her ears is burning in an upcoming blush. This is not the time.

"I'm sorry I left you alone with my aunt and my mother but they want me to say something at the funeral," Jake's voice eventually rises through the air. "I can't do it."

Amy takes a deep breath. It's hard to stay strong when one of the persons you care about the most is completely broken. It's hard to find the right, hopefully soothing words in such a situation as well.

"You don't have to if you don't want to." She pauses for a beat before she goes on. "Though it might help you get some closure, y'know." She's careful with what she says – the last thing she wants is to upset him and for Jake to shut her out just like he previously did with the two members of his family when they suggested it. Especially when he clearly seems to need someone to talk to.

"The man's a selfish drunken slut. No one wants to hear what I have to say about him."

Amy doesn't know what to answer. Heavy silence fills the room for a moment until Jake lets out a desperate sigh and eventually lets everything out.

"I don't know why I'm so upset he's dead. I had already cut him out of my life. It's not like I was going to see him again after last time so it doesn't change much for me. But still, it feels like he's abandoning me. Again. Which is dumb, because for once it's not even his fault."

Amy unhooks one of her hands from his middle and brings it to his arm, gently stroking as she speaks and looking up at his face. "It's not dumb. I guess you could still keep hoping he was gonna change when he was alive, and now he can't anymore. It's a pretty normal reaction to feel sad that he's gone."

Another sigh escapes Jake's mouth and she can feel his hands tightening on her grip so that she holds him closer.

"Thanks for being here."

It makes Amy smile slightly as she squeezes his hand in hers. "Anytime. You know I'm never gonna abandon you, right?" She feels like she has to remind him – like he could use such a promise right now.

As the only answer, he nods before they fall back into silence for a moment.

"I really like you, Ames," he eventually – unexpectedly – spills it all out in a whisper and Amy's body tenses in reaction. She's not so sure she heard him right.

Her heart is pounding so fast in her chest she can actually hear it resonating in her burning ears.

"What?" is all she manages to say.

He turns around to face her. His eyes are piercing right through her core, shining from desperation but also something new and lighter that makes her swoon.

"I've been meaning to ask you out for a while now. It's probably not the right time to tell you this but since you can apparently die unexpectedly…" he trails off as he lowers his gaze.

There are a lot of thoughts going around Amy's mind following this confession. A lot of emotions taking over her heart. Jake likes her. Has had for a while, apparently. Some part of her, the part she's been trying to keep locked the deeper away she could after that disaster of a road trip they took a few weeks ago, is absolutely thrilled about the news – because she likes him as well.

Still, though, the reasonable part of her can't stop reminding her about their current situation. Jake just lost his father.

They're really not the best with timings when it comes to admitting their feelings.

"Jake, I–…" The words get stuck at the back of her throat.

"You don't have to go soft on me just because I lost someone today, Santiago." Jake forces a chuckle but the nervousness is easily recognizable in his voice.

Immediately her expression softens and she rushes to clear things up before he misunderstands her.

"No, no! I like you too. It's just–…"

"You do?" His eyes light up as he doesn't let her finish her sentence. It reminds her of the way he stared at her when Teddy spilled the truth about her feelings towards him during their breakup – although it's intensified here. Her heart warms up in her chest and she smiles at him, fond and sincere.

Screw the bad timing, she thinks.

"Yeah."

For the first time ever since he got the call, she gets a glimpse of the real Jake through his joyous, goofy grin for a moment while realization seems to hit him. She likes him.

They're already really close – lying face-to-face and invading each other's personal space like never before but Jake leans in even more, pressing his lips against hers in a small demanding kiss. Amy's quick to respond, closing her eyes as she brings a hand to his cheek and he grabs her waist with his. There's a new glint shining inside his eyes when they part – and she's pretty sure she's wearing a similar awestruck expression on her own face.

Amy knows this is just a truce in the middle of the many wrecked emotions Jake's about to face in the following days – weeks, even – but for now she's just glad to see him smile again.

And in any case, she's going to be by his side every step of the way as she swore she would never abandon him. She well intends to keep this promise.