A/N: apologies for the slow updates and for any spelling mistakes this chapter - got a lot of family stuff going on at the moment so haven't had much time to write or edit but i'll do my best to get more regular updates out soon! Thank you all for sticking with me :)
enjoy!
"Hey, it's all me, in my head
I'm the one who burned us down
But it's not what I meant
Sorry that I hurt you."
Taylor Swift - Afterglow
November 2019
Jay stared at the floorboards in the living room, the dark red stain eating away at him like it was the wood. It had been four days since Erin had woken up and with each day, she pushed him further and further away.
He could handle it. That's what he kept telling himself. Once things started to settle down, once Erin got to spend time with the baby and they were both home; things would get better. They would be okay again. Everything would go back to normal.
He kept telling himself that, hoping that if he said it enough times, he might actually start to believe it; it might just erase the turn for the worse that today had taken.
"It's going to be okay," He'd told her.
"You can't say that, you can't possibly tell me that when everything the doctors are telling us says otherwise." Erin cried.
He can still remember how broken Erin looked, sounded, and how quickly that all changed when he told her, "It sucks that you've got to stay in the hospital a few more days, but it's not the end of the world. We can get through this."
He knew instantly that it had upset her. Felt it in the way she stiffened from her spot under his arm, tucked into his chest. "I'm allowed to be upset, Jay. I haven't seen my baby in four days, and now the doctors are saying I have to stay for at least three more days because this stupid scar isn't healing. You can't possibly understand how I'm feeling, so stop telling me how bad this isn't."
He tried to fix it. To explain that wasn't his intention, that he was trying to focus on the positives; the baby was doing better, he was healing and growing stronger each day; he would still be waiting for his mama whenever she was finally healed and allowed to see him.
But she'd brushed him off quickly after that. Muttered something about feeling tired and wanting to be alone, then turned away from him and slid down the hospital bed, tucking hierself under the covers. And Jay didn't know how to fix it then - didn't know what else to do but walk away and hope that they would be able to talk it over in the morning.
He knew it was a lot for her, because it was a lot for him too. There were so many things spinning out of control, so many potholes in the road that they hadn't seen coming; nothing was going according to plan.
And as Jay got down on his hands and knees, he told himself that if he could just get things back to normal, it would all work itself out. As he dunked the sponge in the bucket of soapy hot water, he thought about everything that was going wrong in their lives, everything he couldn't fix. He pushed the sponge against the hardwood floors, watching the foam turn pink as he scrubbed, ignoring the way his legs cramped from crouching for so long and the muscles in his arms stung from vigorously he worked the sponge against the floor.
There wasn't much he could control, nor a lot he could fix; but he could do this. He could clean up some of the mess that their lives had become.
If he focused on what he could fix, everything else would follow suit. It had to.
The day had finally arrived. After six days of healing, almost one week since giving birth, Erin was finally being taken upstairs to meet their son.
Andrew William Halstead.
The middle name had been Everly's idea. Her parents had been trying to figure out if they wanted to give their son a middle name at all, when Everly suggested her uncle's name as inspiration for her baby brother. Will and Natalie had both been detrimental in keeping Erin and Andrew safe that night - they truly might not be here without the two of them, and it felt right that andrew's name should reflect the wonderful family they had who played such a big part in his birth, and who would be a big part of the rest of Andrew's life.
Erin and Jay had also chosen Will and Natalie to be the baby's godparents. Everly had picked Adam and Kim to be hers - despite the fact that she had been given godparents by her birth parents when she was born, she had wanted to ask Kim and Adam to be hers as well, because they had been there for her since she came to live with Erin, and Everly loved them both as if they were another set of parents - to which Erin and Jay had agreed, and Kim and Adam had teared up before enthusiastically accepting the role.
Jay felt lighter today than he had in a long time. The weeks leading up to Andrew's birth had been tense between him and Erin, and it hadn't seemed to get any better over the past week. Jay could feel Erin pulling away from him, trying to deal with her feelings on her own, and it broke his heart to watch her suffer and feel helpless to do anything. But today he felt hopeful, optimistic that once Erin got to see Andrew - got to hold him in her arms and know with absolute certainty that he was safe and healthy and would be okay - everything would be easier. He blamed the friction between them on the unprecedented stress during this time. Now that things were finally starting to settle down, they would surely get back to normal again.
The butterflies in Erin's stomach seemed to grow larger and stronger as Jay pushed her wheelchair out of the elevator and towards the nursery doors. She hated having to sit in the wheelchair - she wanted to move around of her own free will, to get up and stretch her legs and move her body - but it was hospital policy if she wanted to go visit the baby, and she wanted that more than anything; so she stayed seated despite how much it annoyed her to do so. She was eager to meet her son, but also a little anxious. He'd been up here in the nursery without her, without his father or sister or anyone else for most of the time. Erin had this idea of how the first few weeks of his life were supposed to go, and none of this was part of the plan.
She was getting really sick and tired of life throwing curveballs into her plans.
Everly, Kim and Adam greeted them at the entrance to the nursery, Evie's smile wide and bright as she saw her parents.
"You're just in time, the nurse said he's ready for a feed." Evie said excitedly, "I asked her to wait for you, she said she would."
"Thanks sweetheart." Erin smiled at her daughter, Evie stepping forward to give her mama a hug, "You're such a good big sister already, Ev."
Evie flushed, avoiding the adults stares as they all nodded in agreement. Evie had taken to the role of big sister seamlessly. She was so in love with, and protective of, her little brother. It warmed her parents' hearts to see how well she was adjusting to this new role in their family, and to see the overwhelming love she already had for Andrew.
Everly led the way in, Jay pushing Erin behind her. Will smiled when he saw his brother and future sister-in-law, Erin's eyes focused on the baby in Will's arms.
"Welcome back, sis. Someone's been waiting to see you." Will says.
Erin feels her breath catch as Will walks towards her - this is it, it's finally happening - and then he's placing the baby down in her arms and suddenly she's here, in this moment she's waited just over thirty-seven weeks to arrive. Her baby boy, safe and healthy and in her arms.
"He has your eyes." Erin murmurs, the back of her hand gently stroking his cheek, "Halstead green."
Jay grins, "He's got your dimple, I think. Just there," he points to the slight indentation next to their son's lip, "Definitely your stubbornness."
"You say that like it's a bad thing." Will quips.
Jay shakes his head, "It's the best thing. He's strong, just like his mama."
"Isn't he cute?" Everly asks, standing beside her mum and leaning over her to look at the baby.
"He's perfect," Erin sniffles, "Absolutely perfect."
They sit in silence for a little while, Erin observing and memorising every little detail of her son's face. He looks so big already, so different from the baby she's seen pictures of over the last week. He's changed so quickly, she's already missed so much. As much as she's tried not to dwell on that fact, it was hard to ignore; she had already been absent in his short life.
"I'm sorry it took me so long to come visit." Erin leans down and whispers to the baby.
Jay squeezes her shoulder as he says, "You're here now, that's all that matters."
Erin looks up at him tearfully, "Can you believe we made this, him?"
"It still feels surreal." Jay leans down, hovering over her as he looks at their son. His arm comes around to rest under hers holding the baby, and Erin leans into him. Jay feels his heart settle in his chest - this is what he had been waiting for, this peacefulness. Contentment.
"Okay, I can't wait any longer," Will suddenly says, "Everly said you guys decided on a name, but as I have learned this week, my favourite niece cannot be bribed."
Everly rolls her eyes, "I'm your only niece, Uncle Will."
Will grins wider at the title. Erin looks at Jay, silently telling him to take the lead. Jay smiles up at his brother, "His first name we thought was fitting for the situation."
"It means brave, courageous, warrior." Erin explains.
"I like it." Will nods, "little guy's pretty damn strong."
"We wanted to give him a name that represented all he's overcome, and the people that have, and will continue to help him throughout his life. More specifically, the same person that has been there for me for so much in my life." Jay says nervously, Erin turning the baby in her arms so he's facing his uncle, "So, big brother, I'd like you to formally meet your nephew; Andrew William Halstead."
Will looks wide-eyed between Jay, Erin and Everly - the little girl bouncing on the balls of her feet waiting for her uncle's reaction, "I helped pick it." She says excitedly.
"William?" He repeats, awe-struck.
Erin smiles tearfully, "We wanted his name to reflect the people in his life that fought for himfrom day one, and we figured who better to name him after than his godfather?"
"Godfather?" Will questions again.
"If you're up for it." Jay jokes, nudging his brother's shoulder.
Erin watches as Will pulls Jay into a hug, whispering something in his ear that Erin can't hear - whatever it is has Jay misty-eyed when he turns to her. Will stands before Erin, crouching down and looking at Andrew, "Kid, you don't know how lucky you just got - I'm totally gonna kick ass at this."
Jay and Evie both chuckle softly, Erin shaking her head at her future brother-in-law as he leans in to kiss the baby's head, "You are, Will; but if my kid's first word is 'ass', just know I'll be coming for you."
Erin's words have Everly bursting into laughter, Jay laughing alongside her, and Will looking admonished though Erin can see the glint in his eye and the cheeky smirk that reappears too quickly on his face, "Don't worry, I got much better words I can teach him first."
"Is it too late to change his name?" Erin groans.
Everly laughs harder, Will scooping her up and thanking her for including him in such an important decision for her baby brother. While the two of them talk, Will educating Everly on the importance of being a big brother, Jay focuses his attention on Erin. He watches her, watching the baby; she has a smile on her face, a real smile, one Jay can't remember seeing recently. Things have been so crazy in their lives as of late, so much has happened in their family but especially to Erin. But looking at her now, the content spread across her face as Andrew lays in her arms, it feels like things are finally looking up.
It's been a rough patch as of late, but they're finally starting to make their way through.
Erin and Andrew are discharged two days later - a relief to Erin, who was dreading the possibility of having to leave her son in the hospital while she went home, or vice versa. Jay was happy to have his family back home, and both parents could see how much more at ease Everly was now that Erin and Andrew were out of hospital.
They'd been home for two weeks now, and Erin was still trying to find her groove in this new stage of motherhood. Erin expected it to be difficult, but it seemed harder than she had ever thought possible.
Magic. That's what this period was supposed to be - this magical time with this little life that you created. It was anything but.
She was exhausted. Andrew barely slept more than an hour at a time. Erin was up every few hours to feed him, and even when Jay would insist on getting up to settle the crying baby, Erin would still lie awake in their bed until Andrew finally went back down. She wasn't programmed to sleep through it when it wasn't 'her turn', and the lack of sleep was wreaking havoc on her already tired body.
As she looks around the living room, Erin can't help but feel defeated. Baskets of clean clothes are on the couch, a mixture of baby toys and Everly's workbooks scatter the coffee table, and a never-ending pile of dirty onesies, burping cloths and blankets are in a corner on the floor in the hallway near their laundry room. Jay had run out to the store because they were almost out of diapers, Andrew was asleep in his crib and Erin was supposed to be resting, but she couldn't; the mere thought of the mess awaiting her downstairs had her on edge. She wanted to organise all this clutter, to bring some sort of peace to the chaos; her life felt out of order, but this was something she could manage, no matter how small it may be; it was something she could control. But when she bent down to pick up one of the baskets from the couch so she could put it on the floor in front of her, her abdomen stung, the incision site burning in protest. Erin gasped, clutching her stomach and letting the basket fall off the couch, the clothes tipping onto the floor in the process.
She wanted to scream. To kick and throw everything within reach until she felt some kind of relief, but she knew it wouldn't make her feel better; she was too weak to do it anyways. And that feeling was the worst - the weakness. She hated that feeling more than anything else in her life. She hadn't been weak in many years - not since she was a teenager living with her drugged-up mother and abusive boyfriend. Erin had worked hard to keep herself impenetrable. She didn't get knocked down because she never let anyone get close enough to her to try. Not until she had met Jay - he had been the one to show her real love, to prove to her that her weaknesses could be strengths. But Erin was having a hard time believing that now. She was struggling to feel like anything other than a complete and utter failure.
And then Andrew started to cry, and it took everything in her not to do the same. Erin made her way upstairs, her baby's screams only growing louder with each slow step she took. "I'm coming." She said softly, hoping he would somehow hear her. If he did he ignored it, his cries growing higher in pitch. By the time Erin made it to the room, her son's face was red and angry from how hard his little lungs were working to get her attention.
"Shhh, it's okay buddy. Mama's here." Erin says, resting her hand on his belly. Her touch helps for only a moment, Andrew continues to cry and Erin knows what he needs; her aching breasts are indication enough.
Erin puts her hands under Andrew's head and bottom, taking a few deep breaths before trying to lift him out of the crib. Her body protests, her scar stinging as she leans over the crib. She tries again, but her hand starts to slip from under the baby's head and Erin pulls away and lets him stay safely in the crib. She would never forgive herself if he got hurt because of her; they would just have to wait until Jay got home to help her get the baby out of the crib. Erin yells, a low, quick grunt of frustration, but one that seems to upset the baby further; Andrew can feel her upset and she's not really doing much to hide it from him.
It wasn't supposed to be like this. Erin had spent the better half of her pregnancy reading every book she could to prepare herself for pregnancy and motherhood. The books had all told her that a c-section wouldn't affect her ability to hold her baby, to care for herself, to perform basic everyday tasks; she wasn't supposed to watch her baby scream for her, to watch him while her chest aches, her body knowing what it needs to do yet being too weak to help her do it. She'd been prepared for a c-section surgery if it came to that, but she hadn't been prepared for the traumatic ways in which the journey of childbirth could take a turn. She had no idea any of this would happen to them.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Erin mumbles. Her hand rests on his stomach, rubbing in gentle circles in the hopes it will soothe him a little, "I know you're hungry, but I-I can't. I can't-" the tears fell then, and Erin rests her head against the crib as she cries along with her son.
Times like this, Erin can't help but think of her mother. Did she also leave her and Teddy in a crib, hungry and crying; did she care at all? Erin found herself comparing her parenting style to her mother's a lot lately - Did she feed her children enough compared to Bunny, did Bunny try to breastfeed them or was it a family trait to struggle with such maternal routines? Was she a bad mother for not being the one to get up and look after her baby every time he cried - would Bunny have gotten up every time, would she have let Erin or Teddy cry it out?
She wanted to believe that she wasn't her mother, that she could be better than her; that she could forge her own path rather than follow in the footsteps of the woman who brought her into this world. But she and Bunny had always been similar, in ways that Erin didn't like to acknowledge; she had always been her mother's daughter. But she didn't want to be Bunny when it came to this - she didn't want to be anything like the type of mother that Bunny was. But her head was a mess, she couldn't stop comparing every action she took to the ones that Bunny might've taken; trying to pinpoint exactly where her mother went wrong with she and Teddy, trying to avoid the urge to numb the pain and quiet the voices in her head that kept telling her she was a failure - that she wasn't becoming her mother, that she was becoming someone much worse; and that was what she deserved.
Erin fought the urge to cry. To grab her purse, call it quits and run out the door. She wanted to escape it all. She wanted so badly for everything to stop hurting - to stop being so hard. She wanted to experience the magic of motherhood, but all she seemed to be feeling was the hardships.
As she looked down at her wailing baby, vision blurring as the tears finally fell, she closed her eyes and rested her head against the crib railing, the sound of Andrew's crying drowning out everything else.
"It wasn't supposed to be like this."
December 2019
Erin winced as Andrew latched to her breast. She tried to gently move his body in different positions, hoping it would alleviate some of the pain she was feeling; but no matter what she tried, the pain she felt when feeding her son didn't cease.
Andrew was almost four weeks old. They'd been home for three weeks now and Jay was due to return to work in two days. Things had become a little easier in some ways - Erin was healing, her body was growing strong day by day and she was finally able to lift her son out of his crib without Jay's help, which made night feeds easier for the three of them. But it felt like every time Erin took a step forward, something would inevitably knock her two steps back. She'd healed enough that she was capable of caring for the baby on her own, but it came at the cost of not seeing her daughter much; Erin was so exhausted these days that she had barely gotten to spend time with Everly, not that her daughter ever complained; she was okay with hanging out with Andrew and Erin when she came home from school, but Erin wanted to give her the one-on-one time they had before Andrew was born as well. She felt like she was failing her daughter lately.
And now she was feeling like her body was starting to fail her son. Erin had been in pain for the last four days, every time she tried to feed Andrew, and her milk supply was feeling less. But she was stubborn, and she desperately wanted to give her child all the things that mothers were supposed to provide their children with; she wanted to be nothing like her own mother. She was adamant about breastfeeding. To be able to nourish her child in this way, to experience this magical bond with Andrew that all the books and mommy blogs spoke about. But she didn't feel that magic, she didn't feel anything close to it. Ever since she started breastfeeding, it had felt uncomfortable. Like she was doing something wrong, or that she wasn't doing enough. Andrew seemed fine, but Erin was struggling; they weren't connecting in the way she thought they would be. None of this was going how she had imagined it would.
"Everything looks okay. He's latched correctly." Natalie says, placing the thin blanket back over Erin's chest.
"Something's not right, Natalie." Erin sighs, her face scrunching at the discomfort, "I-I'm in so much pain suddenly, and my milk isn't as much. I don't know what I'm doing wrong."
"You're not doing anything wrong." Natalie promises.
"I must be!" Erin cries, "There's no other explanation, I'm screwing this up."
"You're not screwing anything up, Erin. These things happen sometimes. Look, it's been a really overwhelming time for you." Natalie says, "Have you been speaking to anyone?"
"… like a therapist?" Erin asks.
"Like a therapist, yes, or a friend. Anyone that you can talk to about what you're feeling, really." Natalie says, "Things like this, sometimes they can be a mental block, more than a physical problem."
"So, what, you think I'm psychologically punishing myself or something?"
Natalie shakes her head, moving her chair closer to Erin, "I think that you're under a lot of stress, and you're dealing with a lot of changes in your life, all at once. It's perfectly normal to be struggling right now, to need help." Natalie sighs, "You had a traumatic birth, you weren't able to see your child for a week after he was born, you had a rough time most of your pregnancy, and your mother-"
"I'm fine, Natalie." Erin insists, "that's not what this is about."
Natalie nods, not wanting to push too hard, "Alright. Just think about what I said, okay? Talking to someone, about anything that's on your mind, it might help to alleviate the pain you're feeling. We all need someone to lean on once in a while. It's okay to ask for help, Erin."
Erin doesn't say anything, nodding in reply and Natalie leaves it at that. She says a quick goodbye, urging Erin to call if she needs anything, and then it's just Erin and the baby in the nursery; quiet except for the occasional squeak of the rocking chair. Erin stares ahead at nothing, reflecting on Natalie's words. She reaches over and picks up her phone from the table by the window, doing her best not to jostle the baby too much and cause herself more pain. She opens her call log, not needing to look too far down the list to find Teddy's number. She holds the phone to her ear, hearing it ring endlessly before his voicemail message plays. Sighing, Erin hangs up and tosses the phone at her feet. Teddy hasn't answered any of her calls in the last three weeks. Jay wouldn't tell her what happened, just that Teddy needed some space and that he didn't think she should try to get in touch with him unless it was what Teddy wanted. She knew there was more to the story, but Jay insisted that Teddy was just grieving and needed to be left alone. 'He's focusing on himself, Erin. You should do the same.'
Erin had hoped that once he had gotten back to New York, and the heightened emotions they were both feeling after Bunny's death had started to dwindle, that maybe Teddy would be more willing to talk with her. But it seemed that by distancing himself from Chicago, he was also distancing himself from Erin, and the thought of never seeing or speaking to her brother again broke her heart. He was the last piece of herself that she had left; the last bit of their family that hadn't been completely destroyed. It hurt to lose her brother. Erin was growing tired of losing the people she loved.
She looked down at her son when she felt another dull pain, her eyes connecting with his for a brief moment, silently begging to feel that bond; that spark of magic that she'd heard so much about, but there was nothing; only emptiness. She was growing pretty tired of not having control of anything in her life anymore.
2023 (four months after)
Erin sat on the front porch, the throw blanket from the living room couch draped around her legs as she sipped from the bottle of beer dripping water onto the arm of the swing as it warmed under her tight grip. She stared out at the street, thinking about how she had been sitting on the front porch steps four months earlier wondering if she had reached the end of her marriage. Now, she was sitting and contemplating how to tell her husband something she was dreading confessing to him - it had been a week since their therapy session, two days since she visited him at work and made the decision to tell Jay everything, sooner rather than later; but she was still nervous to do so. She'd carried the guilt of bunny's death on her shoulders for the last three years. She'd never told anyone about what had gone through her head that night after she got the call - she thought herself a terrible person for the way she reacted. And Erin knew that when she told Jay, he would do everything he could to reassure her that her guilt was not necessary. She wasn't scared that he would judge her, she was scared that he might be angry with her for not telling him sooner; for letting him carry responsibility for the way Erin had been the last few weeks of her pregnancy, and especially for the night of Andrew's birth.
It took her a long time to accept that she hadn't been okay after Andrew's birth. Truthfully, she hadn't been okay for the weeks leading up to his birth either. But following Andrew's birth, there had been a wave of darkness that seemed to hit her out of nowhere. It had been a slow and steady build-up, crashing over her in little instances until she felt like she no longer knew who she was. Erin had never felt so lost in her life, so out of place despite being exactly where she wanted to be. She had wanted the life she and Jay had been building together more than anything in the world, but when she'd finally got it she felt like it wasn't her life anymore. She felt like an outsider, and she had believed that was her punishment; so she had pushed the man she loves away and did her best to keep from falling apart around her children. It hadn't been healthy at all, but somehow she had survived, and it was time to live a more healthy way of life, and to share her truth with Jay; even if it hurt him in the moment, she knew he deserved to know. If they were going to move forward, to keep building their lives together, he had to know all the parts of their past that he hadn't been privy to.
She spots his car as it comes down the street and turns into their driveway. Erin waves before he's out of the car, Jay taking his time as he grabs a few files and his gym bag. The smile on his face widens further when he walks up the stairs to her and Erin feels her heart flutter in her chest at the genuine happiness on his face when he sees her.
"Hey," he says, dropping his stuff down just inside the door and walking back to the swing to sit down beside her, kissing her cheek and draping his arm over her shoulders, "What are you doing out here so late? It's freezing."
His hand rubs up and down her arm as if he's trying to warm her up, Erin relishes the moment and his tenderness with her. She leans her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes for a moment and letting her body relax.
"I like it out here," Erin says, "there's a stillness I feel here, helps me figure out what's going on in my head."
She feels Jay's hand on her arm slow its movement, "Is everything okay?"
Erin sighs, sitting back up and turning to face him. Her hands fiddle in her lap and she takes a deep breath as she takes his hands in hers and holds them in her lap. She looks up at him, worry painting his sharp features.
"I want to talk to you about Bunny. About everything that happened back then, and I need you to just sit quietly and let me say everything I have to say because otherwise I'll lose my nerve, and I can't lose my nerve; I need to tell you and I just need you to listen, okay?"
They'd been discussing this with Sara over the last few weeks, to purge or problem-solve. Erin and Jay were, by nature, both people who wanted to protect the people they loved from anything that could possibly hurt them. They were inherently problem-solvers, and sometimes that meant that, instead of truly listening to what the other person was saying and giving them a safe space to hold their feelings, they were often only hearing what was being said as something that they could fix for the other person. "There's nothing wrong with that," Sarah had assured them, "But sometimes, when we only think in a problem-solving mindset, we overlook the other person's feelings. Sometimes we just need to express our feelings, to be heard and understood. It's important that you both try to express to the other when you just want to be heard."
This was what Erin was doing now - she didn't need Jay to fix a problem for her. She needed to tell him what she was feeling, and for him to allow her the space to do so. That was doable, Jay thought. He could give Erin what she was asking of him.
"Of course." Jay says.
Erin gives him a small smile, one that Jay knows is her way of thanking him. She's quiet for a few moments, Jay squeezing her hand to let her know he's still here; he's waiting and ready whenever she is. It's not that she doesn't know what she wants to say - the words have been floating around in her head for years now - but actually admitting it out loud is hard. Getting the words to escape from her head is more of a struggle than she expected it to be. Erin thought the hardest part would just be telling Jay she needed to talk, that she wanted to have this conversation; for some reason, she figured once she got here the words would fly right out of her without hesitation.
"You said you wanted to talk about what happened, right?" Jay offers cautiously, "Do you want to start there? Or … do you maybe want to tell me why this feels so hard for you?"
"I'm scared you're going to be upset with me." Erin admits, "I-I know all the guilt you've been carrying about Bunny's death and Andrew's birth and … and it wasn't yours to bear. It wasn't your fault. I was never angry with you, I-" She pauses, taking another breath before saying, "I was angry with myself."
Jay's starting to regret agreeing to 'just listen' as quickly as he did. He has to fight the urge to ask why? To immediately take her in his arms and assure her that she did nothing wrong - because, deep down, he already knows part of what she's about to say. He knows her well enough to see that she's going to put this all on herself. This conversation is going to be difficult for them to get through.
"That night, when I got the call from the Warden, I was dreading it." Erin says, "I didn't want to talk to her, I just wanted to focus on us and our family; you were right, she but I knew it was the only way she would back off. I knew I wouldn't be able to focus wholly on our family if I was always worried that she would be lurking around some corner about to take it all from me."
"Okay." Jay says, wanting to let her know that he's still with her, still listening to her, without trying to lead the conversation where he wants it to go; he needs to give her time and space to talk it out with him, to express everything she needs to.
"When I spoke to the Warden, I'll never forget those words." Erin says, the gravelly voice of Warden Jameson informing her of her mother's death.
'There was an incident earlier this evening in the cafeteria. A fight broke out, Bunny Fletcher was involved and was stabbed sometime during the altercation. I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but she did not survive her injuries. She died in the infirmary.'
"I remember them so clearly, like it was the first time all over again. But it's not because of how painful those words are, it's because … because when he said them, I-I felt relieved."
Jay watched as Erin's shoulders dropped, her entire body relaxing with those three words. I felt relieved. He could see it on her face, the nervousness as she looked up at him, gauging his reaction. This was the truth she hadn't been able to speak when Sara had asked her about it. This was the darkness she was scared of letting him see.
"I felt relieved, and then I felt guilty, because what kind of person could feel something so terrible about their own mother? What kind of person does that make me, that the first thing I thought of upon learning about my mother's death, was that my life would be better now that there was no potential for her to ever be in it?" She took a breath.
He wanted to speak, but he knew he shouldn't. She was speaking in hypotheticals - not really seeking an answer, only expressing how she felt - but he was ready with an answer anyways. He had so much to say about what she felt then, and what she was feeling now; but he knew this wasn't a problem to solve. He couldn't just tell Erin what to feel, so instead he focused on the present; on what he could do to make sure she felt understood.
"Why were you scared to tell me that?" Jay asks softly, "I would never judge you for that. I know, better than anyone, how complicated your relationship with Bunny was."
"Because you've spent the last four years blaming yourself, thinking that I blamed you for Bunny's death, and I let you. It was easier to let you feel responsible, it gave me an excuse to push you away." Erin said.
"Why did you want to push me away? All I wanted was to be there for you, Er. I just wanted to help."
"You couldn't help me, Jay." Erin sniffled, "I felt so guilty, I couldn't stop judging myself with everything I did with the kids, especially in those early days with Andrew; I was struggling so much and I couldn't help but wonder if it was because of her. I couldn't stop thinking that, if I could feel that way about my own mother, what kind of mother was that going to make me? I mean, the apple doesn't fall far from-"
"No." Jay snapped, "No, I'm sorry, no. I know you wanted me to sit and listen but- no. You are nothing like her, Erin. Everything that you have ever done for our children is proof of how unlike your mother you are."
"And for the most part, I know that. Really, I do, Jay. But sometimes … I find myself comparing what I do to what Bunny might've done. Especially in those early days. I was so scared of screwing up, I could feel myself turning into her, and it took me a long time to recognise that it was my mind playing tricks on me. That my head wasn't in the right space, but that doubt is still there, I don't know that it will ever go away. I'm always going to be scared that I'll turn into my mother, and I pushed you away at the start because I thought, at least if I did, then you would be okay; you could take the kids and go and you'd all be safe from me. I was drowning - in grief and anger and guilt. And I thought I deserved to drown, and I didn't want to take you all with me."
"All these years …" Jay whispered, "I never knew. I didn't see how much you were going through."
Erin's hands went to his arms, bracing him, "It's not your fault, Jay. I was hiding so much."
"But why?" Jay asks, "I understand not telling me what you were feeling about Bunny, but the rest of it? Erin, we're supposed to be partners. If you were struggling, I should've been the first person you asked for help."
"For me, everything was all connected." Erin sniffles, "Telling you I was struggling with Andrew meant having to tell you about Bunny. Telling you that I was losing my sense of self, that I didn't know who I was; it was all linked back to my relationship with her, and I just wanted to forget it all; I wanted to pretend that Bunny didn't have this hold on me anymore, that I wasn't such a screwed up person or a bad mother. I didn't want to tell you because … I didn't ever want you to look at me the way that you looked at Bunny."
"I would never do that, because you are not your mother." Jay says, his cadence firm and unrelenting. He needed her to know this, to believe him when he said those words; he understands that he can't fix everything for her, that he can't stitch up all the open wounds of her past; but this is one thing he has to fix, one thing he doesn't want her to ever question again.
Erin simply nods and when Jay sees the tears well in her eyes, he pulls her closer; Erin's head rests on his shoulder, her tears silently falling onto his neck as Jay wraps his arms around his wife and holds her as tight to him as he can. Jay sits silently for a while, Erin's sniffles mixing with the howl of the wind as they sway gently in the porch swing. His heart breaks for his wife, for the burden she's carried for so long, for the pain that she's inflicted on herself because she was too ashamed to tell him what she was feeling; but he also feels relieved, that she has finally let him in, that he can bolster her in this moment and that she's allowed him to see all of her, and let him help her through it; it was difficult for them both, but it was progress.
"Thank you," Jay says eventually, "For telling me that. For letting me be here for you."
"Thank you for making me feel safe, to tell you." Erin mumbles, pressing a kiss against his chin.
Jay in turn presses a kiss into her hair and smiles, "Always."
Two days later, Jay and Erin are sitting in Sara's office once again as they relay the conversation they had this week to their therapist. They sit side-by-side on the couch, Jay's hand resting on Erin's thigh. The close and comfortable position puts a little smile on the doctor's face; it's always reassuring to see the physical manifestation of Jay and Erin's emotional healing.
"It's good to see you two are using the tools we've been discussing in our sessions. Erin, you did a good job with explaining to Jay what you needed and making sure he had enough time before our session to sit with all the information you gave him. And in turn you, Jay, listened and let Erin take the lead, and you provided a safe space for her to hold her feelings."
"Well, I butted in a few times…" Jay says
Sara shakes her head, "It's still progress. You two are still learning how to communicate in a way that works for you, and that will take time to establish and rebuild. but you did your best to listen to what your partner needed from you at that moment. you gave erin the chance to come to you, to ask for your help, instead of assuming she needed it. erin, am I right in saying that?"
erin nods and takes Jay's hand in hers, "definitely." She gives him a small smile.
Sara smiles at the two of them, making a few notes in her book. She's happy with the progress Jay and Erin seem to be making - they were one of her 'sure' couples. A couple whose future she felt more confidently in knowing, and even in their first sessions, Sara had always had a feeling that Jay and Erin would end up reconciling; she had always believed that they were a couple who simply needed the tools to communicate with one another, and to have a space like this to safely express their feelings and talk about their past; days like this, knowing that her instincts are being proven right, are some of the best days in her career. Especially with couples like Jay and Erin. They still had a lot of work to do, but Sara felt confident that she could help them get through it. And speaking of, she focused back on the note she'd made last session, looking back at Jay as she asks,
"So, Erin's done her part of what I asked from you both last session. Jay, do you think you're ready to do yours?"
Jay nods, sitting up on the couch a bit more, "I've been thinking about it the last few days, especially after we spoke," he glanced at Erin, "there were so many reasons I came up with for why I felt so strongly about keeping your mother out of our lives. And I've always told myself that it was to protect you, but … I'm starting to realise that maybe … I was more so doing it to protect myself." Jay sighs, "because every time that I've ever come close to losing you has been at her hands."
Erin sat with that for a moment, thinking of how many times Jay had tried to help her through something, and how many times she had deflected and run to her mother instead. It had been her coping mechanism for so long, to protect the people she loved by going to the one person she knew would allow her to drown in her darkness; bunny was always good for wallowing in self-doubt and worthlessness; after all, she had been the one who embedded those feelings in Erin her whole life.
"I can see why you'd feel that way." Erin says eventually, "Even after she died, she was still having that affect on our lives."
Jay flashes back to the night of Andrew's birth, swallowing hard and nodding, "I can't help but think that, maybe if I'd been more supportive, things wouldn't have turned out the way they have. Maybe we wouldn't have … strayed so far from each other."
Erin sighs, "That's not true. This isn't your fault, Jay. I've told you so many times, what happened with Peter wasn't because of you. At least not at the beginning."
"Then what was it?" Jay whispers, his voice so cautious, almost broken.
Erin shakes her head, struggling to find the words, "He was … an escape, I suppose."
"In what way?" Sara asks.
Jay watches the way Erin's face changes. The small, sad, reminiscent smile that graces her features; he is unsure of how to feel about that. Whether the way she looks back on their past is a good or bad thing. Whether the twisting feeling in his stomach is justified.
"He made me feel like myself again." Erin says simply, "the person I was before everything changed. He made me feel like I could be myself again. But it was an illusion, that person … I can't ever be her again."
"Why not?" Sara presses.
"Because I'm not the same person I was at 28 years old. Hell, I'm not the same person I was even a year ago. I've changed, being a mother and being a wife, it changed me; every decision I made from the moment I took on those roles in my life, they aren't just decisions I made for myself; they were choices I made for my family. I can't be a version of my past self ever again, because the person I was in the past wasn't a mother. A wife. She didn't know what it is like to love these people so deeply that it feels like they're walking around with a part of your heart in theirs. The person I was, she was fearless and arrogant and didn't give a damn about consequences, because she didn't have anyone to care about; she didn't care what happened to her because she was alone. And it took meeting Peter, to feel like who I used to be when I was with him, to realise that I was chasing after a ghost; a version of myself I would never have again. A version of us," Erin says, her eyes locking with Jay, "that was no longer attainable."
"And what version is that?"
Erin smiles sadly at Jay as she answers Sara, her eyes never leaving his, "two young detectives so in love and naive that they thought sneaking around behind their boss' back would have no consequences."
Jay managed out a laugh at that. He remembers a conversation they had once in those early days, of wondering if Voight knew they were sneaking around but feeling so confident that they were hiding it so well that there was no way he could possibly know. They'd been stubborn and fearless, but it was worth the risks to be with each other.
"Two people so in love they tattooed each other's initials on their body despite everyone saying it was a bad decision, because they knew so wholeheartedly, that they were going to be together for the rest of their lives." Erin sniffles.
Jay looks down at their joined hands. His sleeves are rolled up, so he can see the little scrabble tile on his arm with her initial. He doesn't need to see Erin's to know it's there, he can picture it so clearly in his mind; he'd spent hours staring at that little spot on her arm; it used to make him so happy to see the little cursive J embedded in her skin; a reminder that they would always belong to one another.
"There's a lot of things that … It feels like we've lost over the years. And I don't know that we can get them all back - but talking to you about everything, about Bunny, it gave me hope; it reminds me that we're still working through things. And that, even if we don't get back everything we've lost, we can still build something better."
A/N: Sorry this chapter's a bit on the shorter side, but I didn't want to keep you all waiting! SOME THINGS TO COME - linstead's making some big strides in their counselling sessions, plus some more old faces will be joining next chapter! We'll be diving into the peter of it all very soon hehe …
If you're reading, PLEASE leave a review and let me know what you think! Reviews really do mean so much to the writers publishing these stories, especially in our fandom where linstead stories are far and few between these days - a review, no matter how long or short, really does help to keep us all motivated!
Until next time :)