Chapter Four | Without Lies or Secrets
For the first time in days, Imogen didn't come to consciousness from shouts or nightmares. The world was still dark. Only the light from the flatscreen TV illuminated Jay's living room. And though her body ached from head to toe, it was Jay's hand on her arm that woke her.
"Hey. What are you doing on the couch?" He kept his voice low, crouched next to the couch, brow furrowed. Jay didn't move his hand from her arm. "I said you could take the bed."
Imogen tried to sit up but released an involuntary groan. Every muscle seized at the smallest of movements and she mentally kicked herself for falling asleep in front of the TV. "What time is it?"
"Four AM."
Imogen groaned.
He stood up, taking the two ice packs that had long since lost their chill. While he retreated to the kitchen, Imogen focused on her breathing. The pain made it hard to take deep breaths.
By the time he came back, Imogen had started to get out the supplies to change the dressing on her arm and leg. Both wounds had started weeping, likely from the physical activity that it had taken to get to Molly's. She grimaced at the blood.
"Better keep those clean," Jay said. He moved back over, taking a seat on his coffee table between her and the TV. "You know I hate hospitals, so you'd have to convince Will to treat you without me."
Imogen couldn't help but grin through the pain. If her body didn't ache so much, she'd have smacked the smirk off his face. But it did. So while he rewrapped her arm, she just let out a long, tired breath. She focused on the ice packs Jay had brought back in to replace the old ones.
Homemade ice packs always worked better than the fancy store bought ones. Ziploc bag, a couple cups of ice, more salt than anyone could justify, and a bit of water wrapped with a single layer of paper towels had been her mainstay since she and Jay had first gotten into law enforcement. The salt melted the ice at a lower temperature, allowing it to cover more skin surface area and stay colder. Good to see he hadn't forgotten that.
"I didn't mean to fall asleep on this thing," she said. "Just sat down to watch some hockey and drifted off."
"Sounds about right."
"In some miraculous turn of events, the Canucks beat the Kings."
Jay just let out a snort and stood. He shook his head. Grabbing the grocery bag Imogen had stuffed with the old gauze, he tied it up and dropped it in the trash. "Excuse me if I don't jump for joy."
Imogen sat back into the couch cushions, continuing to hold the bag of freezing water and ice up against her bruised ribs. A minute later Jay joined her. He grabbed the remote off the side of the couch next to her and unmuted the NHL Network. He lowered the volume of the Capitals-Penguins replay.
"Been to any Hawks games recently?" Imogen asked.
Jay shook his head. "Nah, haven't had time. I went once last year with one of the doctors at Med after Will stood me up."
"He didn't!"
"I swear. I couldn't believe it either," Jay said. He looked over at her. "His loss."
"Traitor."
"I know!" After a moment, he broke into a grin. Jay shook his head. "Remember that crazy second round game from 2010?"
Imogen couldn't help but smile too. She adjusted the ice pack. "How could I forget! 4-2 win over the Canucks? Jameson spilled a beer all over her partner. What was his name?"
"Rierdan? Kyle I think."
"Right! Rierden."
"See. You wouldn't have stood me up."
"And missed a Hawks game?" Imogen scoffed. "Never."
Silence fell between them. Only the quiet but animated play by play announcers from the hockey game filled the space between them. As she sat there, letting the ice numb her body slowly but surely, Imogen could all but feel her smile disappearing. She'd missed this. The banter. Sharing the same space with someone without lies or secrets.
"Where were you for the past five years, Imogen?"
The humor had gone from Jay's voice. He didn't sound angry, just tired. Imogen imagined he felt tired too. As anxiety crept up her body she sat up straighter.
After a moment, she decided to come clean. "I spent almost four years after the district faked my death working a couple of high profile undercover cases for the FBI." Imogen sighed, running a hand through her hair, feeling every bump, bruise, and raised suture. "I can't go into detail. But eventually they told me about a case here in Chicago, partnering with CPD. I've missed this city, Jay. Every day. So I took it."
Jay frowned. He also sat up more, hunching a bit as he put his arms on his knees. "You know, Will only flew home twice after leaving Chicago. Once for our mom's funeral. And once for yours."
She looked at him. His green eyes were full of pain. He'd learned years ago how to hide his emotions when he needed to from just about everyone. But she'd seen him through scraping his knees playing street hockey at eight, every insult from his dad at fifteen, and the agony following his reintegration from the military. He couldn't hide his pain from her any more than she could hide hers from him.
"I'm sorry," she said.
Jay nodded, turning away. The silence between them lengthened as he refused to look at her. Imogen closed her eyes.
"You know, since you got shot on assignment, you get to pick your next spot," he said a few moments later.
"Yeah I was thinking about that," she said. "Think Voight would take me on?"
Jay scoffed. He stood, moving behind the couch back towards the kitchen. "What, you kidding me? Course he would."
"Great. If we can convince that shrink at Med to clear me, that is."
"Dr. Charles?"
"Was that his name?"
Jay came back, beer in hand. But he didn't sit down. "Yeah. He's a good guy, for a shrink." He turned to the TV as the Capitals scored a goal with less than a minute to go in the period and the announcers went crazy. He picked up the remote. As the replaying game went to intermission, he turned it off. "Come on. Will would kill me if I let you stay up any later. Go use the bed, I'll take the couch."
She could think of a million ways to snap back at him for using Will as an excuse for his protectiveness, but she let it slide. What she wasn't willing to do was let him use the couch. "Jay, you've got a king sized bed. I think we can share."
"You sure?"
She let out a light laugh, circling around the back of the couch to put the Ziploc bag back in the freezer. "I'm positive. I may have been shot in the arm but I could still kill you if you tried anything."
"Yeah, no doubt."
He took another long drink of his beer. Imogen left him standing in the living room. She'd already brushed her teeth hours before so before long she had climbed into the surprisingly soft bed and tried to relax. But in the quiet darkness of Jay's room, her anxiety crashed back into her. Imogen counted the minutes before he crossed through the room to shower.
The faces of the friends she'd made over the past five years flashed across her eyelids as she tried to calm down. So many people had been involved, good people. They sold drugs, sure. But some were in it to provide for their children, or their parents, or because at least inside the gangs and crime syndicates they could look out for wayward cousins. Some had died from policemen's bullets, others from rivals. More hadn't died at all, but found themselves glaring out from behind bars. Most of them hadn't realized she'd been the one to play them.
Somehow, those hurt even more. They thought she'd stayed true to the end. But it had all been lies. Imogen's chest screamed with pain as she found it harder and harder to breathe. She forced her hands into fists. Counting backwards from a thousand helped her keep her mind on straight as she tried to listen to the water hitting smooth bath tiles as Jay showered.
A few minutes later, the water stopped. Imogen felt herself fading fast, whether from the medicine she had taken, the breathing and counting exercises to help with the anxiety, or simply because it was nearly five am she didn't know. When Jay climbed into the other side of the bed, she pretended to be asleep. It didn't take long for that to become reality
When she woke up, sunlight streamed in through Jay's slightly sheer curtains. His side of the bed had long since gone cold. Imogen wondered how long ago he'd had to go into work. She hoped he'd gotten at least a bit of sleep.
She grabbed her phone off the side table. Jay had stuck a post-it note on the dark screen. Apparently he'd been called in at nine. She checked the time. Almost noon. Imogen sat up in bed. While still in pain, it hurt less than when she'd woken up at four.
With few contacts in her phone, it didn't take long before she'd pulled up her text thread with Jay. "Send me your team's orders from Tropical Smoothie. I'll bring it by the District."
By the time she'd gotten up and changed into warmer clothes clearly brought by at some point that morning by one of Jay's colleagues, she had a list of seven smoothie orders. Apparently Voight didn't want one. As she waited for her Uber in the entrance way, Imogen began to add them to cart. But she paused.
"Does Sergeant Platt still work the desk?"
"Where else would she be?"
"Can you get me her order?"
She could practically hear Jay's groan through text as he didn't respond. Imogen just smiled. She was not above bribery if it would help get her badge back in a timely manner. When she finally got a response from him, she placed her order of eight smoothies from the backseat of an Uber, trying her hardest to ignore the growing, gnawing fear in her belly at the prospect of walking back up the front steps of the 21st District.
