Chapter Fourteen | Breathe


For the first time in years, Imogen woke up without a weight on her chest. Jay's dark grey sheets comforted her from below and from above, the comforter that smelled a mix of his cologne and her perfume. But against her back pressed his warm body. Jay's steady, deep breaths tickled the bare skin of her neck.

The sun had just begun to rise. As Imogen started counting Jay's breaths, she tried to stay as still as possible. Let him sleep. Even just a week sharing his bed and Imogen had seen how restless his nights often were. But as imaginings of Jay in combat played through her mind, she couldn't help but squirm.

Ever so slowly, she shifted from her side to her back. The ceiling fan rotated slowly. Imogen only last about thirty seconds as she tried to follow a single blade around in circles. It made her sick more than it helped her focus. So she turned her head to look at Jay's peaceful face and then flipped on her side again, towards the wall.

Some pain remained from the gunshot wounds. Imogen didn't know if it was psychosomatic or if something in there had been permanently damaged, but she prefered not to lie on that side.

Flashes of pain, of blood, crossed her memory. Imogen squeezed her eyes shut to push it away. But she couldn't. She couldn't.

Blood is supposed to stay inside her body. It shouldn't be seeping through her fingers. It shouldn't stain her shaking hands. She couldn't stop it. She couldn't.

She wanted to go home—

"Midge?"

Jay. The pressure on the back of her hand wasn't Detective Florez. He wasn't kneeling over her in the bar, screaming orders for an ambulance over his radio as he tried to stop the bleeding. So much blood. Too much. It should be inside the body. Inside her body.

"Imogen. Hey. Hey, listen to me."

She stared at the wall in front of her. Ragged breaths cut through the peacefulness of the morning light in Jay's bedroom. Imogen felt Jay peeling her fingers off the scars.

"Breathe."

Breathe. She removed her hand. In its place, Jay placed his own. But instead of gripping it like her life depended on it, he just ran his thumb over the bumps, slowly, methodically. Her shaking stopped. She breathed. It had been awhile since she'd woken to that nightmare.

"I didn't mean to wake you," she said. Her voice low, Imogen took a moment before sitting up. The sheets fell from her chest and everything but the skin secured away by her bra were hit with cold. "You should try to sleep more."

"You should too."

Imogen turned around. He hadn't sat up. She could see in the way his eyes slightly glassed over and his still methodical breathing that sleepiness had a hold on him. God, he was gorgeous. With the morning sun hitting him, he practically glowed. She smiled.

"Go back to sleep," he said.

It sounded almost like an order. He couldn't order her. They held the same rank. Technically, she'd been promoted before him. A before H. Imogen huffed, but laid back down with a small smile.

Chills shot down her spine as she felt Jay running his hands over her side and back. With each kiss he planted around the scars, her smile grew. She turned to face him.

He had a stupid smirk on his face as he settled back against his pillow. Imogen didn't say anything. She just felt the sun warming her skin despite the breeze in the room and smiled at him.

She leaned down, pressing her body into his chest as she kissed him deeply against the pillow. She had a duty to wipe that smirk off his face. Running her fingers through his hair, she tried not to moan against his lips as he ran his hands over her waist, over the scars.

Imogen broke the kiss. Her turn to smirk. It felt good, to see Jay lose his breath over her. God, why did they wait so long?

Jay looked at her as she paused. It must've felt too long, because his smile dropped even as he fought to catch his breath. "Do you regret this?"

Imogen rarely saw Jay hesitate. They worked on instinct. She sat up a little straighter. Placing her palm over his chest, she shook her head.

"I regret nothing," she assured him. With a small smile she leaned closer to him. "Except that we waited this long."

Jay smirked. He sat up, meaning her half way and pulled her closer. His hand caressed the back of head, playing with her hair. Then he pulled back a few inches. "Honestly," he said between kisses. "Eighteen year olds are so stupid."

"God damn, Jay." She tried to catch her breath. "Wish we could go back and tell ourselves to just get on with it." She smiled when he laughed breathlessly, still pressed up against her.

He started grabbing at the clasps of her bra. Imogen almost couldn't breathe. She let herself fall against his shoulder, resting her head on his neck.

Jay's phone rang. They both paused, Jay's fingers on her just unclasped bra and Imogen nuzzled against his bare neck. Neither moved as it continued.

"Jay."

He let out a long breath, but let go of her bra. He grumbled to himself. Falling back against the pillow as he reached for the phone on his bedside table, she could hear him cursing under his breath.

"Oh for fuck's sake," he muttered.

Imogen worked her bra back on. "Don't tell me Voight wants us to go in on our day off?" She needed a shower before doing anything.

It kept ringing. "No, it's Will."

He held it above his head, staring at the ringing phone in frustration. Imogen stood up from the bed. The phone kept ringing, and Jay kept staring at it as if glaring through the screen would punish Will for the interruption.

"Not gonna answer it?" she said.

Jay looked at her and then back to the phone. Before he could answer it, though, the call cut off. Imogen laughed.

"Please don't kill him," she said.

Imogen grabbed a change of clothes from her drawers, and Jay continued to lay in bed with his arms up over his forehead. As she headed towards the washroom, though, her own phone buzzed.

It was from Will. Must be serious. She unlocked her phone and pulled it up.

"Hey, tell Jay to call me."

"Please and thank you."

She snorted, typing back with just a gif of Band of Brother's Dick Winters saluting. Jay had sat up in bed and started pulling clothes out as well.

"Hey, call your brother."

He nodded and settled back on the bed shirtless. As he dialed his brother, Imogen ducked into the washroom to shower.

By the time she rejoined Jay, he'd dressed and gone out into the living room. Imogen pulled on jeans and a decent shirt. Hopefully nothing bad had happened to Will. If it had, she figured Jay would have interrupted her shower.

"So, what did Will want?"

Jay turned towards her, sipping a coffee. "Want to have lunch with him and Nat? They've got the day off apparently."

That was a new name. "Nat?"

Jay paused. After a moment he pulled the coffee mug away from his mouth and put it down. "Oh. Yeah, you haven't met her. She's Will's fiancée."

Fiancée? Imogen paused for a moment and then nodded a couple of times. "Nobody thought to mention he's engaged?"

Passing her a newly poured cup of coffee, he shrugged. "Will finally got his act together. I've actually been tasked as Best Man."

Imogen grinned. "Got plans for a party yet?"

"Many," he said. Jay finished up his coffee and put the cup in the dishwasher. "Unfortunately, my brother's insisting on a joint bachelor-bachelorette party."

"Seriously?"

"Yep."

He rounded the counter and rolled his eyes with that silly smirk on his face. "Yeah. Lame."

"You know what else is lame? Running errands," she said. "But we need to do it. You're really low on groceries, Jay."

"You know what else we need?"

"What?"

He grabbed his keys. "You to get a car. Come on. Groceries, but first we have an even worse errand to run. Will needs me to drop something off at my dad's."

"Why can't he?"

"Something about babysitting Owen." After a moment he turned back around. "Natalie's son."

Imogen just nodded before following him out. The irritation radiating off Jay in waves came as no surprise. She'd never really liked Mr. Halstead. He'd been dismissive and loud, especially after Mrs. Halstead had passed away. By then, though, she'd been out of the neighborhood and far away.

As she settled into the truck's passenger side. Jay turned on the radio. They didn't say much on the way to Will's apartment. She could see the unease in the way he flexed his fingers as he gripped the wheel, or checked the mirrors even more often than usual.

Then she paused.

"What are we going to tell your dad?"

He glanced over briefly. "About what?"

"About me," she said. "Being back."

Being alive, more like. But he just shrugged and focused on the road. "It's my dad. Think he's gonna actually care?"

Imogen didn't respond. She knew the answer. In some strange way, though, she didn't wonder if Mr. Halstead's inevitable apathy wouldn't be better than the looks of shock and betrayal she'd gotten from others.

"And what about us?" Jay said.

Imogen looked over at him, driving with one hand in the wheel and the other nonchalantly draped over the center console. The edges of her mouth crept up into a smile as she watched him. But then she took a deep breath.

"Other than Will, let's keep it between us," she said.

Imogen had seen the rumor mills at work in the Chicago police department on more than one occasion. Gossip traveled faster than the speed of light over coffee and donuts and patrol work. Even worse in specialized units like Organized Crime, or Intelligence.

Jay nodded. He patted the center console, carefully maneuvering into a space on the street a block from Will's place. As he turned the car off, he turned to her.

"Will would figure this out anyways," Jay said. He smirked, unbuckling. "He's been nagging me about this since you showed back up."

As he got out of the car, Imogen just chuckled. Of course he had. Will was too smart. Not a detective, but damn, if he could train himself to work under life or death situations, that boy would make a good operative.

Imogen laughed at the thought and joined Jay outside. Will Halstead, crime fighter. What an image.