I'm overwhelmed (in the best way) by your kind reviews. They absolutely make my day. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. This chapter will give you a few more clues as what went down between Jay and Hailey.
And always, thank you to onechicag-oupsteadrhekker on Tumblr.
Happy reading.
Hailey
I'm dreaming.
It is a familiar dream, too familiar, and my mind struggles to reject it before it takes hold. I'm alone in my old apartment in Chicago. The room begins to spin, and I struggle to stand. I feel disoriented and scared and I can't find my footing. I know what will happen next. I shake my head back and forth in an attempt to wake up. I need to wake up. I try to push the images aside. But I'm not strong enough.
Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.
The nightmare unfolds, and I feel that same stabbing pain, spreading from my middle to the rest of my body, making my head pound. There's no escaping. My feet stumble towards the bathroom and I slam my palm against the light switch and startle myself into a cry of agony.
Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.
The scent of iron is overwhelming. The blood. It's pungent. There is so much of it pooling at my feet. My mind rebels at the sight. I feel once again alone and afraid. I grab my cell phone but touch an empty pocket. The car. Must go back to the car. I try to make my way out of the bathroom, but the pain makes it impossible to stand upright. I feel my knees buckle beneath me. My eyes glaze over, and I hit my head on the way down.
I released a strangled cry and finally rouse myself from the dream. I sit up quickly, surprised that there is no whiplash. I'm breathing heavily and sweat is pouring down my face and neck. I wipe my forehead with the back of my hand to get rid of it, the tears too.
It takes me a full minute to realize that I am in bed and not on the bathroom floor bleeding. I fight for a moment to bring my rapid breathing under control and to rid of the images flashing in my head. I can feel more tears forming just behind my eyelids and in my throat. I can't keep reliving that night again and again. It's physically and emotionally draining.
I pull the covers over my head and close my eyes, but it's a long while before I can relax enough to fall back into a dreamless sleep.
x
The next morning, when I look at myself in the mirror, I'm shocked to see a blue-eyed zombie staring back at me. There are dark circles beneath my bloodshot eyes — the only color on an otherwise pale face, and I strain for recognition. I trace a finger across the silvery scar above my left eyebrow, feeling the stitched texture of the skin. Life has a rather sick sense of humor sometimes. I mean, did I really need a souvenir from that night?
I take a deep breath and gather my hair into a ponytail and splash water on my face. I reassure myself of where I am, and what I must do – survive another day with little to no sleep with Jay as my official partner.
At first, it seemed inconceivable for us to work together, but despite everything we're a solid match. There's no one I trust more, and we have a surprisingly easy-going, laid-back professional relationship that really works. This is not to say all is fine – not by a long shot. We are just good at compartmentalizing our personal and professional lives. The proverbial elephant in the room — we know it's there, but we try not to look at it. In Jay's defense, he tried to clear the air, but I'm just not ready to revisit the past.
Look, I know ignoring my problems will not make it vanish, but it is the best coping mechanism I can come up with right now.
We pick up a routine gun case, but the takedown goes awry, and a young girl is caught in the crossfire. Jay and I rush her to the hospital, but her condition is critical. We continue to investigate the case, and to everyone's shock, ballistics determine that the bullet that struck the little girl originated from Jay's gun. When she eventually succumbs to her injuries, everything implodes. With a community demanding justice and a police department desperate to establish credibility, Jay becomes the scapegoat.
As his partner, I try reaching out to him, but he closed himself off. And if history is any indication, the walls Jay is capable of building around himself have proven to be impenetrable – even by me.
The case drags for a few days, but Jay is ultimately cleared in everyone's eyes, except his own.
I rush to watch his press conference, but I don't make it in time. However, I catch him walking back to his car.
"Hey," I say.
"Hey," he says, his voice soft, breathier.
"Sorry, I got here as fast as I could. It's over?"
"Yeah, just ended."
"How'd it go?"
"It was good. Really good, actually. Price was very gracious." He pauses. "I'm not really sure what prompted all this, but—"
"Hey, take yes for an answer."
He nods and for a moment we just look at each other – still learning how to do this. I sigh and say, "If there's anything you need, please let me know. "
He nods. "I'll be okay eventually. I think I just gotta make sense of all of it."
"Yeah, it's tough. Trust me."
"Have you…"
"Yeah," I nod. "Different circumstances, but…" I let the sentence go unfinished. His brow frowns slightly at my vague answer, probably trying to see if I will elaborate. I'm not. There's no need to open that can of worms.
"Talk to Morgan's mother yet?" I ask.
"No. I don't think I'm ready. "
"Oh, man. You're never gonna be ready," I say. "You just have to do it."
We look silently at each other, nodding. I can see that the walls he built around himself the past couple of days are starting to show cracks. Tiny ones, to be sure, but I don't want to be the one to widen them, for fear of what might spill out. So, we say goodbye and I retreat to my car.
But as the day turns into night, my knowledge of Jay's troubled temperament has my stomach twisting like a wrung-out dishrag. I decide to go check on him despite the warning bells going off in my head. I convince myself that even if Jay and I were complete strangers, I would still want to make sure he was okay. So, I drive to his place and buzz his apartment, but get no answer. I wait a few minutes, but when I still get no answer, I sneak inside behind a resident.
The building isn't super modern, but it's clean, very similar to mine. I take the stairs up and locate his door. I stand there for a few moments, heart pounding, still unsure if I want to go through with this. But I drove all the way here, and I know I won't be able to sleep (another reason to add to the pile) if I don't at least know he is alright. I take a deep breath and knock firmly three times.
There's silence from inside.
I knock again, louder, more insistent. Again, nothing, and the little grain of anxiety inside me blossoms into a full-blown ache. I worry he might be numbing his pain elsewhere. So, I decide to wait outside his apartment door until he returns.
A few minutes later, I hear heavy footsteps climbing the stairs, one slow step at a time. I immediately know it belongs to Jay. He reaches the top and I'm only a few feet away in front of him when he notices me. He is surprised to see me, but this is overshadowed by the exhausted and despondent expression in his red-rimmed eyes.
"Hey," he says. "What are you doing here?"
I shrug. "Thought you could use the company."
"What, you checking up on me?"
"Jay—"
"Hailey," he cuts in. "You don't have to do that. That's not who I'm. Not anymore. I have no desire to be in that place ever again."
"It's just a tough thing to go through it alone," I say, sort of backpedaling. "Besides, I'm your partner. This is what partners do."
He looks at me and appears to want to disagree, but doesn't. I can see he has no more fight left in him.
Wordlessly, Jay walks up to his front door, pulls out a key, and opens it. He motions for me to head inside, and I do. Everything about his place is familiar, cozy. As expected, all his belongings are organized and neatly arranged, though it seems like he recently moved in here. With a breath tight in my chest, I slowly toe off my boots, watching him drag his feet to the kitchen.
"Beer?" he asks, tossing the words over his shoulder
"Sure," I answer. "Did you just move in?"
Jay opens the near-empty fridge, takes two beers, and pops open the caps. "No, I simply haven't had time to decorate it," he explains and hands me a bottle.
He plops down on a chair, taking a long pull from his bottle. He is tense, sitting completely upright and stiff, not moving a muscle, eyes closed as if he wants to shut the world. I let him have a moment – and perhaps give myself one too.
I busy myself perusing a bookshelf, spying on a few familiar items. Favorite books, family pictures, and several of his service awards. Then the light from the kitchen glints off an object and I recognized it immediately. My heart thrums a faster beat as I skim my finger over the tiny snow globe.
"You've kept this?" I ask, swallowing down the lump in my throat.
"Why would I throw it away?" he prompts, sipping his beer.
I shrug. "I don't know."
It's an insignificant gift I gave him for his birthday during a trip we took to Wisconsin. I thought he would have thrown it out by now. I didn't think he would keep anything that reminded him of us. I opted for no reminders, no memories, but I guess Jay doesn't share my want for oblivion.
"That was a good birthday," he adds offhandedly.
My mind and heart flood with memories of us walking hand in hand as I dragged him through countless thrift shops. A tenderness I have not felt in five years fills me. I'm starting to think coming here was a big mistake. I force myself to keep it together and change the subject, but the words get caught in my throat, stuck between my tongue and teeth.
Finally, a question tumbles out. "So, uh, did you go see Morgan's mom?"
He nods slowly. From the look in his eyes, I take it didn't go well. After a silent moment, I ask, "What did she say?"
He sighs deeply and looks at me shaking his head, without answering. Finally, he says, "She was only nine years old, Hailey. Had her whole life ahead of her..."
A lump in my throat forms – the size of a golf ball, and I can feel myself holding my breath as he continues.
"She couldn't even look at me, and I don't blame her. If it were me I wouldn't have even opened the door. I don't know what I expected would happen, but..." Jay continues muttering words that are impossible to make out. He's working himself up into a rage. He turns away then, head bowed, shoulders down, choking back tears. "I killed her child."
"Jay," I pull up a chair next to him. I can tell he's trying hard not to look at me. He's struggling. "We were under heavy fire. You fired one round at an offender."
He's still shaking his head, his hands clenched into fists so tight, he could snap a bone and not known it.
"It was my bullet, Hailey. Not anyone else's." He sighs. "I can't believe this happened again."
He says the last word in an almost inaudible tone.
Again.
The full weight of it hits me like a ton of bricks, and I try desperately to keep my composure. The memory of him telling me about the young girl in Kandahar slowly emerges from the depths of my mind. Our eyes meet and emotions, long hidden and tortured, show for one instant on his face, and he is again that vulnerable war vet I met all those years ago.
"Oh, Jay..."
My heart – frozen, fragile, fractured – shatters in my chest. I let my guard down and pull him for a hug. He is stiff at first, but I keep holding him, and eventually, his walls come down. I feel his body start to heave as he loses the battle to contain himself, and I feel my own tears roll down my face and onto his shoulder.
An invisible channel opens between us, allowing all his emotions to flow into me: his anger, his pain, his love. They flood into my heart until I think it might burst. Eventually, the sensation becomes too much, and I pull away, my chest heaving. I thought I could do this, but I was wrong.
"Maybe we should call it a night, huh?" I feel the words come out, but I can barely get my voice above a whisper.
His eyes meet mine, and I have to restrain my hands from pulling him back to me. There's a vulnerability now, though, and he's letting himself look at me, and really see me for the first time today. In this moment, I know that everything that was once between us still exists. And it feels real like we're connected. Like we're just Jay and Hailey again.
I stand up too quickly and immediately feel dizzy. I press my fingertips against my forehead as too many conflicting emotions rush through my brain. I clear my throat. "W-Why don't you go lie down and I will bring you some tea," I say, thinking a few minutes apart would do me a world of good.
Jay stands to his full height and starts to speak, licks his lips, and starts again. "Thank you for coming."
I give him a tight-lipped smile and make my escape to the kitchen. I wrestle with my thoughts as I fill the kettle with water and turn on the stove-top's back burner. It's as if the five years I was gone did nothing to dampen my feelings for him. My body is still buzzing, my nerves vibrating. I take a few deep breaths in an attempt to compose myself.
I'm gazing at the wall in a mindless daze when I realize that the kettle is whistling like crazy. I drop a teabag in a mug and pour hot water over it. I bring the hot tea to his room and find him seated on the edge of the bed, wearing just his boxers.
I've seen Jay shirtless (naked even) numerous times, but his muscles are way more defined than before, his stomach is flat and strong, and it makes me uncomfortably warm.
"Hey," I say, dragging my gaze away from him, forcibly suppressing the thoughts the sight of him brings to mind. I place the mug on his nightstand, and add, "It's hot." I keep staring at the floor, inwardly kicking myself for not thinking of something better to say.
"Thank you."
"Okay, I better get out of here and let you get some rest," I say and begin to back away, but Jay seizes my arm with his too-warm fingers. The tingly electricity from his touch shoots all the way down to my toes.
"Can you stay?"
His words take me so completely by surprise that I can't find either breath or speech for a moment. My chest constricts. It's hard to pull in air. I suppose I must look stunned because he adds, "Just for a little while longer."
"You need your rest," I say lamely, finding the strength to turn him down without letting him see how much it kills me. While still wanting him, still loving him, I just can't be near him right now.
"Hailey..."
There's something about the way he says my name that makes me pause. Alarm bells go off in my head (for a second time). I'm running on nothing but too many cups of coffee and sheer nerves. I can't look at him, I chant in my head, trying to keep my resolve. But his fingers squeeze my arm and my willpower wobbles, and I give in to the inescapable tug and shift my gaze to meet his.
A mistake.
The moment our eyes lock, I know I can't deny him anything. "Only for a few minutes." The words come out, bypassing my brain's center for rational thought.
Jay flashes a sad, but grateful smile. He goes on to take a few sips from the tea before climbing into bed. I tell myself I will wait until he falls asleep and then I will leave.
I sit on the edge of the bed, holding myself tight. My entire world is teetering on a very dangerous edge. Being this close to him, on his bed, feeling his warmth and sensing his magnetic pull shifting me toward a place I'm not ready to go. For an instant, I feel lightheaded, and bone-deep exhaustion overcomes me. I close my eyes and focus my attention on breathing.
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
I need to keep it together for a few more minutes, then I can put distance between us – give myself some space to think, to figure this out logically and rationally, something I can't do when I'm this close to him.
Breathe.
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
A few more deep breaths.
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
Then, I will go.
x
I wake up slightly disoriented. My vision is hazy, the lights in the room too bright, but through the confusion, I sense a heavy weight around my middle, keeping me primed down. Even though it should feel uncomfortable, it doesn't. Rather, I feel snug and secure. Whatever it is it helped keep the nightmares away. I nuzzle further into the blankets– blankets that are far softer than I remember, hoping to catch a few more z's. Instead, I hear someone clear their throat.
My eyes open, and I come face to face with Will Halstead. Then last night jumps to my mind. I realize the heavy weight around my middle is Jay's arms. I must've fallen asleep here. In his bed. In his arms. I quickly extricate myself from underneath Jay, stirring him awake.
I need to get out of here.
I throw off the blankets, stand up, and everything blurs around me. I want to double over. In my periphery I see Jay scrambling too.
"I made coffee," Will says and there is something in his tone - hard, cold, uncompromising - that alarms me.
"I-I'm good thanks," I say, pushing past him towards the living room. My mind is swirling, and my attention scattered.
"Hailey, wait…" Jay calls.
I don't dare look back. I manage to get to the front door, but I stand there slightly disoriented.
"What are you doing, Hailey?" Will's voice comes from somewhere behind me.
"Uh, looking for my shoes," I say and zero in on my boots.
"No," he says and there's anger. It's subtle, but it burns under the surface. "What are you doing here? In my brother's apartment?"
"I-I stopped by last night. Wanted to make sure he was okay," I explain, running a hand through my hair. "I must've fallen asleep…"
"Don't give him false hope."
I pause and look up. "I'm not."
"That's not what it looked like." Will takes a few steps in my direction, his countenance is a little graver, his voice a little lower. "He can't go through that again. So, don't lead him on."
My hands start shaking, and I am suddenly, inexplicably angry. I shove a foot forcefully inside my boot. "Trust me, Will, I can't go through that again either."
Will takes a sip from his mug, his brown eyes colder than I've ever seen them. "Why'd you come back anyway, and why work in Intelligence? What's your angle, Hailey?" he asks gruffly. "Just what are you after?"
I scoff, too angry to do anything else. My voice rises in pitch. "I'm not after anything. If anything, I was after a job."
"You can be a cop literally anywhere, why Chicago?"
"Says the doctor who left a fancy practice in New York to patch up gangbangers," I bite back, as a whirlwind of emotions threatens to consume me.
"I came back to be closer to my family. I bet you can't say the same."
I meet his gaze, ignoring the implied dig. "I can assure you it has nothing to do with your brother."
"Hailey, you can't get back what you lost."
His words are too much. They cause me to feel again. And I don't want to feel. I shake my head trying to refute him. I shove my other foot inside my boot. My throat aches as angry tears threaten to spill from my eyes. The scar on my brow throbs with each beat of my heart.
"I... I'm not... I would never…" I try to force the words out of my burning throat and through my aching lips even as I struggle to breathe.
But my lungs are too tight. They hurt.
Everything hurts. Every single piece of me. Every inch. Every cell.
"It's not something you can replace," he says, his voice deceptively soft. "You have to let it go. Let him go."
"Will," Jay's voice reverberates, his tone scolding. He stands there fully clothed now. "What the hell are you doing?"
Our eyes meet and I try to hide the pain and misery I feel but I can't. Not from him.
"I sorry," I mouth to Jay. "I have to go."
As I turn to leave, I can hear him call my name, "Hailey, wait…"
I take the stairs two at a time, hearing him repeatedly call my name, which only makes me run harder. Faster. The memories barrel at me like a bullet from a gun. They are coming fast. I can't stop them. Tears stream down my face but I don't bother brushing them away. They flood my vision, make it hard for me to see. I climb inside my car and my chest aches. I wipe at my eyes and floor the gas, speeding while Will's words ring in my ears - You can't get back what you lost.
Thank you for reading. I hope you guys don't mind the angst. It will only get more angsty from here. Cheers, D.