Hello, so I started writing this chapter, and it became a monster. I didn't want to post it in one and I also don't want to post them on separate days so this and the next chapter, I hope you enjoy. Thanks to nons so much for everything, you're amazing and thank you all for so much encouragement and your reviews so far. You're all amazing xx
Some, particularly Voight in recent weeks, would probably shake their head and laugh ruefully at the very idea that Jay can be patient.
He can be though and he has to be. It's almost a week since he went under and still he's not exchanged a word with anyone except the lady bartender named Marcie.
Most days, he's sat at the bar on a stool, side on so he can watch the other customers. The regulars. Not that there are many. The ones that are there sit mostly alone, though there are a couple of small groups that sit near each other barely exchanging a word, hands always close to their glasses or bottles.
It's a strange atmosphere. There's still nothing that quite stands out as it being a place for veterans, but now he's been here a little while, he can spot the ones who are.
Their hands tremble as they lift their bottles. They share a distant look in their eyes and the fact that they're here all day long. Reluctant to leave when the bar finally closes as though they're all too aware that going home involves shutting their eyes and bringing on the demons they try so hard to chase away with alcohol the entire time they're here.
Jay feels it. Has had occasions where he's lived it.
Barnet's rarely here. When he is, he disappears through a door at the far side of the bar.
Jay will wait as long as he needs to. He has a play, he's biding his time as anyone like Ryan Foster would; forget Jay Halstead. A skilled soldier waits for the right moment.
"Last drink before we shut?"
Jay turns his head towards Marcie. She's in her fifties, Jay estimates. Whip thin. Makeup a little too heavily applied; brunette hair that's got a streak of gray right through the roots. When she smiles which is rare, Jay thinks she's almost beautiful. Probably was once upon a time. Likely never imagined she'd end up somewhere like this.
Jay nods, "Please," as he hands the glass over to her. Somehow he's spaced each drink starting with beer over two hours or more so he doesn't feel drunk. It's almost 1am, and he's been here since early evening.
Adrenaline stops the drink from having the worst effects and he's always on his guard so he doesn't let it go out of control until and if he ever needs to.
He can feel Marcie's eyes on him as she pours the mixer in with the vodka and hands it to him when she's done.
"Funny how I never saw you here before the last 5 or 6 days and now you can't stay away. At least your clothes are getting a little cleaner if not tidier."
Jay looks down at what he's wearing which is cleaner and less ripped than the previous days while still too big for him, lifts the glass and looks at her, turns on the charm and his most winning smile, "It's the amazing and charming staff this bar has that keeps me coming back."
Her laugh is loud, genuine and honestly it's actually the first time he's seen her happy for more than a second. She leans her body over the bar towards Jay a little more and whispers.
"Well, you only gotta say honey and I'll tell everybody to go home. Man like you, I could show ya a thing or two."
"I'm sure you could, you're kinda outta my league though," Jay laughs.
"Honey, you weren't even born, or you were knee-high to a grasshopper when my league formed but all the same I'm gonna take that as a win seeing as you didn't say no, so apart from the stunningly attractive bartender, what brings you here?" then she slams her hand on the bar and holds her finger up, "No, wait before that what's your name?"
"Ryan."
"Huh, yeah you fit a name like Ryan, well hi, so back to my original question, what brings you here?"
In their own way, bartenders are as effective at questioning as any detective can be. Arguably, more so. They hold a captive audience with lips loosened by alcohol coupled with the way it lowers a person's defenses.
Marcie's no different to any other bartender out there. Jay's not her average customer though, or rather Ryan.
"Boredom and drinking away my problems and all my money seems a lot better spent here than staring at 4 walls all day."
"Figures, you're different though Ryan, sure you drink but not as much as Terry over there," she says pointing to a corner table where a man in his forties or maybe his fifties, it's hard to tell, is staring nowhere other than at the bottle he's drinking from. Next she points to the table where 3 men are sitting. Older than Terry Jay thinks, "Those 3, they're calm today but a few weeks back, they put each other in hospital. They wouldn't be without each other like they weren't without each other in Vietnam, probably die close to each other too anyway yeah you're different."
Jay's gaze returns to Terry before he looks back at Marcie.
"Maybe."
"Given you spend a lot of time here I'm guessing you don't work?"
"Sure you're not a psychic Marcie?"
"Ha, sure you're not a smartass Ryan?" Marcie fires back and they both share a grin.
Jay leans forward, puts on his best puppy dog eyes, the effect lost somewhat by the facial hair and the fact he doesn't appear so young anymore.
"Do you know of any jobs? I've tended a few bars here and there. I'm reliable."
Marcie looks over Jay's shoulder, shrugs and Jay looks behind him and sees Barnet who if he was giving any sign of eye contact or reaction stopped the moment Jay looked around.
"Is that the guy I need to ask? Should I ask him?"
Marcie's shake of the head is definite, and she looks panicked for a second, "No. Listen, I'll ask around to see if I can find any jobs, no promises though, but I'll try."
Jay nods then glances back towards Barnet who's not moved from where he's leaning against the doorway he disappears through every time he comes to the bar.
"Ryan," Marcie's voice is sharp, and it's enough for Jay to return his attention back to her, "Promise me you won't ask him, please?"
"I promise Marcie," Jay confirms. He doesn't ask 'why are you so worried that I might?' doesn't need to because it's written all over his face and they both know it.
The woman purses her lips, looks ready to respond but gives him a tight smile and says, "Good, now I'd better go clean the bar before we close."
Jay watches her before he looks back toward where Barnet had been standing. He's not there anymore though and Jay has to stifle a yawn. A reminder of the lack of sleep he'd had last night.
Lack of sleep caused by unsettled dreams. Maybe not so different from Terry and everyone in this bar after all.
He drains his drink and pulls out a bill, laying it flat on the counter and walks out.
Jay's already waiting when Hailey pulls up in the car she's driving and as a truck with Voight driving pulls in alongside it.
Hailey gets out of the car and walks over to where Jay's standing, his mouth wide open, staring at the car as she holds her hand out with the keys in them to hand to him.
"You said old, Jay."
"Didn't think you'd take me literally but you're right I said old and as long as it moves."
It's a gray ford focus and up closer it's not too bad, a little rusty. Just older and smaller than Jay's used to.
He takes the keys from Hailey as Voight joins them.
"Any progress, Jay?" the older man inquires.
"Not sure if you caught the latest but Marcie talked to me last night. I asked if there were jobs. Caught her looking at Barnet and she seemed a little scared and shut herself down."
"Slow progress then," Voight comments.
"Sarge, these things take time," Jay protests.
"I know. I'm just passing on what I know will come down to me any day now if there's no progress soon."
Jay breathes out, "Yeah I get it. They don't even know I'm former army yet, or maybe they do and we're all playing poker waiting to see who'll blink first."
"Probably not too late to get Ruzek's CI to make an introduction to Barnet?" Hailey suggests.
"Jay?"
Hailey watches Jay as he looks from Voight to her, considers it for a moment, then shakes his head.
"Not yet. I feel like maybe I made some progress last night. Next week if there's nothing, maybe, but not yet."
Voight nods and looks as though he's about to ask a question before his cell rings and he puts his hand up before he answers it, walking away.
"Are you okay? Sleeping?" Hailey asks after a few too many seconds of silence between them.
She suspects she knows the answer. It's not only the beard that gives Jay the exhausted down on his luck effect, nor his clothes. It's the eyes that too. The same exhaustion, the same sense of weariness he's worn since he shot the little girl; since Lindsay left.
Hell probably since he took the weight of the world on his shoulders. Sometimes being undercover can be a focus and maybe once it really kicks into gear, if it does, then it'll give him the energy lift he needs or she senses he does.
Jay hesitates before answering, narrows his eyes and shrugs, "New place to live. New bed and all, always going to take a while."
"Uh-huh," Hailey tries not to look as unconvinced as she feels. It's not helpful right now to put doubt into Jay's mind even while she feels it herself, even though he probably does too.
"Hey, think you can find anything on Marcie?" Jay changes the subject as Voight returns shaking his head at his phone.
"Got a last name?"
"No, I'll work on that later. I feel like I'm so close."
Some could mistake Jay's belief for desperation. Hell, go back a few weeks Hailey would have said it aloud, but she feels like she knows him better. Read him better anyway. It's just fervent belief on his part that he can reach out and touch the next stage of it all, almost perhaps.
"Okay, so keep going Jay," Voight urges, "Stay in touch with Upton and we'll look into this Marcie to see if we can find her. Can't be that many. Meantime, you stick with the plan and if nothing changes by the middle of next week, we look at Adam's CI."
Jay nods gratefully, turning the keys over in his hand and watching as Hailey and Voight get in the older man's car and drive away before he gets in the car, finding a coffee cup on the passenger seat that he reaches for to throw out the door before he realizes its warm and as he removes the lid, it's not black as Hailey would have it. It's how he likes his coffee.
Perhaps it's the first time Jay himself rather than Ryan smiles in days. A genuine one at that.
Marcie smiles as Jay throws his jacket onto the back of the stool and sits down, ready to order his drink.
"I took a wild guess," she places the bottle in front of him.
"Excellent memory."
Marcie scoffs, "You don't work as long as I have in this game and not get to know your regulars' orders. Also, I have a notebook as my memory isn't what it was."
Jay lifts the bottle and tilts it in her direction in acknowledgement.
"You look tired today, Ryan."
Jay flicks his eyes up toward Marcie, "Why does everyone feel the urge to say that to me?"
"Everyone?" she questions.
"Well, back in the day everyone," Jay amends, "You're the first person to care in I don't know how long."
"Oh wait, let me go fetch my violins."
"No one likes sarcasm, Marcie."
"No one likes a sad sack, Ryan," Marcie's expression softens, "Ex-army right?"
Two things happen. The first which draws attention to the second. Marcie's good at covering, but not good enough. Her eyes dart left for a fraction of a second too long and Jay lifts his bottle and glances in the same direction seeing Peter Barnet slide onto a stool, his cell in his hand and acting for all the world like he's not listening.
Jay's done it himself before. Many times. He's also acted as though he hadn't noticed something like this multiple times before too and as he sets the bottle down, peers at Marcie whose attention is fully on him again now, he's ready to do it again.
"Yeah. Rangers. Two tours in Afghanistan."
"Bad?"
Jay's automatic reaction is to say 'hell yeah, the worst' and he figures Ryan's would be too. Except for the camaraderie. The Ryan Foster he is now absolutely misses it for all that he lost, suffered and feels the effects of till today.
"Sometimes it was the worst thing you can imagine. Sometimes I can't get the smell of blood out of my mind or it's the first thing I can smell when I wake up if I even sleep at all. The cordite. The bodies. Every day I miss the guys though."
"Ever see any of them?"
"Nope. Most of them are dead, died in country or were too traumatized or drunk like me." Jay states flatly.
"Oh honey," Marcie lays a hand on his arm but she's too obvious again, the way her gaze shifts left again.
Jay can see without even turning his head that Barnet's staring at him. Can feel the gaze burning into him. Plays up to it a little.
"Better family than any of my own," he looks beyond Marcie, "Give anything to get that feeling back. Better than being here, drinking or sleeping in an apartment close to where a younger Ryan thought he'd end up or maybe a house with a wife and 2 kids."
"Not too late to have all that Ryan."
"And yet I've still not got a job."
Marcie's more obvious this time, though Jay deliberately doesn't look up. Instead, he stares at the bottom of the beer bottle even as Barnet and Marcie have a silent conversation for a few seconds.
When he looks up finally, Marcie's turned away to make a drink for one of the other regulars who nods at Jay before Jay looks to his right and the space where Barnet had been sitting.
All signs of him having been there disappearing without a trace like it was all part of Jay's imagination.
It's cold when Jay leaves and he tightens the jacket around him and walks as fast as he can back toward his apartment.
This time of night it's still quite busy, but not so busy that after a few minutes Jay's aware of a constant presence behind him.
Jay doesn't have a weapon. He turned his wire off just before leaving. He's confident enough in his own abilities at hand to hand combat but he'd rather not try even though he'd not drunk very much tonight at all as Marcie instead of paying more attention to him After their conversation had instead paid less.
He arrives at the apartment that's above a store and stops quickly, turning around. The familiar man steps within a handshake's distance from Jay and offers a smile.
"Ryan? I'm Peter Barnet. Marcie's told me a lot about you, could we talk?"
The apartment is tiny. Any wallpaper there is, is peeling off, and the tiles of the kitchenette are stained yellow. Courtesy of a previous occupant, a smoker perhaps?
There's just two small windows. For all the world, it's like a prison cell rather than an apartment. For the price Ryan or anyone in the world would pay for it, it's hardly surprising.
Perhaps 5 or even 10 years ago, it would've been sought after despite the few redeeming qualities. Small but tidy. A handy place to be. Now it's every inch or foot of a place that someone like Ryan would end up.
Jay watches Barnet as he takes in the small apartment and nods before he looks at Ryan.
"I followed you because I wasn't sure I believed what you told Marcie. I'll be honest, I still don't fully buy your story but I can check. Afghanistan?"
"Korengal Valley."
Barnet's eyebrows raise upwards, "Enough said," he gestures toward the couch and Jay nods observing the older man as he sits down, stretching out his long legs then peering up at Jay.
"I did Iraq. Came home expecting to be a hero. Was anything but. Ring any bells?"
"Yeah," Jay mutters, staring at the floor.
"Men like us are forgotten, Ryan. Cast aside. Sometimes we got to take care of ourselves, each other. You know?"
Jay looks up, "All I need to get back on my feet is a job, Mr Barnet."
"Ever seen any of your buddies killed, Ryan or you ever had one kill that haunted you?"
"Haven't we all?" Jay fires back, noting the slight smile that appears on Barnet's features, it's not a sympathetic smile or a smile between two former soldiers. It's something else.
"Okay. Own a razor and any clean undamaged clothes?"
Jay nods.
"Use them. Wear them. Start tomorrow. Behind the bar, Marcie could use a hand," Barnet stands up reaching out his hand to shake Jay's before he withdraws it slightly, "What did you say your last name was, kid?"
"I didn't. It's Foster."
Barnet shakes Jay's hand and smiles before he murmurs, "Good," then he walks toward the door, stopping for a moment and turning back to look at Jay, all traces of a smile gone he adds, "If I find you're lying to me at any stage for any reason Ryan Foster, it won't end well. 11am tomorrow, by the way."
Then without another word or any chance for Jay to respond, he opens and shuts the door behind him.
If Jay was in any doubt about Barnet, that's gone now.