"Oh, I could drink a case of you darlin'

/ And I would still be on my feet."

- Joni Mitchell

The bar is crowded when she arrives a while later, but nice, and Kristen's friends make her feel at ease enough to have a couple beers, and then another. By the time a tray of shots appears at the table, it feels like as good an idea as any. She's not usually one to get drunk, but she's also not usually in a new city with no responsibilities for the next 24 hours, so.

Her phone rings as she tosses a shot back, and she picks it up but lets it ring in her hand. She doesn't want to be that person who interrupts the conversation to answer the phone when a guy calls.

"Wait," Kristen says. "Is that Jay, your partner Jay?"

She nods. Apparently, she talks about him a lot.

Kristen leans over to look at her phone screen, where Jay's face still lights up the screen as the call goes to voicemail. "The guy you get to work with every day looks like that and you're in New York because?"

She laughs, running her thumb over his name on the screen. He does look like that, but even better in person.

"It wasn't voluntary, to be honest. But yeah, he looks like that, I'm fully aware. But come on. You get to look at OA and Jubal all day, so let's not pretend you're suffering," she laughs, taking the new shot Kristen holds out.

"To attractive coworkers," Kristen says, holding up her shot to cheers.

"And to knowing we can still kick their asses," she adds, clinking their glasses together before knocking back the shot.

Her phone lights up with a voicemail from Jay, and she smiles as she lifts the phone to her ear.

"Honestly? I'm a little offended." His voice is clear through the speaker, and she smiles as she swipes over to text him.

Sorry. One of the Feds Invited me for drinks with her friends. Call you later.

Her phone buzzes in her hand almost immediately, and she laughs at his response.

It's a trap, Hailey. Don't do it. Have fun.

"Hey, Hailey," Kristen's voice pulls her back into the conversation. "So let's hear it. Why'd you become a cop?"

The million-dollar question, the one spurred on by her blonde hair and small frame since the moment she started telling people she was joining the academy.

But she knows Kristen and her friends are actually interested in the answer.

"When I was growing up, my family was robbed. After, a cop took me back to the district with her and sat me at her desk. And I just watched her work until she'd caught the guy. It was the first time I'd felt truly safe with an adult in a long time."

"She sounds like a great cop."

Hailey smiles. "She's tough. She's my desk sergeant now, actually. She takes no crap, and since I was young I knew that's who I wanted to be."

Jay was wrong, it definitely isn't a trap. It's fun, and she laughs more than she has in the week she's been here. It's not the shared history of drinks with the unit, and especially not with Jay, but it's nice to get to know new people.

She has another shot and a beer, and by the time she stands up to head back to the hotel, she's not drunk, really, but she's the closest to it she's been in a while.

Kristen hugs her and tells her she'll see her on Monday, and then she's standing out on the sidewalk hailing a cab.

She gives the driver the hotel information and then sits back and watches the lights of the city pass by. She wants to spend a couple hours just getting lost under the bright lights against the dark of the city one night before she goes home, but the tiny part of her that's still sober, and the part of her that's always a cop first knows that tonight isn't the safest choice for that.

She wants to be huddled under the down comforter, in the hotel, in the dark, talking to a guy from back home. The rush that realization sends through her makes her think it might actually be the more dangerous option.

She pays the cab driver when he pulls to a stop in front of the building and stands in the fresh air for a moment, just looking up at the lights, before she heads into the lobby and onto the elevator.

She pulls her phone out and calls Jay as she walks down the hallway to her room, and she can hear the cocky grin on his face as he answers.

"So I guess the Feds let you go. Not a trap after all."

She laughs, definitely harder than the comment warrants, and his soft chuckle through the phone makes her want to feel the sound breathed out against her skin, which is.

Well, the tipsy realization that it's not a new thought is a lot.

"Just one Fed, Kristen. She's fun."

"Fun enough you got a little drunk?" He wants to laugh at her, but she can hear the restraint in his voice.

"Maybe. What are you, a cop?"

"What? No. I'm just some guy from back home. Definitely not a cop."

"That sounds like something a cop would say," she says, digging in her pocket for the keycard. She fumbles it onto the floor and sighs dramatically as she picks it up and manages to get the door unlocked.

"A good cop would ask if you have a plan to get home safely," he says, quietly.

She smiles and shoulders the phone so she can pull her boots off. "Getting home requires a plane, which in no way am I capable of operating tonight. But getting back to the hotel, I've already managed that. I'm about to crawl in bed."

"I'm sorry. just tonight you're not capable of operating a plane? But tomorrow, totally doable?"

"Oh, totally," she laughs. She bumps against the wall and curses quietly as she works to unbutton her jeans one-handed, and his voice comes over the line.

"Look, I'm probably going to need proof you're actually in bed, there are all kinds of noises going on over there."

"Yes, Officer," she rolls her eyes. "Hang on, I'm changing." She puts the phone on speaker and sets it down on the bed while she shucks her jeans and pulls her tee off.

"I wouldn't say no to proof of that, either," he says, and she laughs long and low. She shrugs on an old comfy tee and leaves her legs bare before climbing into bed and under the covers.

She grabs the phone and presses a few buttons, and Jay's face appears on the screen.

"Trust me," she says, "the phone screen wouldn't do that proof justice."

He smirks, slow and a little too tempting for the distance between them. "I'm sure it couldn't."

She just watches his face for a moment, warmth spreading through her that has very little to do with the tequila she shot and very much to do with the lazy way he's watching her.

"But see? In bed." She pans the camera down, over the comforter, over her legs peeking out, even though it's obvious because he hasn't taken his eyes off her.

"I do see," he says. It's quiet for a couple moments and she shifts, burrowing into the pillow, propping the phone up on the pillow next to her.

"Wanna go to sleep?" His voice is quiet. He's on the couch, the low sounds of a game playing on the TV just audible.

She shakes her head. She doesn't. She's physically tired, happy to be comfortable in bed, but her mind is racing, wide awake.

"Okay," he says. "How was the rest of your day?"

"Fun," she says immediately, and she's struck by the simple fact that even though she walked miles and miles, she didn't really do all that much, and it was still one of the best days she's had in a while. "I ate a hot dog from a street vendor. I'm probably a real New Yorker now."

"Whoa, Hailey Upton. Don't break my heart," he laughs, but there's an edge to it she feels even over the miles they're apart. "Can't have two partners leave me for New York, I'll start to think it's me."

She shakes her head, her hair falling in her face a little. "It's not you." She brushes it out of the way and watches him shift on the couch, stretching out. "She invited me out for drinks while I'm here. Erin."

He nods. "You should go, if you want."

"I don't think so. I like Erin, but it was a little awkward."

"Because of me."

She frowns. His guilt complex is off the charts, and she never wants to inadvertently contribute to it. "Because you're my partner. I like talking about you, and I don't want to share our rela- partnership with someone who hurt you."

"Erin didn't-" he starts to say, but she shakes her head.

"It's okay. It's not okay she hurt you, but it's okay to admit she did," she says quietly, but firmly.

"Always so protective," he smiles, and thank god he's not focusing on the slip of the tongue she almost had. She'll blame it on the drinks, and not on the way he's looking at her.

"Yeah, well. It's part of what works."

He nods, and it's quiet again for a moment. She stretches, splaying her legs out in the bed, and not for the first time recently, she wishes the other side wasn't empty.

"Jay." she says, and she's aware that communicating like this, in the dark of a hotel room and in the quiet of his apartment, there's nothing to distract them, no one to interrupt or no work phone to ring. Anything she says will carry weight just from that fact alone.

He's watching her closely.

"Earlier today, on the bridge- " she starts, but his voice stops her.

"I wanted to be there. With you." It's the liquor coursing through her, it has to be, that causes the shiver that goes through her whole body at his words.

She bites her lip and nods. "I was gonna say I wished you were."

"Well," he smiles, but it's hesitant. "Good."

"You should be," she says, and it's impulsive, and the question that crosses his face tells her she can walk it back and it won't be awkward.

Except, the other side of the bed is cold and empty, and she'd felt something like jealousy twist in her gut at the couples on the bridge earlier, and she doesn't want to feel that, not if there's a chance she doesn't have to.

"You should be here. Come for the weekend, see the sights. See me," she says, in a rush of words.

"I see you right now, Hailey." If her words surprise him, he's good at hiding it.

"That's different."

"I know," he sighs. It feels like something has shifted, and maybe she should have walked it back, kept that impulse to herself, like she usually does. "You're drunk right now, Hailey. Sleep on it and we'll revisit it sober."

She nods. It's not the shared excitement she'd wanted, but it's not a no. It's Jay, being calm and smart and protective, all the things that make him the best partner. "Okay. But I'm barely drunk," she adds, because even though it might not be true, her stubborn side has to win something.

"Okay," he whispers, but it's teasing. "I'm gonna go, Ruze and Kev and I are going to the Hawks game tomorrow, so I can't sleep all day. Get some sleep, okay?" His voice is gentle, and he's watching her carefully.

She smiles. "You too."

"Goodnight, Hailey."

"Night," she whispers. The call ends and the screen goes dark, taking the light from the room.

She rolls over to her back and breathes in and out slowly a few times. It's Jay, and it's her, so she knows nothing is ruined.

He'd told her they were always gonna be good, and she knows deep down, no matter what else happens, that's true. It's a certainty she'd risk it all on.

But she feels a little silly for how sure she'd been that he'd jump at the chance to come out here. It's not like it's down the block.

It's not like she won't be back to him, back home, in three weeks.

It's not like they're dating.

By necessity, she's learned not to jump without looking first. She's done it before, and it's never worked out, not when she's really invested in the outcome.

This feels like jumping, and plummeting, and hoping a specific person catches her while he's falling too, if he's falling at all.

She knows she trusts Jay with her life. He wouldn't let her fall if he wasn't at least going to try to catch her. She's pretty sure.

She's sure.

She's sure she's drunker than she originally realized. Maybe from the liquor. Maybe from his smile in the dark.

Probably both.

—