"Love is what you've been through with somebody."

- James Thurber

Wednesday is more of the same - an early start, confusing leads, lunch (Italian, with Kristen), a countdown text from Jay (three days, and it finally feels a little more real), a FaceTime call about nothing in particular that she doesn't want to end.

She feels like she's just biding her time. Until they close this case. Until Saturday. Until whatever happens when Jay is here, when he's close enough to touch, if she'll let herself.

Thursday starts the same - earlier than she'd like, but they might actually be turning a corner this time, so she doesn't mind hailing a cab for work when it's just barely light out.

She texts Jay once she's in the cab. It's too early, but he's her favorite way to start the day now, and she doesn't want to break the habit of starting her workday with him.

Two days.

Her phone rings immediately, and she frowns. It's barely 6AM back home, which is easily two hours earlier than Jay ever willingly wakes up.

"Did I wake you?" She answers, pitching her voice low enough that she can fake some sense of privacy in the back of the cab.

"No, I wish," he says. "We got an early call out. It's… bad. A whole family."

"Jesus. I'm sorry. Kids?" Jay isn't fazed by much. He's isn't jaded, he feels it all - but he's seen so much - war, and pain and brutality in his own city - that she knows it's horrific just from his tone.

"Yeah." He sounds distracted, and she hears someone, maybe Adam, in the background. "Young. A couple." Kids are the worst, and rightfully so. But she knows he can still close his eyes and see the face of every child he's ever found at a crime scene.

They all can. But they seem to hit Jay especially hard.

"I'm sorry," she says again because there really isn't much else she can say. Nothing he doesn't already know, at least.

"It helps, hearing your voice." His voice is hushed, and it feels too intimate for a crime scene and the back of a cab in the early morning light.

The cab is pulling up to the curb in front of the office, and she distractedly hands the driver a couple bills and mouths a quick thanks.

"I can stay on the phone if you want," she says, shouldering her bag and heading toward the door.

"I always want, Hailey," he whispers. "But Kim and Kevin just got here. I'm gonna go catch them up. I'll talk to you later."

"Okay. Be careful."

"You too." The line goes dead and she scans her badge to get into the building. The elevator ride up is packed and she can hear Jubal and other agents talking before the doors have even opened on their floor.

It's an early morning for everyone, apparently.

—

She and OA spend the morning interviewing a suspect, and she listens to the guy lie, and lie, and lie again until she's close to her breaking point.

She steps out of the room to clear her head, but she just ends up thinking about Jay. The way his voice sounded on the phone, intense but distracted, the voice that always puts her on alert.

The voice that tells her she needs to watch out for her partner more closely than normal.

The voice that makes him feel even further away today than he already is.

The voice that's made her follow him into quiet break rooms and pull him aside and worry.

Got time for a coffee break?

It's not the same thing, but when her phone rings a minute later as she's walking into the small break room, she smiles.

He looks tired when she answers, and it makes sense. But he still smiles, a little hesitant, a little unsure.

"Checking on me, Hailey?"

She shrugs, reaching over for a disposable cup. She misses their mug wall, even if it means there are almost always half-soapy mugs in the sink.

"Just saying hi," she says.

He's at his desk, and she takes in the familiar view over his shoulder. He nods like he doesn't quite believe her, but he stands to head to the break room anyway, and it feels like a win.

She watches him close the door and settle on the couch.

"No coffee?" She asks, taking a sip. It's bitter, even by black coffee standards, but it'll do.

"I just finished my third cup," he admits, grinning. "I think that might be my daily limit."

She watches his face, the way the grin fades as the words trail off.

"Hey," he says quietly. "Is it Saturday yet?"

She smiles but shakes her head. "The Feds haven't taught me time manipulation yet, so. No."

"You're really not making the most of this experience, Hailey. I'm a little disappointed."

"Shut up," she laughs. A knock sounds in the background on his end, and she watches him pan to the door.

Kim's there, holding out his jacket and a couple files. "Hey, Hailey!" She calls, and Hailey waves. "Jay, sorry. We gotta run."

"Meet you downstairs," he says and turns back to face her. "Sorry."

She shakes her head. "Go."

He stands, and pauses. "Hey, thanks."

She smiles. "I don't know what you're talking about. This was purely for my benefit."

"Then, you're welcome."

She rolls her eyes. "Shut up. Go."

He's smiling as he hangs up, and she feels slightly more at ease.

She finishes her coffee and heads back into the interview room.

—

She grabs a salad from a deli down the block on her way back to the hotel later that night. They didn't get anywhere with the suspect, but at this point, she's really not even surprised.

Annoyed? Frustrated? Yes. But surprised? No.

It's one of those days where nothing seems to go exactly right. She's due for one, probably. Life's been a little too flirty and fun lately.

Jay calls as she's finishing her salad, and something about the way it's not their becoming-habit nightly FaceTime call makes her stomach twist a little.

"Hey," she answers, pushing her food aside and moving so she can sit and look out the window at the traffic down below. "Tired of my face today?"

"Not possible." She can hear the reverb that tells her he's in his truck, and she doesn't have to see him to know exactly how he looks after years of watching him drive, of watching his concentration and quick reflexes behind the wheel. "I just knew I wouldn't be able to tell you what I need to if I had to look at you."

She sighs. "Okay."

"Look," he starts. She can hear in his tone that she's not going to like what he has to say. "Kev messed up his knee chasing our offender this afternoon. He's okay," he says, before she can ask. "But he's on desk duty for a week, and the guy got away."

She nods, even though he can't see her face. "And this guy," he continues, "I think we're close to finding him. He killed a whole family, two kids, Hailey. Just, shot them point-blank."

"That's horrible." It is, and he knows it. It doesn't need to be said. But it feels weird letting the silence stretch over the line. She's used to watching him form the words, seeing when he's putting them together. It doesn't translate as well over the phone.

"I just… we're already stretched a little thin, and now with Kev being out," he pauses, and she hears him sigh. "I don't want to risk this guy getting away again because I wasn't there."

"Jay," she starts. She gets it. And she gets it especially from him - his guilt complex won't let him rest if there's a chance he could be doing more. But his voice stops her.

"Hailey, am I screwing this up? If I don't come out there this weekend... that's not… it for us, right? Because I -"

"Jay," she says again, louder than maybe she means to. But this, and the way his voice went quiet, softer, around the for us part, feels important. "You're not screwing this up."

It's quiet for a moment. She can hear the sounds of traffic in the background, can picture his face perfectly.

"I'd rather see you, obviously," she continues. "But I'll be home in two weeks. The reasons I want you here now are still gonna be there when I get home."

"I just don't want you to think I don't- " He pauses, and she lets him just breathe for a moment. "I don't want you to think I can't compromise or sacrifice… that I wouldn't do that for you."

It's what she'd told him about Adam. About why they hadn't worked, why they hadn't been more. She breathes out a shaky breath and focuses out the window on the traffic down below for a moment.

"This is different, Jay," she says. "If you came out here when your gut was telling you to stay and focus on work and be there for our team, you'd be sacrificing one of the best parts of yourself. That's not how it's supposed to work, not with me."

"Yeah?" It's quiet, hesitant.

"Yeah," she echos. "This is fine. It might even be better this way."

"I don't -" he starts, and she knows.

"I mean," she continues, lets her tone tease a little. "if you'd come out here this weekend, I'm not sure I'd have been able to let you leave. And then you'd have missed work. And Voight would fire you. And I'd have to find a new partner, which is just a lot of work for me."

He laughs, low and easy. "Wouldn't have been able to let me leave, huh?"

"Jesus," she mutters, laughing. They're quiet for a moment and she listens to his quiet breathing, the familiar ding ding ding of his truck door opening, his breathing louder with the phone off speaker, the sound of his boots trudging up the stairs to his apartment.

"So Kev's really okay?"

"Yeah. He won't be hopping any fences anytime soon, but he's good. Said he's gonna wear the brace to Molly's and see if it gets him any sympathy from the hot bartender."

She laughs. "The hot bartender?"

"His words, not mine," he says, adamantly.

"Mhmm."

"C'mon, Hailey. You know by now you're the only hot bartender for me. All my best drinks are with you."

"Okay," she laughs. "Don't hurt yourself with that reach."

"Definitely not a reach, but okay," he says, and the fact that she can hear the smile in his voice again helps her gut untwist a little.

"You're not spinning out about this case, are you? I'm not there to reel you back in."

"Yeah, you are. That little voice that sounds like Hailey is always with me. Usually, it's just making sarcastic comments and laughing at me, but I've learned to listen to it."

"Sometimes, you mean. Sometimes you listen."

"Yeah, well. It's a learning process."

"Jay, seriously," she says. Because she's not there. She knows enough to know she couldn't stop it from happening even if she was, but. Still. She'd be there if it did.

"Hailey, seriously. I promise. I want to close the case, but I'm good."

"Okay," she says.

"I'm good," he continues. "But I could be better."

"Hmm?" Her phone beeps against her ear and she pulls it away to accept his FaceTime call.

"Now I'm better," he says, his voice low. He's laying back in bed, his jacket still on, and he looks exhausted. "Hailey, I'm sorry."

She shakes her head. "No. You don't need to apologize for being a good teammate and a good cop. It's what makes you the best partner I've ever had."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. We'll just… start the countdown over. I'll be home soon. We'll just focus on that."

"Okay." He yawns, and she watches his eyes close briefly.

"Jay?"

"Hmm?" It's numbly and quiet, and she wants to play it on a loop, wants to watch his face relax with sleep, wants to watch the tension ease a little.

"Go to sleep," she whispers. "You're exhausted."

"Tired of my face?" The phone moves and she watches him shrug out of his jacket and lay back down.

"Not possible," she says. "I just want it to be rested the next time I see it."

"Okay." He yawns again and she smiles.

"Jay, seriously. Call me tomorrow. Sleep good."

"You too."

She watches his face for a moment more and then ends the call. She throws her takeout container in the garbage and runs through her nighttime routine quickly - brush teeth, wash face, secure weapon, PJs - before slipping into bed.

There's a text waiting when she picks up her phone to plug it in.

You're the best partner I ever had too, Hailey.

She's disappointed they'll have to start the countdown over tomorrow, but she still goes to sleep happy.

—