Ayyyyee my people! So I hope y'all won't get too mad, but I'm not going to spend a lot of time on Jay's recovery, because, well, there are more important issues at hand. That said, I will be spending the next couple of chapters on his rehabilitation and clearing up a few...details.
Special shout out to Marriedonavan, for the amazing review. You helped make this chapter possible. And a giant thank you to everyone who reviewed last chapter, you have no idea how much your kind words mean to me. They are literally the only reason I open a doc anymore.
Ocean- Boy Kiss Girl
Jay's P.O.V.
"Easy, easy Jay."
"I got it!" I hiss, sweat dripping down the back of my neck. I don't have it actually, and both Antonio and I know it. The next step has my foot catching on the carpet and I crumple. Pain flares up my spine, making my vision darken for a couple seconds as hands catch me underneath my arms. I feel weird, like I'm floating and gravity has no affect on me. My muscles relax at the same time, leaving me collapses against Dawson. Which would be more embarrassing if I could just get control over my body again.
"Halstead!" There's a change in altitude, where I'm straightened then pushed back down, into a chair I think. Blinking my eyes open is interesting, because I don't remember closing them, although the past few weeks I've been experiencing a lot of that. Dawson's worried face pops into my vision followed by a sharp sting across my cheek.
"Jay! Hey, say something-" I eye his hand warily as it starts to rise again, compelling me to obey him.
"I'm fine, I'm fine. Quit yellin Tony, I'm okay." He gives me a flat look so full of sarcasm it's almost an Erin Lindsay face.
"And here I was thinking almost passing out meant you very far from fine. Thank you for correcting me on that one, I'll remember it for next time." I find it in me to glare, but accept the water bottle he hands me.
"I didn't 'almost pass out'."
"No you're right, you did pass out."
"Did not!'
"Would you like me to get Rhodes to explain to you the definition of 'passing out', because I'm sure he won't mind-"
"Won't mind what?" Groaning I turn and look at the incoming doctor. Before Dawson can get a word out, I stand up again, pushing off the wall but standing none the less. The low ache that seems ever present in my back flares slightly but stays manageable.
"I'm fine-"
"He pushed himself to hard and fainted." Turning with a look of betrayal I glare at Antonio.
"Did not." Rhodes just raises his eyebrows, only slightly surprised.
"Well then, let's get a doctor's opinion."
"Dawson come on-" I whine, sounding every bit like a five year old kid.
"No, I want to know." He turns to Connor. "What would you say, as a general definition, the term 'passing out' defines?"
"Uh...loss of consciousness, I guess." Antonio turns to me with a smirk. I sigh and drop my head.
"Wasn't unconscious." I mutter.
"Coulda fooled me."
"Alright ladies, can I take care of my patient now?" Dawson send me one last triumphant smirk, to which I respond by sticking out my tongue. He laughs, says something about texting Erin then exits the small gym like therapy room with a goodbye. A little bit of dread pools in my stomach at the thought of facing Lindsay later today. No doubt Antonio's going to be all dramatic about it when he tells her how the session went, as she'll surely ask. She's been telling me lately to slow down, that I don't have to push to impress them. If only she knew.
Something bumps into my legs. Carefully I turn my head then frown.
"I can walk back."
"Jay…"
"I can walk back."
"Sit down."
"No." Rhodes glares at me.
"I was just told my patient passed out during PT because he was pushing himself to hard. Which means you're overtired and physically exhausted."
"Which means Antonios a drama queen and I'm fine."
"Halstead…"
"It's like ten yards and an elevator. I can do this." He stares at me, a war battling in his mind over what to say.
Truth? It's been so slow going, all the movements and exercises seeming near impossible when I first start them. Being given the okay to start walking sounded absolutely fantastic...until I realized how hard it would be. I was making progress too, and the suddenly, this past week has been so hard, and so painful, it's all I can do to try and get through half the excises.
Yes, it makes me feel invalid. And yes, I know I'm not actually incapable and my body just needs time. Doesn't stop me from getting angry when I can't even reach my arms high enough to wash my hair in the shower because the movement pulls on my stitches. Never mind the fact I can barely stand long enough to take a shower.
I can do this. I can. I'm not stable enough to recover balance, which is what I tried to do ten minutes ago when I tripped and it pulled just about everything in my back. Hence the floaty blackness. But we hadn't even walked half the normal distance today, because I had to keep stopping to regain control over my breathing. Which was getting out of hand because of the pain. Dawson was great, don't get me wrong, but I really needed Erin or even Al.
Unfortunately, they have lives outside of my misfortune, and had to work.
But if I could do this, then maybe the day wouldn't count for nothing.
"Fine. But when we get back your going to let me check the incision, and then you're going to rest without any arguments or protesting. Capiche?" With my vigorous nod he returns the wheelchair to where ever he got at and we're off.
I'm thinking this might have been a bad idea about halfway through the elevator ride. I know Rhodes thought it was a bad idea before we even got here, but it seems as though just stepping into the metal box gave me pain. Which isn't really unusual, I can deal with pain, I live with it twenty four seven nowadays so I am very used to it. But normally it's just a ache that makes it hard to do much of anything. Makes it hard...not impossible.
The pins and needles that are climbing up my back as the elevator goes down are making it near impossible to stay composed. And standing. Rhodes is looking at me with worry as I push out a hard breath, trying hard not moan. He's about to say something, but then the elevator dings, and I'm pushing my way off the contraption, knowing the sooner I get off it the sooner I get down the hall to my room, and therefor, a chair. Or a bed.
See this isn't my first time in physical rehab. In fact the last time I was in this situation it took me almost a year to get back to my full physical capabilities. Probably why I'm working so hard now, because it's only been three weeks since I woke up to a very clingy (and adorable) Erin, and I'm already losing my mind.
I need to do something. No one will tell me anything about the case, not even Mouse. Its very annoying, especially since everytime I ask him he just kind of gets this nervous guilty look on his face then makes a very fast exit. Which means he knows something, or did something that he doesn't want to tell me about because he knows I'll react in a negative way.
Which I will, when I find out whatever the fuck it is. Not because it was bad or anything, but because he was hiding it from me.
I'm literally panting now, hugging the wall as I force my feet to move. I'm about three feet from my room, and the fire that was licking its way up my back has turned into a million knives, stabbing into my nerves with viscous anger. I stumble, legs uncooperative. My mouth opens in a silent scream, pure agony taking my breath and strength. Rhodes is talking in my ear, catching me as I slump, knees going out. He starts talking louder, telling me to breath while simultaneously asking me what wrong. His hand move just a fraction of an inch, brushing my spine-
Blackness rushes up behind my eyes and consumes me rather suddenly.
"...and we'll put Blue over hear, sniper to cover the west side." My nickname, however cute before, serves only to anger me more. I knew the second Jordan was put as lead instead of me that this would happen, and I'll be damned if they think this is ok.
"Woah what? C'mon Braddock that's not even a decent scope position." The senior blonde lifts his head, face hard as he stares at me, his self appointed protege, who, interestingly enough, has a higher rank than him. But then we're in two different armies, so the ranking system might be different. Sam's been with us for three months now, we still haven't bothered to find out much about him. Just that his father ordered him with us while the rest of his team got leave. Besides, him and Matt have proved themselves more times than I deem necessary.
It gets quiet in the tent. Well. Quieter. More like the tension rises.
"The spot clearly and easily covers the only side of the building that has windows, if one of us needs help that's the only way to get decent coverage."
"I'm going to disregard the fact that you are trying to get me killed by putting me in a wide open area with no cover, and move on to the fact that you're giving me a rookie's job." Sam grits his teeth, but doesn't say anything as I demote his profession to something a first year could do. It's his glance at Rachel however, that tips me off.
"Are you kidding me?!"
"Jay-" She sighs.
"No! This is about what happened on the last mission. Do you people not speak english anymore?! I am fine! Get that through your heads! I am not one of your damn transfers that doesn't know how to properly hold a knife. I know how to do my job!"
"Lieutenant no one is saying that-"
"Really?!" I round on Jordan. "So, what, this is your little guilt trip then? You're upset I got a bruise or two on a raid and suddenly that means you have to treat me like glass?! No, no way. I go in with you."
"Not happening."
"Seriously?! Put Braddock on shoot, he's a million times better than me and he knows how to pick a decent sniper perch!" Adams looks between the two of us, clearly seeing a full blown argument about to explode.
"Hey Ray...I'm not taking sides here but...he's got a point. Sam can get a better shot and he knows when to get out." I watch as all three girls turn to glare at our bomb expert. No one says anything, but finally the first lieutenant sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. Dropping her hands to the table she looks at the JTF2 sniper.
"Can you find a better spot to position yourself?" Now it's the sisters turn to be outraged.
"What?!"
"Rachel come on-"
"Shut it!" She snaps. They oblige, and she looks back at Braddock, who just nods, solem as usual. He mutters something about going to get his stuff and leaves the tent. The next couple minutes go rather smoothly, Rachel just outlining the change and explaining where I'm going. I'm still last to go in, so it'll be unlikely I'll see any action. I am taking the job of what we call 'the catch'. Basically, I follow last, but stay alert, so if anyone gets in trouble, it's my job to haul ass to their position and help them. Which is an issue. Right now it's pretty obvious the team feels ridiculously guilty about what happened two days ago. It also means, because of their guilt, they are less likely to call for help. Or more accurately, they'll hesitate.
Which could cost someone a life. Because of me.
But I'm smart enough to keep my mouth shut about the position, especially since with an entire team of worry ready to bench me. I stay quiet, really, I try. But when the exit plan consists of us walking through uncharted, possibly terrorist controlled territory, I cannot help but protest.
"What else do you want Jay?! We drop in, the nearest tunnel entrance is four miles farther than that town."
"And that's also the nearest town that isn't controlled by extremists. It has at least one pre stationed vehicle set by the last guys who were there."
"Oh, yeah, that's fantastic. Really, that's just mind blowing. We have a car. Cool. I suppose that will help us when we all die before we get there." It's like it's 'let's play stupid' day. Can't they see how dangerous this is?!
"It's not like there are going to be people chasing us out."
"Who gives a shit?! Those are sharp, peaking hills, they surround the road for the entire mile we'd be on it. We'd be wide open, no cover, no way of knowing if anyone was hiding in a bush waiting to snipe our heads off!"
"Oh okay then do you have a better idea?!" Rachel just about yells. No, they can't see how dangerous this is. All they see is a distress signal and their overbearing second lieutenant telling them not to got to it. They don't see the danger to themselves. How could they? We're trained not to, to crave battle, to rush into danger with the smarts to get out of it.
We are taught to look out for others. But never ourselves.
"Rachel we can't do this we need a better plan-"
"We don't have time!"
"Someone's gonna get killed Ray!"
"I think we can handle it! We've only spent every minute of free time training to do so!"
"We haven't been trained how to dodge bullets!"
"Halstead-" I should stop. I know that tone. But I don't. Everyone's been staring, eyes going back and forth between us like they were watching a tennis match. Not that I blame them. We haven't fought like this since…
"You need to just listen to me for two seconds-"
"I DON'T NEED TO LISTEN TO YOU!" She roars, pure, loud and terror inducing to most. I can't do anything but breath and blink, shock ruining my thought process.
"I don't need to do anything you tell me Halstead! Get that through your head! This is not a democracy and you are not in charge here! I make the decisions, not you! Now either you go with our extraction plan, or you can go sit in the fucking infirmary until we come back! I don't really give two shits which one you choose, but we are going in. Are you with us or not?!"
A deep sense of betrayal floods through me, followed closely by a burning rage that settles in my stomach and pulse, making my hands tremble and my skin feel hot. It burns with a vengeance, filling my head with smoke and making it hard to think. The flames are so vicious it hurts, although that may just be the fact that my best friend just about disowned me in front of my family.
Yes, we've fought before. Yes, it has gotten ugly like this. Yes, lives had been involved in all of those times.
But she has never, ever, pulled rank on me. I always considered it a rule. Something along the lines of deep respect and trust.
"Yes, lieutenant." I reply, jaw clenched, feet planted perfectly apart in attention while my face and voice reveal my anger and hurt. Jess is looking at the guys, while her sister is staring at her hands, probably trying to figure out what just happened. Or maybe she's just actively avoiding my eyes, like Greyson and Adams are. Because they think she's right.
I don't turn on a heel like I want to. I can't. I'm shaking too hard and my ribs are screaming the amount of yelling I did. Instead I just grab my gloves and slip out of the tent.
We climb onto the plane not even ten minutes later, masks already on. I fix the black material in my reflection on Rachel's belt as she sits across from me, making sure the symbolic blue bird is clearly visible. No one looks at me.
My knuckles are white underneath the fake leather material of my gloves. Despite being in tightly closed fists, my hands won't stop shaking.
The familiar weight of painkillers greet me as I come too, making my eyelids difficult to lift. Eventually I manage to, a familiar blurry room mixing with the same familiar beeping I have come to associate with the scenery. Including the mound of golden brown/blond "I have no idea what to call that color of hair" that resides on Erin Lindsay's head.
She sees my open eyes and smiles, the dim light glinting in her own glassy orbs. She looks like she wants to cry.
"We need to stop meeting like this." She whispers, a weary but not exhausted look on her face that lets me know I haven't been out long.
"What are you talking about, this is the best way to see you in that messy bun of yours." I rasp, voice not much higher than hers. A hand fits in mine.
"Are you in pain?"
"No." She nods, looking more at my fingers than me. Guilt floods through me, influencing some sense of self loathing. I caused this. I caused that anxiety to show on her face, just like I seem to be the cause of all her stress lately. Because I decided to play hero and made a mistake.
"Erin, I'm sorry." The seriousness makes her raise her head to look at me, furrowed brow and all.
"For what?"
"You told me I was moving too fast and I didn't listen and I'm so sorry I keep doing this to you-"
"Woah hey you aren't doing this on purpose. You were shot Jay. Three times. I don't expect you to just hop out of bed and be able to run the Boston Marathon. You need time and space and support and I'm going to give you whatever you need. I don't care how long it takes you, I'm going to be here for you."
"You're not mad at me?" She frowns.
"Of course I'm not mad at you. It wasn't your fault, and even if it was because you were pushing so hard, I'd understand. I would be doing the same thing."
"But I was pushing so hard and you told me to slow down but I just-"
"Wait, stop for a second. Jay, it wasn't your fault."
"What?" Her eyes land on me, full of compassion and caring so intense it makes my heart swell.
"One of the bullet fragments...they couldn't get it out in surgery, it was to close to your spine. Well... it shifted. You remember a few days ago, when you slipped and did that wild twist thingy so you didn't land on your face?" I nod, grimacing at the memory. That one hurt.
"It's like that released it, and slowly over just general movements and PT, it got caught in a muscle that pressed it up against your spine. The thing was, where it was positioned meant it was pressing on a nerve...but only when you were putting weight on your legs. Which is why walking suddenly became so much harder. Every step you took put pressure on the piece of metal, but also your spinal chord, so it also made the signals your body received from you legs weaker."
"So the reason why I'd been stumbling so much…"
"...was because you couldn't feel your legs. You were in so much pain because the shard was pressing on a nerve." I blink, surprised. And here I thought the discomfort was on my part, like I was just tired. Which is why I started pushing myself even harder.
A laugh jolts me from my thoughts.
"Don't be so surprised Jay. You might've been able to fool Dawson, but Al and I knew something was up. Ever since you took that fall...it was like everything was suddenly the times more painful and I saw what it was doing to you. I just...I didn't say anything else because I was afraid that would make you believe you weren't trying hard enough for me. Which would've made you try harder and be in more pain and maybe hurt yourself worse. Because of me."
I can't help it. Really I try but a grin breaks out on my face despite my efforts. She sighs, looking exasperated.
"Why are you smiling."
"Well I just think it's ironic that you and I can't seem to blame anyone but ourselves, and yet we're dating each other, and constantly tell each other not to blame themselves. So if we were to get married, we could claim the official title of 'the hypocrite lovers' and the circle of dramatic irony would be complete." Erin stares at me, looking dumbfounded and shocked and overall not laughing like she should be.
"You know...because...we both said we'd never date partners...and we used to say we'd never…"
"Get married?" She chokes out, staring at me, some expression on her face, one I can't place. It's like shock mixed with trepidation and something else that seems to flower and bloom and soon takes over her expression before it all falls away to be replaced by a wry smile. It's too bad I'm already stammering a response to notice it.
"Hey, no, I just-I didn't mean to upset you Er, I was just-"
"Joking?!" She snaps. I wince.
"Linds I'm sorry-" I break off as she stands, and it's only the barely suppressed grin that abates my fear that I really upset her. She turns off the light above me while I can only manage a stare in awe, wondering what the fuck is going on and whether or not I'm still in trouble and why is she grinning like that.
"Well, I'm going to bed. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Wha-wait I thought…" The words get softer as the sentence goes on and she leans over to press her lips to mine. My skin feels hot where her fingers touch it.
"But what about-" I whisper, which she silences with another peck. Which I'm ok with.
"I tell you what soldier." Her lips nibble on my ear, and I moan, my blood feeling hot. It's unfortunate I'm bound to my bed, because the things I'm thinking about…
"If you ever get the balls to stop joking...that is definitely something I might be able to help you with."
...is NOT what I'm thinking about. Wow that went sideways so fast I-
Wait, Wut.
Unfortunately Erin is already out the door, saying something about being back tomorrow and bringing a something for me. The heavy woods closes with a soft click, leaving the room in near total darkness.
My head is spinning to fast for coherent thought to manage itself and everytime I try to process what just happened the ideas and emotions slam into into each other. Relief and understanding in knowing I was wrong about my inabilities mix with the ever present guilt I find when I think of what I put Erin through. Hope blooms and swirls with the mix, because even though I underwent another surgery, it sounded relatively minor, which means I'll be sore and weak for about a week before it goes away and in that time I could talk to Mouse maybe, and catch up on the case.
And then there's that evolving giddiness that's settled in my chest. I can't squash it, no matter what I try to do to calm it. It's like this unstoppable energy, and it fills my lungs and pulses in my veins, making me feel light and floaty and this is probably the drugs because my eyes are really heavy now. But I'll fall asleep with a grin on my face.
Because for all her play and teasing, I'm pretty sure Erin Lindsay just said she'd marry me.
A guy can celebrate can't he?!
Hehe. That was for my Linstead people and because HAS ANYONE BEEN ON TUMBLR LATELY JESUS CHRIST THANK GOD HIATUS IS OVER AND THE CAST LOVES BUSHFUR AS MUCH AS WE DO.
Also I have the feeling we are going to get an interesting premier his year, as well as some definite whump to somebody, or somethings going to happen and Intelligence is going to be in full force protective mode.
:DDD I actually cannot wait.
Drop me a Review on your way out yeah? Please? Pretty please?