Chapter 8,

"Usually with nature of your injuries combined with the physical demands of your job, I would recommend at least two or three weeks off before returning to work." Dr. Stein stood at the foot of Erin's bed discussing her discharge instructions with her and Hank. "But with your memory loss, I would actually encourage you to go back to work sooner." He raised his hands at Hank, who had been clearly getting ready to protest. "Nothing physical - just desk duty. But I think it's important to resume your normal routines and schedules as soon as possible."

"How soon?" Erin asked, ignoring Hank's worried glances.

"As long as your returning only to light duty, I don't see why you can't go back on Monday." Dr. Stein concluded. "The nurse is putting together your discharge paperwork now. It will take a couple hours, but then you are free to go, Erin."

Monday! Monday was only two days away! Thank God. She was eager to get back to work. Because even with the memory loss, she knew how to be a detective. It was the only thing she felt sure about right now.

With Dr. Stein out of the room, Hank began to voice his concerns. "Erin," he began. It had only been a few days since her injury. When she woke up, he had watched as the world fell apart around her. "I'm not sure Monday is a great idea-"

"Hank," she cut him off, giving him a serious look. "The doctor said it was fine. I'm fine," she said reassuringly.

"I don't care what your doctor says," He responded gruffly. "I have the final say." Surely, it was too soon. "I will think about it and let you know," he finished, his voice more calm.

"What gives you the final say?" She replied in a whining tone, feeling like a reprimanded teenager again.

"I'm your boss." He said matter-of-factly.

Right. For a moment, she had forgotten. In her mind, she was returning to her job as a detective in Vice. A place where she felt competent. A place where she knew everyone. But now she was in... Intelligence. With Hank as her boss. And Jay as her partner.

Slowly, she began to panic. The one thing she was feeling really confident about was no longer. She didn't know anything about her new team, how they operated. She knew Hank... so pretty much knew how they operated... but still.

Hank sensed her uneasiness. "Listen, kid." He walked over to sit next to her, the sun streaming in through the window shades and momentarily blinding him as he walked towards her. "When you do come back," He hadn't decided if it would be Monday, but she would come back to her team, to him. That he knew. "You'll be on desk duty until you feel comfortable." He reached out and placed a loving hand on her shoulder, like had done countless times before, urging her to relax. "And I'll be there."

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"Ready to go?" Jay walked into Erin's room after speaking to the nurse and signing the discharge paperwork. "Voight and Sophie are at-" He stopped speaking when he finally looked up from the paperwork and saw Erin. She was standing in the corner, crouching down slightly and using her hospital gown as a shield to hide her naked body. What the hell?

"I was... uh... just getting changed to leave." Erin stuttered by way of explanation. She had heard him come through the door and had instinctively bent down and covered up.

Shit. Of course she didn't want to change in front of him. She didn't even know him. "Uh... yeah." His eyes immediately turned to the floor, looking away from her bare shoulders that were peeking out behind the hospital gown. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..." Walk in on my wife changing? He wasn't sure how to finish that sentence, it sounded too ridiculous. "I'll let you get dressed." He turned and walked out of the room, embarrassed.

He needed to keep reminding himself that this Erin... she wasn't his wife. She wasn't Sophie's mother. She was a 23 year old brand new detective. An unattached 23 year old brand new detective.

God, this was so hard. Harder than he would've ever expected. Because she looked like her, smiled like her, even bantered with him like her.

He and Erin weren't one of those married couples that changed when they got married. Other couples flirted less, smiled less, cared less... but that had never been them. Even when they became parents, the romance never left them. If anything, it strengthened their connection and made him want her more. When she smirked at him across the bullpen at work, it never failed to stir his insides. When he helped her put on her vest and slid his fingers slowly across her neck, it still gave her chills. When she walked into their bedroom wearing only his t-shirt... it made him feel like a teenager.

It would be easier if they had changed. Because then this Erin... with her smirks, and her smiles, with her raspy voice and sexy laugh.. She wouldn't remind him of his wife. But she did.

Suddenly, Erin appeared at the doorway, interrupting his thoughts. "I'm ready."

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The car ride was silent... and not in a good way. The awkward encounter in the hospital room had left Erin embarrassed and uncomfortable. Of course he would walk in when she was changing, he was her husband. Except she didn't feel like he was her husband.

She had thought everything was going well. She was still anxious about Jay being her husband, but if she was being honest, her main source of nerves and discomfort had surrounded Sophie. She had instantly felt connected to Jay. She felt comfortable with him, and she had felt a spark. But as she found herself cowering in the corner, she realized that a spark and a connection... those were things you felt when you were first dating someone. When it was all hot and exciting, finding out about each other, exploring each other's minds and bodies.

But they weren't dating. They were married. He knew her, he already knew her mind... and body.

And she knew nothing about him.

Jay pulled up to a familiar house, and Erin gave him a questioning look. "I thought you were taking me home?" Home. She didn't even know what that meant. Last she remembered, she had moved out of Hank's and was living in an apartment. She had know idea where she even lived with Jay and Sophie.

"We have to pick up Sophie." He explained, as he began to unbuckle and get out of the car. "And Hank is making dinner." Jay and Erin had been having family dinners with Hank on Saturday evening for years, even before Sophie came along. When Erin had first invited him, they'd only been dating 6 months. He had been so nervous he changed his outfit three times, something he had never done before. It had been weird seeing Hank outside of work and despite all of Erin's efforts to make him relax, Jay had been anxious throughout the entire dinner. Over the years, it had gotten easier, and he had even begun enjoying his time there. And when Sophie came along, he and Erin had loved watching Hank settle into his role as the doting grandfather.

As they ascended the stairs to Hank's house, Jay removed a key from his pocket. She looked at him questioningly as he inserted the key into the lock, "Cause I'm special... that's why." He said, smirking up at her.

Erin stared at him, an even deeper look of confusion gracing her face. His joke fell flat. Of course it did, he thought. She doesn't remember.

Before he could explain the reference, Sophie ran towards them. "Mama!" She shouted, throwing herself in Erin's arms once again.

This time, Erin had been ready for her. "Hi, princess."

At the word princess, Jay's ears perked up. Erin never called Sophie that. She even gave Jay a hard time when he called her that... which he did several times daily. I don't want her to think she is a spoiled princess, Erin would say. Erin she's not even two. I'm thinking it's okay. He would respond with a wink.

She was surprised by her word choice, as well. But it has slipped out and with it, Sophie gave her a huge smile. She kissed the adorable toddler on the forehead, inhaling deeply, willing her scent to evoke some sort of recognition or memory. Nope, she thought disappointedly.

"Grandpa is making chili!" Sophie told her mother excitedly.

"He is?" Erin responded, mirroring her daughter's enthusiasm. With all the worrying she had done all day, this felt pretty okay, natural even. She smiled to herself, and carried Sophie into the kitchen. "Hey Hank," she spotted him standing over the stove.

He smiled at the scene, the way Erin rested Sophie on her hip so naturally. He chose not to acknowledge it, not wanting to make Erin uncomfortable. Twenty-three year old Erin still shut down on occasion, and he wanted to tread lightly. Instead, he spoke to Sophie. "So that's where my little helper went."

"I brought mommy to help too!" Sophie said, signaling for Hank to pick her up.

Hank lifted her from Erin's arms and stood her up on the chair that was stationed next to the stove, her designated 'helper spot'. "I think it needs a few more stirs, Soph."

Sophie stirred the chili a few more times, while Jay began to set the table. Erin watched the domestic scene, feeling momentarily disconnected from it all. She was on the other side of a glass wall, and she couldn't cross it. She watched as Jay removed plates and glasses from the cupboard, as if it was his own home. She watched Hank bending over and laughing with the young blonde Sophie, while he offered her a taste. They seemed like such a family. And she wasn't sure where she fit.

She shook the feeling off, and willed herself to join the group.

As they got ready to sit down at the table, Jay went to lift Sophie to put her in her high chair. "I want Mommy to do it!" She shouted, evading Jay's hands. "I want Mommy! I want Mommy! I want Mommy!"

Erin was taken aback by her shouts, the volume rising and growing more hysterical with each word. It wasn't the fact that she was shouting. It was her tone. She sounded so desperate for her mother's attention, and she immediately recognized the desperation in her voice. But it wasn't a memory of Sophie... it was from her own childhood. How many times had she screamed like that for her mother. How many times had she begged her mother to pay attention to her, to wake up, to come home... How many social workers had she begged using those exact words.

For some reason, she couldn't move. The glass wall had risen once again, and she couldn't get through it. She couldn't be what her daughter needed. Maybe the sooner she realized that, the easier it would be for all of them.

Jay had been expecting Erin to walk over, put Sophie in the highchair. She had carried Sophie into the kitchen, after all. But she didn't move. Her face drained of color and her eyes grew vacant. He had no idea where her mind was, but she was not having a happy memory - of that he was certain.

"Sophie Camille." He said sternly, "If you want chili, I am putting you in your high chair."

Sophie Camille. Erin heard the name, and she shivered. Tears filled her eyes, but she reflexively brushed them away. Her gaze remained locked on the floor, and she was still unable to move her feet.

"I want Mommy to do it!" Sophie was near hysterical now. Jay didn't know what to do. Sophie was too young. She couldn't understand why her mother was standing less than five feet away from her but wasn't looking in her direction, wasn't answering to being called. Erin never didn't answer her daughter.

Hank reached out and gently touched Erin's shoulder. He had seen the tears in her eyes when Jay spoke Sophie's middle name. He wasn't sure what was going on with her in that moment... but hearing Camille's name probably didn't help. He urged Erin to step forward.

She did. With Hank giving her strength, she walked towards her daughter and lifted her up. She kissed her on the forehead, mimicking the fatherly gesture Hank used on her hundreds of times when she was a teenager, and tried to calm her down. It worked, and she put Sophie down in the high chair.

Children had short memories, and the minute Jay placed a bowl of chili in front of Sophie, she chatted animatedly and the conversation at dinner flowed easily.

Erin didn't have the luxury of a short memory. She could still hear Sophie yelling "I want Mommy," hysterically, in her head. She tried to listen and engage in the dinner conversation, but Sophie's words continued on repeat.

Towards the end of dinner, Sophie began to yawn and slowly her eyes drifted closed as she rested her head against the top of the high chair.

"I think it's time I get my girls home," Jay said to Hank, slowly standing from the chair and gathering the bowls to bring them to the sink.

"Uh... if it's okay with you..." Erin's raspy voice was quiet, and she stuttered through the words. "I think I... uh... should stay with Hank." She watched Jay as he turned back to face her, his face crestfallen, and she quickly added, "Just for a little while."

Jay turned bak to the sink, and turned on the tap, allowing the chili bowls to fill. My girls, he had said. He had been deluding himself, thinking she was still his.

She wasn't his. She wasn't Erin Halstead.

She was Erin Lindsay. What had people called her when they first met? Voight's girl. She had a reputation for being independent, carefree, and a fearless detective that was loyal to one person, and one person only.

He drained and cleaned the bowls, not turning around. He waited for Voight to speak up, to encourage her to go home with him. He waited for Erin to say she changed her mind. But by the time the bowls were cleaned and dried, no one had spoken a word.

So without speaking a word himself, he turned and picked up Sophie from the hight chair. Still asleep, she slumped into his arms. He slid her coat around her, careful not to wake her.

And then, without another glance at Hank or Erin, he left.

xoxo