Time seems to fly by when your days are consumed with catching a serial killer –especially one who is calculating and is most likely progressing with every day that passes. It has been two weeks since their double all-nighter. A little over three weeks since Detective West joined their unit. The Intelligence unit was handed this case almost four full weeks ago, yet they're just as stuck as the detectives who was initially investigating this case. Voight's detectives had been running all over the city with their metaphorical heads chopped off in search of some type of lead no matter how small. They needed something to get them from point A to point B; they needed something to at least lead them into bringing a suspect in. They were nowhere and it was frightening. How is Voight supposed to go in front of reporters and their cameramen and tell the city that they're safe when he wasn't sure? He didn't believe anyone was safe, but he didn't want to deliver fear and terror to the people of Chicago; he just wanted them to be vigilant, and if they saw something, he wanted them to say something. That was his message.
Voight backed away from the microphones and turned to walk back into the precinct. It was a last minute afternoon press conference. There was no description he could provide the public, but he did send out a cautionary warning to the city. Sergeant Platt walked alongside him back into the building, and before opening the door, he turned to face her, "How do you think that went?"
"I think you did your best with the information you had," she assured and gave him a nod of the head when he opened the door for her to enter first.
"We really need something," Hank replied, following behind her up the precinct's stairs, "He has managed to evade police for who knows how long –Mouse has been looking into the sticky note Erin left. If Mouse manages to find out that the four women in Chicago weren't his first victims, and he's been ducking police for years, then we definitely have a problem, a mastermind and career criminal on our hands."
"We're going to nail this bastard."
"I hope you're right."
Platt buzzes him upstairs, "I'm always right sergeant."
Hank walks up the stairs and finds comfort in seeing all of his detectives working. Mouse has dedicated his time into looking into the information Erin left on a sticky note. He has every intention of going back to combing through the surveillance, but he wants to make sure their perpetrator hasn't struck in another state first, because if he did, they can contact that city's police to see if they have something they're missing. They can request for those case files to be faxed to them, and looking into those files would give the other detectives something to do while Mouse goes back to searching through the horribly filmed surveillance videos. The remainder of the team has spoken with the victims' family and friends countless amount of times, and neither conversation led them anywhere closer to the truth. All they could do is wait –wait for Mouse to find something. And there's nothing worse than waiting and having nothing to do while there's a serial killer on the loose.
Voight silently walked through the aisle of the unit's workplace in his quest to approach Halstead's desk. The younger detective was leant back in his swivel chair –texting most likely Erin on his cell phone. She hasn't been into work for a week. Hank would frequently call her, but since they have gotten nowhere in their investigation, he hadn't had the time to visit. Most of his time had been focused and spent solely on the investigation and the press –the reporters had a way of hackling the unit in search of news to tell the public. They were looking for the next great story or plot twist to tell while being completely oblivious to the dangers that arise by popularizing the killer. Since being handed the case, Voight was busy doing damage control.
"Erin is still not feeling good?" Hank asks, leaning against the side of Halstead's desk, "I'm starting to get a little worried; this is not like her to miss work, even when she's sick. I usually have to order her to leave this place…maybe it's worse than we thought. Where is she?"
"She had a doctor's appointment early this morning; I offered to go with her, she declined. I'm actually waiting for a text from her, she was done at the doctor's hours ago," Jay explained, setting his phone down, "Last night she told me the nausea was a little better; it's not completely gone, but she isn't vomiting every day. She's still fatigued and a little cranky, but she's usually cranky when she's not feeling good so that's nothing new."
Voight smirked after slightly chuckling at Jay's last comment, "When you get into contact with her, tell her to call me."
"You can tell her yourself," Jay whispered, rising from his seat, "she's here."
Hank turns around and finds himself surprised; he's surprised to see Erin here at work, smiling, holding two boxes of pizza in her hands. She sets the pizza boxes down on the edge of Mouse's desk, "Hi everyone; I brought lunch. Dig in." It was all Erin needed to say before the majority of the unit rushed towards the fresh and hot Chicago style pizza.
Voight walks over to her, "What are you doing here?"
"I came to finish helping out with the case," she replied, reaching over Kim's shoulder to grab herself a slice of pizza, "Burgess has been keeping me up-to-date on the investigation. I know we haven't made much progress."
Hank side eyed his newest detective, "What did she tell you?" His arms crossed over his chest as Kim backed away and went to go eat her pizza in the breakroom.
"She went back undercover at the nightclub this whole week and you all went in as backup so she wasn't inside alone. Kim talked to a few men and some other men bought her some drinks, but nothing came of it. It was just regular men hitting on a beautiful woman."
Erin takes a bite of the slice of pizza; a few drops of tomato sauce sprinkled onto the side of her mouth, "oh my gosh this pizza is amazing," she reaches over the boxes and the second her hand touches the top napkin, another hand brushes upon hers. Her eyes glance up and are met with the brown eyes of Detective West –he's smiling at her and when he winks, she pulls her hand away. The act of grabbing a napkin was completely forgotten along with the two small sprinkles of tomato sauce against the corners of her mouth.
West and Lindsay remain oblivious to Halstead's glaring gaze. Tyler simply grabs a napkin and holds it out to her, she chuckles as she takes a hold of it and dabs it against the food participles, "This is embarrassing."
"Don't be," he pats her shoulder before turning to face Mouse, "any updates?"
Her eyes stare down at her shoulder; his hand slowly pulling away from her, and they lose contact within seconds. Her half-eaten slice of pizza rests in her used and wrinkled napkin, and before she can either listen in to what Mouse has to say or sarcastically comment on his hand being on her shoulder a little too long, she feels her hand being grabbed and her body gently pulled off to the side.
"I don't want to argue with you at work," Jay whispers into her ear; the couple standing in between file cabinets, talking low amongst themselves to ensure the team didn't hear.
"…then don't."
"We talked about this last night."
"No," she says through gritted teeth, "you talked about it; more like yelled about it, and I couldn't get a word in."
Jay brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, "I don't like him touching you." Even when they're arguing, they still manage to unintentionally find themselves doing little brushes of the hand, caresses of the face and the occasional strand of hair being pushed behind the ear, "it isn't a coincidence that he reached for a napkin the same time as you, and he didn't even end up getting one. He gave you the one he grabbed." His hand remained against the side of her cheek.
"It was an accident – a mere brush of the hand that was unintentional."
"What about the shoulder touch?"
Erin squints at him in disbelief, "You're kidding me, right? Jay, you're being ridiculous."
"Our rate of arguing has increased since he came into the picture."
"No, it increased since you started acting like a jealous idiot."
He draws his hand away, "At home, we're fine. We hardly ever argue. It's here when there's trouble. It's here because he's here. Ever since you met him three weeks ago, things haven't been the same. You can't stand there and pretend like they have."
"Tyler likes me, yes, I agree, but what do you want me to do?" Erin exclaims, throwing her hands into the air; her voice reached a higher pitch, but it was still low enough to guarantee her coworkers didn't hear, "We have to work with him until this case is over. I'm not seeing him behind your back. I'm not sleeping with him. Nothing is going on between us. Jay, you have to trust me! I don't see him like that. I'm married to you. I'm loyal to you. I love you," she steps back and runs her hand down her face, "So stop acting jealous Jay, it can destroy. Just cut it out."
"I can't just cut it out!" His voice is loud; he forgets to control the pitch. It draws in curious glances and side-eyes from their coworkers.
She steps back to make sure no one is paying attention. After assuring herself that everyone was too engrossed either in the investigation or eating pizza, she steps forward –hiding herself and her husband between the two file cabinets, "Are we legit doing this right now with our coworkers' feet away eating pizza?" Her arms cross as she makes her point.
Every day that she stayed home due to her nausea, was another day that Tyler would ask –more like pester- Jay out of worry for Erin's health. It was the metaphorical straw that broke the camel's back because every day that Jay came home from being hounded by Tyler's concern for his wife sparked another argument to brew between them the second he would walk through the front door. The three weeks since they met him had been rough. Without him even knowing, they've argued more the past few days than they did all of last year. He was the main subject of conversation –if Erin brought him up Jay would get mad, so Erin settled on never being the one to mention him. Now as they stand, hidden between two rows of file cabinets, their home arguments have obviously trickled into their work life. This wasn't a conversation to have here. This was a conversation to continue when they're at home –away from the prying eyes and nosey ears. This was a conversation to have when Tyler was far away from Jay's presence. He and Tyler have barely spoken any words to each other since their first introduction, but Tyler's name had been uttered out of Jay's mouth more times than he would like to admit.
"Fine, you're right," Jay sighs, giving in immediately; he didn't want to argue about it here either –not when it's a possibility that someone, more specifically Tyler, could overhear; he didn't want the man to have the satisfaction in knowing that it was him who is the subject of their argument, "we'll save this conversation for later, how was your doctor's appointment? What did the doctor say?" It was his attempt to change the topic of discussion.
"I don't want to talk about it here; not now; not when you're like this," Without another word and another glance in his direction, she walks away.
Detective West hears Erin's name being called; he watches her deliberately ignore her husband. When she walked in, she was smiling –beaming from ear to ear, but after speaking privately with her husband, any hints of the smile that was once plastered across her face was gone. No one besides Tyler was paying any attention as she stormed back into the bullpen, grabbed her empty water bottle and disappeared down the hall to refill it. Against his better judgment, he sets his empty napkin down –he initially grabbed it with the intention of taking a slice of pizza, but when Erin and Jay disappeared, his curiosity got the best of him and the pizza and his current growling stomach became an afterthought. His napkin forgotten, the thought of pizza was at the back of his mind and the occasional growl in his stomach overlooked as he followed her.
Tyler turned the corner to see Erin relentlessly, hardly and consistently hitting against the water fountain button –her face is hard as she patiently waits for her water bottle to fill up. She doesn't notice him standing feet away. He's nervous –he has never in his life been nervous about approaching someone. He taps the side of his head; he's thinking about what to say as he cautiously approach her, "How was the doctor's visit?"
She releases the fountain's button, "Is that really any of your business?" Erin turns around to face him, her back leaning against the water fountain.
"We're friends," he reminds.
Erin turns back to resume filling her water bottle back up, "We're not friends; we're…temporary coworkers. That's all."
"I'm going to pretend like that didn't hurt," Tyler chuckles to lighten the mood as he takes his hand and jokingly covers his heart, "How did you spend your time off –besides resting, recuperating and ignoring my phone calls?"
"Online shopping,"
"Why didn't you go out to the mall? Get some of that fresh air you like so much."
"Because apparently it's socially unacceptable to be in a mall with no bra, sweatpants and a nice, hot slice of pizza in your hand," she retorts; once she finishes filling up her water bottle, she takes a sip before screwing the cap back on.
He hadn't spoken to Erin in a whole week; their last conversation was the night he dropped her off at home. His calls she sent to voicemail. He talked himself out of visiting. He chose to just be patient and wait for her to return, and now that she's back, he finds their conversation lacking the flow it once had all the first two weeks. She's looking at him –knowing he wants to say something, but lacking the courage to do so. Tyler looks over her shoulder to meet her husband's eyes; he was about to walk into the breakroom when he spotted Tyler. He didn't want to act out, especially after his earlier disagreement with her. Jay struggled to wipe the glare and frustration off his face; he didn't want to be one of those husbands. He didn't want to be the territorial husband that wouldn't allow his wife to talk to other men. He trusted her. He needed to remind himself of that –he may not trust Tyler when it comes to his feelings for Erin, but he trusted her. That was important. That was the reason he was able to blink the glare out of his eyes and continue on into the breakroom without doubting his wife and whatever she's saying in response to the bullshit that's most likely spewing out of Tyler's mouth.
"If looks could kill, I would be dead," Tyler joked, playing off the look he was given, "Your husband just glared at me. What did I do?"
"You keep hitting on his wife; what do you expect him to do?" Erin responds; she chose to tell him the truth because she was never the one to lie, especially if it would do more harm than good. He had been the subject of countless arguments between she and her husband; Tyler really needed to stop, "You should be lucky he's not kicking your ass."
"Your husband hates me."
"He doesn't hate you," Erin remarked, unscrewing the cap of her water bottle, "He doesn't particularly like you, but he doesn't hate you. That's a strong word." She takes a small sip.
"Erin, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to see that he hates me –absolutely despises me."
"Well, look at it the way I look at people who highly dislike me. The more people who hate you, the less people you have to please."
Tyler shrugs and maneuvers himself beside Erin to lean forward and take a sip of water from the fountain. It splashes against his lips and droplets trickle down his chin. He takes the back of his hand and wipes it across his mouth, "I could only wish to adopt your way of looking at life," he smiles; the corners of his mouth piercing in.
"It didn't come easy," she admits, while running her free hand through her shoulder-length hair, "I didn't have the best childhood."
"I didn't have the best life; well I don't have the best life. It's not past tense; it's present."
"Your life can't be that bad."
"Want to bet?" He responds, holding out his pinky, waiting for hers to wrap around it, "I grew up being bounced from foster home to foster home."
She doesn't offer her pinky as a seal to the bet, "Are we seriously comparing childhoods?"
"I knew your life wasn't that bad."
"My dad is in prison."
"Voight isn't your-"
"…for all intents and purposes he is; he and his wife took me in and raised me as a kid." She answers his question before he has a chance to fully pose it.
"I was in and out of juvie when I was a kid."
"I did drugs."
"I sold them," he retorted.
"I covered up a crime."
"I committed one."
This does spark her curiosity, "What kind of crime?" Both of her hands are wrapped around her water bottle and her head tilts to the side in interest.
"That's a story for another day Mrs. Halstead," he says her married name in mockery.
"What?" She rolls her eyes in nonchalance –overlooking his obvious sarcasm he used when saying her married last name, "Did you drive over the speed limit?"
"Nice try," he responds, patting her shoulder, "You're a detective Erin, I'm pretty sure you'll figure it out," his hand slowly slides down her arm and when his hand brushes against hers, she pulls back, "Now, are you going to continue or admit that my life sucks?"
"My mom is and has always been an addict; you name it, she probably was and is still addicted to it," Erin continues; overlooking his flirtatious gesture in her quest to beat him at his own twisted idea of a bet –even though neither had anything to lose, they never expanded on the bet.
"My parents died –they were murdered."
"I'm sorry." All playfulness, sarcasm and any hints of mockery were gone from her voice. This wasn't how she expected this conversation to go. This time, it was her who placed her hand reassuringly on his shoulder, "I'm so sorry Tyler."
"They were abusive assholes."
She drops her hand, "…I'm still sorry."
"I guess I win."
There's a frown on her face, "It shouldn't be a competition." The frown line creased into her forehead deepens when he shrugs off her sadness for him.
"Don't feel bad for me," He responds; his arm flings around her and pats her back –it's a friendly gesture, "Everything that happened to me led me to this moment, right here, right now, with you." She didn't expect to smile or laugh, but she did. He was obviously confident in his ability to sweep her off her feet. Erin steps out of his reach when she sees Jay exit the breakroom, coffee in hand and a scowl across his face. She's about to walk towards him, but she immediately chooses against it. She chose to end the conversation last time because it wasn't the right time, now isn't the right time either. Erin tunes back into the conversation to hear Tyler whisper, "You should smile more; it looks really good on you."
"Only you can manage to flirt after divulging the traumas from your childhood."
"What can I say? I'm a man of mystery."
"That you are," she agrees; Erin is talking to Tyler, but her eyes are on Jay as he talks with Burgess, "You're definitely a mystery and I'm not sure whether I like it or not. It's creepy, eerie, but it definitely has me curious. You're one strange fellow."
"Ouch."
"It's the truth," she laughs, holding her hands up in admittance, "The truth won't always be nice, but it's still the truth. And I'm certainly going to figure you out."
"That's why I'm here; I'm counting on it."
"Nice conversation we had," Erin responds, straightening up the second she sees Jay make his way towards them, "now Tyler, there's pizza out there and if it's one thing about those guys is they will inhale all of it in a matter of seconds. I suggest you go eat some."
He squeezes her shoulder once more giving in the second his stomach growls and betrays him, "See you back in there."
The smile on her face falters as she realizes Jay noticed the shoulder squeeze. She wasn't necessarily trying to hide the fact that he did it –he touched her- again, she just didn't feel like arguing with her husband about a man who was neither her husband nor a threat to their marriage. Tyler is gone. Her water bottle is almost empty; she had been subconsciously drinking it as she watched her husband walk over. She wasn't trying to hurt him or prove a point. She wasn't trying to make him jealous. She was just trying to be civil with a coworker. If Ruzek, Dawson or Atwater touched her shoulder, he wouldn't even bat an eye, but the second Tyler so much as looks her way, he automatically gets on the defensive.
"You two seem pretty chummy," he sounds normal; Jay doesn't sound upset. His hands are in his front pockets and he rocks back and forth on his feet as she turns to fill up her water bottle.
"He's not that bad. I judged him before really getting to know him."
"And you know him now?" He asks inquisitively; a gust of air leaves his mouth as a hitch of laughter pokes through the second she nods, "He's been here for three weeks. Erin you haven't even been here for this whole third week, how did you get to know him so well?"
She opened her mouth –prepared to speak and tell him about Tyler taking her home the night she had a flat tire, however Voight's booming voice called out her name. She sighs, sets her hand on his shoulder and slid her fingers up to the back of his neck. Her soft fingers gently tangled in his brunette locks as she eased her forehead against his.
They remain like that –even when Voight calls out her name again. Neither move. Erin's eyes are closed as their foreheads continue to press against the other, and her heart fluttered sending a chill through her body as her lips tingled the moment his pressed against hers. She allowed him to kiss her at his own speed – gentle, steady, calm and unrushed. Neither was in a hurry even though Voight was currently in the bullpen calling her name. As their lips tenderly moved and molded together, her fingers came undone from his hair and they soon found themselves cupping his face. This was the man she fell in love with; this was the man she married. He was her partner, her best friend, her lover and her husband. He was her world; he wasn't the jealous, territorial type, he was the loving, compassionate and gentle person that she devoted herself to six years ago.
Jay quietly moaned at the gesture as his arms wrapped around her waist; he flushed her body against his. Tyler may have been the cause of their frequent arguments, but the benefit of arguing was the inevitable makeup. He had no intention of stopping anytime soon. He had felt it was no need until Mouse is able to find something they can use. Halstead stumbled back –out of breath and gasping for air. Erin is smiling as her hand grips her hair from the back, "Sorry, we'll finish this later," she nods her head in the direction of the bullpen, "If I don't go now, he's going to come looking for me and the last thing we want is to be caught making out." Erin drew back, and stepped backwards away from Halstead.
"What's up?" Erin practically almost ran into Voight in her haste to approach him; he didn't like to be kept waiting for long periods of time.
"Platt wants to see you downstairs."
Erin sets her water bottle down onto her desk before scrambling out of the bullpen. She noticed the two empty boxes of pizza stuffed into the nearby trashcan while most of the team used their fingers or floss to pick food out of their teeth. The luxuries of working with guys…the sarcasm was evident in her thoughts. Erin is downstairs, and Platt is waiting for her on the other side of the gate. The sergeant's face is unreadable; her hands are in her pockets and she's tapping her foot impatiently waiting for Erin.
"Voight said-"
"Follow me," Platt interrupted, leading the younger detective into the locker room. Lindsay doesn't argue or question the sergeant's odd behavior; she knows she'll eventually have answers soon. And once she shuts the door behind Erin, Platt pulls her hand out of her pocket and extends a ring box towards her. When Erin finds herself hesitant to take it, the sergeant grabs her hand and sets the jewelry box down inside it.
"Sergeant, I'm flattered-" Lindsay blushes, staring down at the velvety dark blue box.
Trudy shakes her head and interrupts, "I didn't buy it for you." She watches as Erin opens the box and notices the wide, amazed and confused look in her eyes as they beamed down at the small piece of jewelry, "It was delivered here, no note attached. You're 'I'm not having an affair lover' must have bought it for you."
"Who? Tyler?"
"You're having an affair with the new detective."
"What? No!"
Platt crosses her arms and leans against the nearby lockers, "You said his name, not me. How do you know this is from him then?"
"He's the one who bought me the flowers."
"Erin, this is jewelry;" Platt chuckles, eyeing the antique ring, "a pretty old looking ring –vintage looking- and it looks real." She averts her eyes back to Erin, "It's far from flowers."
"You're right." She shuts the box and extends it back to Platt; she didn't want it.
"Why did he buy you flowers?"
"…a friendly gesture."
Platt takes the ring back, "None of my friends send me flowers."
"Is there anything else you need me for sergeant?" Erin didn't want to continue talking about this. This wasn't supposed to be her main subject of the day. She came here to work. She came here to help out with the case, regardless of the occasional nausea she's feeling.
Trudy pats her shoulder, "You know I don't judge you Erin."
"I'm not having an affair."
"Lindsay-"
She pushes Platt's hand off her shoulder, "I'm not having an affair sergeant! And I find it a little insulting that you keep thinking I am!"
Erin and Trudy had mutual admiration for one another. She respected Platt and Platt respected her, especially after hearing everything Lindsay overcame as a child to get her to where she is today. The two women supported one another; they were friends. Platt was like a mother to her. She gave Erin advice when needed, she spoke her mind and told her things that she may not have wanted to know –she did it all for Erin's best interest. The sergeant bites the inside of her cheek; she's ready to hug Lindsay, but she hears someone clear their throat and stumble back.
"Burgess, what are you doing?" Platt questions as she and Erin turn to face the detective. She's embarrassed. She tried to sneak back out the second she overheard a conversation she wasn't supposed to hear. Kim felt her stomach drop as she looked back and forth between them and the door. Her hands fumbled with the fabric at the bottom of her shirt, "I'm so sorry."
"Kim, get back here," Erin calls out the second Burgess tries to race out the door, "I promise you. It's not what you think."
"I didn't hear anything," Burgess offers her a smile, both of her hands in the air as she attempts to assure her friend that what was said, she didn't listen to and focus on.
"I'm not cheating on my husband."
Kim lowered her hands and shook her head, "It's none of my business."
"West and I are just friends," Erin attempted to explain.
"I believe you."
"Why don't I believe you?"
"…maybe because you don't believe yourself?" Kim offered the possibility that Erin truly didn't want to hear. Burgess stepped closer; she's finally relaxed given that Platt and Lindsay weren't stupid and clearly knew that she heard most of their conversation. They happened to be too focused on the conversation to hear Burgess come in. In order to avoid further interruptions, Platt walked over to the door and locked it, "Erin," Platt turns to face her; her back leant against the sealed door, "it's normal for marriages to shake. My advice would be to talk to Jay."
"Nothing is going on between me and Tyler."
"…then what's with the flowers?" Platt retorted as Burgess silently looked back and forth between them as if she were watching a tennis match. Her head bobbed from the right to the left, side to side depending on who's currently speaking.
"He has a schoolboy crush and I nipped it in the bud." Erin exclaims, beginning to pace the small aisle between the two rows of lockers, "It won't happen again," she asserts, her hand going behind her back to grip her wrist, "I'm going to take the ring to him. I'll ask did he send it and if he did, I'll tell him to send it back…and I'll tell Jay, but if he didn't send it, it's no point telling my husband; he'll get upset for no reason, and since Tyler has been here, he's already been acting odd. Jay and I left things on a good note; I want to keep it that way."
"If you were my wife, I would want to know," Kim whispers, stepping back the second Erin stops pacing.
"Sometimes ignorance is bliss."
"…and sometimes, it isn't."
"I'm going to talk to Tyler and depending on how that conversation goes determines whether or not I'll tell Halstead," Erin's not so sure about this either, but it's the best thing she can think of. She extends her hand to Platt and sighs thankfully when the sergeant sets the jewelry box back into her hand. She appreciated the lack of argument coming from Trudy; she's usually Erin's voice of reason or rebuttal.
"Okay," Kim raises her hand, "but for the record, I think this is a bad idea."
"Burgess, you're my friend –one of my closest friends."
"Yeah," Kim smiles, feeling exactly the same way; the feeling was definitely mutual.
"Support me. Trust me."
"I am. I do. Don't get me wrong, I'm down for whatever you decide to do, but also as your friend, I have to tell you when I disagree with it."
"I just wish the answer was more obvious."
"Let's change the conversation…" Platt steps up; she can tell Erin needed the break, and the second she saw Lindsay sit down on the bench and cover her queasy stomach with one hand, she took a seat next to her, "How was your doctor's appointment? No offense, but we placed some bets around here. What did you have?"
"It's not past tense; I still have it," Erin mumbled, instantly regretting the moment she decided to eat half of that slice of pizza.
"Stomach virus? Flu? Food poisoning?" Burgess listed off; she was a part of the bet with Platt and a few other members of the team, "It's not something serious is it?"
"I'm pretty sure she would tell us if it is, right detective?"
"I'm pregnant."
It was like ripping off a band-aid. You do it –or in this case, you say it- to get it over with. The words felt foreign. They stung a little bit. It was the first time the words came from her mouth and she honestly didn't know how that made her feel. Erin's arms rest over her knees, and her hands are clasped as she continues sitting on the bench. She's purposely avoiding eye contact. She can feel both of their eyes seeping into her as they noticeably stare. The back of her hand is used to wipe below her nose as Platt finally looks away to glance at Burgess, "I called it!" Trudy is smiling from ear to ear, either at Erin's news or the fact that she won the bet, "Burgess pay up. Give me my money."
"Wait." Erin asserts, looking up through her watery eyes, "You suspected this?"
"Yeah; it was a little obvious." Platt happily accepted the cash from Burgess as she shrugged off her reply. She knew about everything going on inside the precinct; this was just another thing that she picked up on and knew about before Erin had the chance of finding out.
"…not for me," Erin glances back down at the tiled floor.
"Me either," Burgess adds; she says it in an attempt to cheer Lindsay up, "I thought you had a stomach virus; I was actually pretty positive it was a stomach virus."
"All of them bathroom runs, you were either puking or constantly peeing, either way, it's a sign. You can hardly keep anything down, not to mention you can barely tolerate the smell." Platt begins explaining; she's listing off the dead giveaways that supported Platt's once untested prediction, "You were really fatigued, but I just assumed that had to do with the double all-nighter you guys pulled last week, I didn't put much thought into that symptom." She smiled and turned Erin to face her –tugging onto her cheek in an attempt to cheer her up, "You also gained a little weight in the face."
"I have?" Erin's hands fly to cover her face, "No one said anything to me."
"…because no one wanted to be killed," Platt admitted, patting Erin's thigh, "It's not huge weight gain. It's barely noticeable. It's just noticeable for anyone looking to prove their pregnancy theory. You're just a little full in the face." Her eyes scanned from Erin's face down towards her tummy, "How far along are you?"
Erin wipes the dry skin beneath her eyes –fearing tears have fallen and rested there, "…three weeks," she disclosed, looking back and forth between Trudy and Kim, "conception had to be around the time we went undercover at the nightclub. We're usually really careful, but after being undercover trying to woo Tyler, Jay had gotten a little jealous and he was so hot and-"
Platt raised her hand, "We don't need the details. You can spare us."
"I've gotten a little bit better." Erin admitted, subconsciously sliding her hand across her nonexistent bump, "The doctor said when I'm in the second trimester the symptoms usually subside. I just have ten more weeks to go before the end of my first trimester."
Burgess took a seat on the opposite side of Lindsay; she tossed one arm around her closest friend and pulled her as close to her as possible. Erin's head leaned against Kim's shoulder as Kim gently and comfortingly rubbed her arm, "Does Jay know?"
Erin lifts her head and looks at Burgess, "I haven't had a chance to tell him yet. He keeps acting like a jealous idiot. It makes it a little hard. And I've only known since this morning. I had a doctor's appointment earlier this week that Jay didn't know about and when the doctor drew blood and said he was going to run tests, I started suspecting it, but I didn't know for sure until this morning at my follow-up appointment. You guys are the first people I've told."
Platt asks, "When are you going to tell him?"
"When he gets his act together…" Erin shrugs and blows out her answer.
"He has a limited amount of time before he figures it out for himself." Platt remarks, patting the lower portion of Lindsay's belly, "You're shaping Erin."
"We should head back to work." Lindsay announces, gently pushing Platt's hand away before rising to her feet, "We have important work to do." She felt the bulge of the jewelry box in her pocket, reminding her of the other important conversation she should be having soon.
"Make sure you tell Voight," Platt called out as Kim and Erin made their way towards the exit.
"I will tell him after I tell Jay." Erin shouted over her shoulder before walking out of the locker room with Burgess trailing closely behind. The two walked in silence through the gate and back up the stairs; once arriving, the curious glances of the team fell onto them, to which Erin deliberately overlooked.
Lindsay doesn't see Jay –he must be in the office with Voight and Olinsky. Mouse is on the phone having an important conversation over some type of case files. Whatever it is, she's sure she'll hear about it soon if it involves their case. Erin scans the bullpen, and spots Tyler walking into the breakroom. She pulls the jewelry box from her pocket and begins storming towards his retreating figure, "Tyler," she asserts, stepping into the breakroom and cracking the door behind her, "Did you get me this?" Lindsay opens the box and sets it down on the counter in front of him. His surprised eyes fall onto the sparkling rock in the center of the ring. His eyes eventually avert towards her to take in her mood –she's upset, she's practically fuming; her foot is rhythmically tapping on the tiled floor and her hands are pressed against her hips.
"I didn't buy that," he affirmed, reaching for a mug in the overhead cabinet, "I got you flowers over two weeks ago which you threw out. Why would I buy you a ring? I like you Erin, but I'm not an idiot. I don't just blow through money. I didn't buy that."
The anger fades from her face; she was ready to rip his head off if he bought her that ring. She felt stupid. She picked up the jewelry box and silently watched him pour himself a mug of coffee, "I apologize."
"You really want me to be the bad guy."
"No I don't. I'm just," she cuts herself off as she thinks about the appropriate response, "I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions. I didn't think you bought it for me. You're not that stupid," both detectives smile at her insult, "I'm sorry."
Tyler pours cream into his coffee, "It's alright. Next time, just use those detective skills." He grabs the nearest spoon and mixes his drink, "Coffee?"
"No thanks," she declines the offer even though she could in fact use a cup; she was pregnant and the doctor said no coffee, "It's a vintage ring. Who could have possibly sent it to me then?"
"Like I said Detective Lindsay," Tyler brings the cup near his mouth to blow the steam away, "use those detective skills to figure it out." Before Detective West could take a sip, he lowers his cup. His eyes are focused over her head and towards the opening door; Jay walks in. Erin eventually looks over her shoulder to see what had pulled in Tyler's attention and distracted him from drinking his coffee. At the sight of her husband, she stepped further back from Tyler and discreetly pocketed the jewelry box.
Detective West saw her, but made no mention of it. There's a reason she did it and he was going to respect that. He lifted his hot mug of coffee, nodded towards Detective Halstead and excused himself out of the room. Erin was left standing in the breakroom, watching as her husband approached her, "Sneaking off to make plans with your secret boyfriend…"
"Shut up," she laughed, sighing the moment he broke the obvious tension in the air.
Jay's eyes squint –immediately noticing the bulge in her pocket, he makes no mention of it, "Are you ready to head on out of here?" He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his car keys, "I'll meet you at the house since you drove here."
She clears her throat, "Okay."
"Erin, what was that about?" He tried to avoid asking; he actually hoped she would tell him without him having to question it. When she didn't mention anything, he was actually willing to overlook it, but the hesitance and awkwardness that formed in her body language and speech had him curious. He needed to know what was wrong.
She pats the side of his face and smiles reassuringly, "When I know, I'll tell you." His hand covered the hand of hers that patted his cheek, and he softly kisses it. He can respect that answer. He's going to hold her to her word on that.
Tyler stood in the bullpen; he's completely dazed out as he stares at the pictures of the four victims taped up to the whiteboard. He mindlessly sipped his coffee as his eyes rotated through each picture. The only thing interesting enough, and big enough, to pull his attention away from their photos was Erin and Jay departing from the breakroom –hand in hand. He stared at their joined hands as they said their goodbyes to the remaining detectives in the office. Voight wanted everyone to get some rest and he promised to call the second Mouse found something. Before Tyler looked back at the whiteboard, he made eye contact with Burgess –she watched him. She watched him as his eyes followed Erin through the aisle of the bullpen and down the stairs –he watched her until she walked out of his line of vision.
As Erin left out with Jay, she could feel Tyler's eyes following her; it all only pushed her to pull her husband even closer. If her words weren't enough, maybe her actions will be. She enjoyed being close to Jay –having that physical contact- she enjoyed being near him and knowing his presence was close, regardless of whether or not they're arguing, his presence alone was always wanted and comforting. They could argue all day and night, screaming at one another at the top of their lungs, but they loved each other and that wouldn't change for anything or anyone. To separate, even for a brief amount of time, as Erin goes to her car and he goes to his was hard; it was disconnecting as they had to be separated from their other halves. Without the other, they felt incomplete. She just wanted to get home, cuddle up to her husband on the couch and maybe watch a movie. She wanted to forget about the troubles of the world –even for a brief second- before Voight has to call them back into the precinct to investigate whatever Mouse is on the verge of discovering. And the second they arrive home, her wish; her hope to be with her husband and watch a movie became reality.
They're sitting upon the couch, some old movie playing on live television. It wasn't about the movie; it was about them being together. Honestly, neither knew the name or the plot of the film. It was watching them more than they watched it. Jay couldn't even see the screen if he wanted to; he was currently preoccupied by a welcomed and wanted distraction. Erin was on his lap –facing him- arms wrapped around his neck and a leg bent and resting on each side of his body. The dialogue of the movie faded into the background as Jay groans in pleasure as his mouth worked to urge her lips apart, "What has gotten into you?" Erin's lips smirked against Jay's as she used silence to answer his question. She wasn't in the mood for talking. She was in the mood for him –all of him. You can blame it on the overwhelming sense of hormones or the fact that she and her husband started something near the water fountain that they never got to finish; either reason felt understandably enough for her to want to have and enjoy him completely.
The passionate kiss felt achingly slow for Erin –she was impatient. And without disconnecting their lips, she ripped open his buttoned up shirt –they could hear a few broken buttons fly off and hit the floor. She made a mental note to clean that up later. Erin could feel Jay pour every ounce of love he had for her into that single kiss –it was powerful, invigorating and just completely fulfilling. It was needed on his part too. He hated when they were mad at each other; the only good thing that came from it was when it was make up time. Sometimes –an emphasis on sometimes- it made it all worth it. With both of their eyes closed and mouths moving against the other, Jay finally increased the speed; it was no longer slow and passionate, it was now hard, fast and intense as he kissed his wife while gently and carefully easing her onto her back. This may have been a temporary solution to their troubles and having sex was only going to provide a temporary relief to the Tyler problem, but it was so worth it for them. The discarding of their clothes, the skin to skin bodily contact and the passion that rocked the rest of their evening as their bodies joined together in a way that no ordinary person can truly understand –a person who has never experienced love won't be able to understand. Sex wasn't just about releasing the overwhelming urge of satisfying your needs. Sex was so much more than that; to them, to Erin and Jay it was a way to combine their beings –join their bodies- in a vulnerable admittance of shared loved. She was his wife. He was her husband. The second they started dating, the other was the only one who had the pleasure and satisfaction of seeing, touching, kissing and making love to their partner –their other half. Their relationship was more than the Tyler argument; they've overcome so much together; it's the reason why it's so easy to make up and make love after such a long and argumentative day. It's because they don't let the small things get to them and permanently stand in their way. If they did, they wouldn't be here; they wouldn't married, expecting a baby and currently on the sofa making love.