Progress doesn't just happen overnight –it sometimes doesn't even happen over the course of a day, a week, a month and sometimes even a year. It takes time and it takes effort, especially if you want things done efficiently and correctly. They had entirely too much to lose if they sped through this investigation; they had to make sure everything was done reasonably and in confines of the law. The progress they've made in their investigation has come along slowly but surely; they're further than they were when they were first given the case, but they're not nearly as far as they hoped to be after eleven total weeks. Erin knew in her current state that time was of the essence; she was ten weeks pregnant –that's two and a half months. Her waist is thickening a little; her hips are widening. She's not yet at the point where she needs to wear maternity clothes, but since her days are spent being surrounded by men who dedicate their lives to investigating and discovering the truth, she finds herself playing it safe by wearing shirts that are a size larger than her usual. In a few more weeks, her first trimester will be over, and she heard positive reviews from the doctor about the second; she needed that to get here as soon as possible. Her pregnancy symptoms were continually getting in the way of her trying to do her job.
Instead of being out there in the bullpen, Erin is hunched over a toilet. Instead of discussing with her team facts of the case, she's nauseous after the aroma of Olinsky's packed lunch spread through the workplace. And instead of helping the unit draw connections and find leads, she's releasing the contents of her lunch into the toilet. She thought that with time, her nausea was supposed to get better; if anything it has increased, it has gotten worse. And because of that, she rarely ever wants to be bothered –and if by any chance she does- her emotions and her mood could switch in an instant. She tries to control it, especially since no one besides Burgess and Platt knew the real reason behind it, but there's only so much controlling you can do when you're very emotional, very moody and the mood swings that occur within you are out of your hands –you no longer feel in control of your own freaking body!
She hears the bathroom door swinging open and footsteps follow –the sound of the flushing toilet is masked as she focuses on the voices that fill the restroom. She can't pinpoint them, but she knows she heard those voices before; it belongs to two rookie cops. They're joking around and trying to avoid their sergeant's wrath after a failed bust. Erin pulls her hair back and puts it into a ponytail; her body is exhausted and she feels dehydrated. She leans her back against the latched stall door as she patiently waits for them to leave, but as their giggles increase in volume she realizes they are in no rush to get back to work –they're taking their time.
"Get out of here." Lindsay straightens up at the sound of Platt's order; she hears the giggles disappear and the door shut, "Erin, come on out. It's me."
Lindsay unlatches the door and swings it open, "Do I look horrible?"
"…very."
She walks up to the mirror and against her better judgement, decides to take a look at her reflection, "I have the worst case of morning sickness to have ever existed," she turns on the water, and splashes the cold liquid against her face.
"I think you're being a little dramatic."
"You've never been pregnant; you wouldn't understand," Erin remarks, turning off the faucet water, "Oh gosh," she grabs a paper towel and dabs it against her damp face, "How am I supposed to go back out there when I practically ran off to the bathroom to puke my guts out?"
"They'll probably assume you're still sick," Platt brushes it off.
"It's been ten weeks."
Platt smiles and shrugs, "Who's counting?"
"I have a few more hours to get through before I'm off." Erin asserts to herself; she's staring at her reflection in the mirror. She's focused on her tired eyes and her messy ponytail. Her eyes eventually drift down her loose black, long-sleeved shirt tucked into her jeans; the color thins her out, it makes her look slimmer than she actually is. Her hands grip around the countertop as she blows a strand of hair out of her face.
Erin looks back at her reflection. The spotted mirror needed a cleaning, but it remained clear enough for her to see herself and the exhaustion clearly evident on her face. In the mirror, she sees Sergeant Platt step beside her and rest her hand against her lower back, "Jay isn't curious?"
"Of course he is; he asks so many freaking questions that it drives me crazy."
"What do you say?"
"Nothing," Erin replies, pulling her tucked-in shirt out of her jeans. She allows the loose shirt to dangle freely as her small baby bump finally had a chance to feel the breeze of air.
"And he doesn't find it suspicious?"
"We have sex so it hardly comes up."
"…eventually that isn't going to work."
Lindsay turns sideways and scans her side-profile in the mirror; observing the tiny intrusion and the fact that her shirt doesn't lay flat against her stomach; "I know, especially recently, I'm starting to show and I have not been in any kind of mood to…you know," she hints.
"Yeah I do."
She hates tucking in her long-sleeved shirts, but it's a must if she wants to continue obscuring the vision of her slight baby bump; Erin sucks in a large breath and tucks her shirt back in, "I'm already so over this pregnancy Platt."
"What's going to happen when he wants to…you know?"
"I literally do not have it in me."
"What if he asks?"
"…then I'm going to tell him. I wanted to wait until my second trimester, but I just can't anymore. I can't keep hiding this."
Platt offers her hand, "That's good to hear. You ready to head back out there."
"Hold a minute," Erin turns back on the faucet water and rinses the taste of puke out of her mouth. She gargles the water and spits it out; she does it twice before being satisfied at the lack of bile taste in the corners and creases of her mouth. She smiles; her upper teeth pressing against the lower teeth, "Ready," she shows Platt the smile and when she chuckles in response, she drops it. A fake smile they'll all see through; she sticks with a stoic, resting expression.
"Wait!" Platt shouts the second Erin walks towards the door. The detective practically jumps into the air and covers her heart from the sergeant's sudden raised voice. She sees a strip of gum extended towards her, and a genuine smile pulls at her lips.
"Thanks."
"Now you're ready."
Mouse had spent all day –and the last few weeks- combing through the surveillance footage. The only time he looked away from the screen was the moment where Erin and Platt walked up the stairs in the bullpen. He found himself scanning her appearance and blaming her tired expression on the overwhelming case they've been handed eleven weeks ago. Normally, he would have been finished searching through the surveillance videos weeks ago, but the facial recognition software is unable to detect and scan any face due to the dim lighting in the nightclub. It's frustrating and out of that frustration, he shoves his keyboard away and relaxes his forehead within his opened palm; he has everyone's attention, and he loudly voices his complaint, "What's the point of having surveillance if you can hardly make anything out?"
Dawson comes over to take a look at the screen, "You can't lighten the footage?" He squints as he tries to focus on each face in the flashing neon lights.
"This isn't television; if I lighten the footage it doesn't just become clearer."
Atwater approaches the other side of Mouse; he's also squinting his eyes while trying to make out the faces of each clubber, "Is there something you can do about it?"
"I just have to take my time and look through each frame carefully."
"I want to say take your time because we need to be thorough in this investigation," Voight says, walking out of his office after overhearing the discussion, "but time is definitely of the essence."
"He hasn't struck again yet," Mouse refuted.
"Any day now he can; the timing between each victim varies, this can just be another long time before the next one is found."
"I need extra eyes then."
Voight grips Kevin's empty desk chair, "Atwater, help Mouse." He rolls the desk chair towards him and before it can hit the wall, Atwater manages to grab it. Without any complaint, Atwater takes a seat beside Mouse and scoots his chair closer; Mouse rewinds the footage as they both comfortably adjust to two people sitting behind one desk and looking at a computer screen, tiredly watching frame by frame of the night their first Chicago victim visited the club.
The Indianapolis police had sent over their files the second they found them and logged them out of their system. Once received by the Intelligence unit, Olinsky posted the pictures of the victims onto the whiteboard –they were taped and situated next to their Chicago victims. Within one of the folders was a list of potential suspects that the Indianapolis police had made based off of who had argued with their two victims, however after using the weeks that passed to check each name out, none of those people cross-checked with either each other or their Chicago victims. The Indianapolis police reached a dead end months ago and now the Intelligence unit was slowly starting to pull up to the exact dead end that impeded the former police unit's search for justice.
Low chatter could be heard from Mouse and Atwater as they discussed each frame on the video while the footage played in slow motion allowing their eyes to scan through each face in search of one of their victims. It was tedious work, but it needed to be done. The remainder of the team created a semi-circle around the white board; they're eyes traveling from picture to picture; the only sound heard is the mumblings of Atwater and Mouse as they think they spotted the victim, only to find out it wasn't her. A large drawn question mark was written above the photos on the marker board; they didn't have a motive or a suspect. It was the two things they needed the most.
"Mrs. Scott this is the Intelligence unit," Platt introduces, holding the woman's wrist and carefully guiding her up the remainder of the stairs, "you've already met Sergeant Voight and Detective Olinsky, these are the rest of the detectives working on your daughter's case; she came here to see if there were any updates," Platt gives the fourth victim's mother a sympathetic smile before heading back down the stairs.
Mrs. Scott cleared her throat, "Sorry if I'm interrupting…"
"You're not interrupting," Hank breaks the semi-circle by stepping forward; he points his finger towards Burgess and Lindsay and waves them over, "Hi Mrs. Scott, these two here are Detectives Lindsay and Burgess, they'll take you to the breakroom and talk with you."
With Burgess hand pressed against Mrs. Scott's lower back, she guides the older woman towards their breakroom, "Would you like some coffee?"
"Sorry to disturb you all, I know you're busy working this case," Mrs. Scott whispered, smiling at Detective Lindsay when the young lady pulled a chair out for her to sit.
Burgess replied, "it's okay." She takes a seat next to the grieving mother with Erin on the other side. Kim scoots her chair closer as Erin pats Mrs. Scott's knee, encouraging her to speak.
"I just needed to check in. It's been weeks since Amanda's been killed and it's been weeks since her funeral, but I can't get the closure I need until the person who killed her is locked away."
"We're doing all we can Mrs. Scott."
"Call me Maura," the grieving woman corrects Erin.
Lindsay nods and repeats her earlier statement, "We're doing all we can Maura; you have my word. You're going to get closure and your daughter will get justice."
Most thought that investigating cases, chasing down criminals and interrogating suspects was the hardest part of the job and while those had its challenges, the hardest part for Erin –and now Kim- was talking with the families of the victims. Telling the loved one of the victim that they'll get justice was a slippery slope; no one ever knew for sure. The Intelligence unit has plenty of cold cases and the families of those victims didn't take the news well. Erin couldn't even look them in the face. However, just because she failed them, didn't mean she stopped trying. She gave every case her all and she made the promises to the new families as she did the old. It gave them hope. It gave them a chance for closure. It was the start of the grieving process for them.
"My husband doesn't even know I'm here." Maura admitted, swallowing the nervous bulge in her throat, "I've tried staying out of your way so you can do your job but-"
"You don't need a reason to come check in on our investigation," Erin interrupted.
"We can't share the details of it," Burgess reminded the grieving mother, "but just know, we're working hard to get justice for your daughter and the other women."
"I heard on the news that it's suspected the four women he killed here in Chicago weren't his first victims," Maura sniffs in; her hazel eyes are wide and she's looking back and forth between the two detectives.
Burgess is rubbing circles into her back, "No, we have reason to believe he started in Indianapolis."
"How does this happen?" the break in Maura's voice, the high-pitched tone in her question sends welling tears to Erin's eyes –stupid hormones- she was usually able to keep herself together, and while the tears didn't fall, she knew they were on their way; they would fall eventually. And with Maura crying, she knew it wouldn't be long. She's watching the older woman gather her thoughts before she started crying out, "Amanda was an adult, but she was still my baby!" Maura reaches for both Kim and Erin's hands and she squeezes them tightly once they're grabbed, "Someone just decided to take her from me! Why would they do that?"
"We don't know, but we're going to find out," Erin is confident in her reply. Her hand is already swallowed whole by Maura's larger one, but it doesn't stop Erin's thumb from rubbing against the back of it; it's comforting for Maura, it's actually soothing her.
"Are you two mothers?" She asks in the calmest manner.
"No," Kim smiles, feeling Maura's hand loosen from around hers, "Someday I will be, but I'm just waiting for the right, mature man…or I guess the man I'm currently with to grow up."
The second Burgess answers, Lindsay's hand subconsciously falls to her tummy. To the untrained eye, she wasn't showing, but to those who knew and looked really hard, they could spot her widened hips and the shaping of her small bump. Her silence and her hand placement was an answer for Maura; Erin didn't intentionally ignore her. She just didn't know how to answer it. She wasn't a mother…yet. She was pregnant. Does a pregnancy automatically make you a mommy or is it when the baby is born? Erin's hand brushed upon the fabric over her shirt; her palm is opened and it's covering most of her lower tummy.
"You're pregnant," Maura states as fact; she smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes, "Congratulations."
"Thank you."
"Protect that baby with every fiber of your being. When the baby comes, you're going to feel a love that you've never thought was possible," Maura avowed; her eyes never once breaking eye contact with Erin's hand covering her small bump, "Amanda was my miracle baby. Her father and I were struggling to get pregnant for months and it started to weigh on our relationship," her eyes break away from Erin's tummy in order to stare down at her own fidgeting hands –shaking against her lap, "but one day, it was spur of the moment and the next thing I know, I was pregnant. I had a risky pregnancy and was put on bed rest at six months. She came early and she was in the hospital for over a month. When she was a teenager, she was in a horrible car crash. And when she was in college, she was diagnosed with breast cancer. The doctors removed her breasts and she beat it. She beat cancer. She survived all of that and she was only 28."
"She sounds like an amazingly, strong woman," Erin complimented.
"She was," Maura agreed, separating her hands and shoving them under her thighs; it was the only way to keep them still, "…but how does a woman beat the odds of being born a preemie, beat the odds of surviving a car crash and beat the odds of breast cancer just to die by the hands of some maniac?!" She's sobbing and her hands remain jittery even under her legs; she removes them, "She was my only child. She was the first in our family to go to college. She was unemployed and the only reason she was at the club was to get a job. She wanted to work while looking for a permanent career somewhere else. I recommended it. I didn't want her just sitting on the couch, job searching all day. I told her to go out there and get a temporary job and look for permanent work during her off hours. I'm the reason she was at that club."
Erin's hand desperately reaches for hers, "It's not your fault."
"It is my fault, but I appreciate you telling me it's not." Maura hiccups through her tears; her shaking hand settles on top of Erin's, "It's my fault that my baby died!"
"I want to hug you right now. Is it okay if I hug you?"
Maura nods and the second she does, Erin swallows her frail body in a hug. Maura's black hair was peppered in grey and her up do had strands of hair falling down. Burgess disappears from beside her and returns seconds later holding a box of tissue. Erin keeps the older woman secured in her arms, and she feels Maura tighten the hold –she's holding onto Erin for dear life. She's holding onto the idea that maybe none of this was real; maybe she was holding Amanda. Amanda was a brunette; Amanda was white; Amanda was about her size. If she just closed her eyes for a few minutes, she could feel Detective Lindsay actually become Amanda. It's what stopped the sobs from building in her chest. The thought that her baby girl was back in her arms, however, the second Erin pulled back, the heavy weight of grief returned.
"Maura,"
She interrupts Detective Lindsay, "I should go. I held you two up long enough."
"Amanda wouldn't want you blaming yourself," Even though Maura cut her off the first time, Erin still chose to finish her sentence.
"From what you told us about your daughter, she sounds amazing," Burgess uses this moment as the opportunity to chime back into the conversation, "She sounds strong and wise and she would know that it wasn't your fault; you had no way of predicting this."
Maura starts crying all over again and Kim mentally beats herself for saying something; she felt that if she had kept her mouth shut, Maura wouldn't be sobbing right now. The grieving mother grabs a tissue from the box and dabs the corner of her eyes, "She survived being born at 28 weeks –seven months pregnant- she survived a car accident that killed everyone in the car, but her, and she survived breast cancer. She's been tested all these times throughout her life and this is how she goes?! I just don't get it. And now this psycho is out there, possibly preying on other women…and he had the nerve to take something from her –her breasts- of all things."
"Wait, Maura," Erin interrupts; while she truly feels bad for cutting the inconsolable mother off, the detective part of her kicked in and she had to say something before she forgot.
"Yes"
Erin repeats an earlier point Maura said, "Amanda had her breasts removed."
"Yes, because of the cancer."
"The perpetrator also took her breasts; how did he take something that was never there?"
"She had implants; she was self-conscious and saved up her money from the job she had in college and the one she worked after college before she was fired," Maura explains; she's confused and she reaches for another tissue to wipe the tears that continued to fall silently, "Detective Lindsay, do you think that had something to do with why she was killed?"
"The breasts he took weren't real," Burgess whispers; the statement is more to herself than anyone else. She makes eye contact with Erin, "How come you never told us this?"
"I honestly didn't think it was important," Maura answers Kim.
Erin stands from her seat; "Every piece of information, no matter how little you think it is, is important." She didn't know whether or not this meant anything, but it was worth checking out. She gently helped Maura to her feet, "How long has she had the implants?"
"She got the surgery two days before she was killed."
Burgess grabs a few more tissues and hands them over to Maura for her to take with her, "We'll find your daughter's killer. Erin already gave you her word and now you have mine." Maura peacefully closed her eyes and squeezed Kim's cheek –it was a silent thank you.
"Here's my card," Erin asserted, reaching into her back pocket and extending it to Maura, "Call me if you remember anything else; no matter how small Maura. It's important. And remember it's not your fault and please, don't forget that Kim's right. We'll find your daughter's killer. We're going to get justice for you and the families of the other women."
"I know you will," Maura gratefully sighs; she's hesitant and her hand twitches at her side as she chooses to extend it and set it upon Erin's lower tummy, "mother to mother, I know you will."
"We have to get back to work."
Maura smiles "Thank you and I'm sorry for just dropping by."
Burgess waves it off, "It's understandable; there's no need to apologize." She offers her arm and Maura wraps her arm through the younger woman's as she is led out of the breakroom. Kim had every intention of helping the fragile older lady down the inside and outside stairs.
Their departure left Erin alone in the breakroom. Her eyes still focused down on her stomach; she's staring at the placement Maura's hand was at moments before. It's weird having strangers or people you barely know pat and rub your belly no matter under what context. She stays standing; both of her hands eventually find comfort upon her lower abdomen. It's how Kim finds her when she finally returns. And Erin doesn't notice or feel herself being under the watchful gaze of her best friend until Burgess speaks up, "Do you think her implants have anything to do with her death?"
"He took them for a reason." Erin comments; she drops her hands and focuses in on Burgess as she walks into the breakroom, "It has to have something to do with his motive."
"None of the other women had implants."
"So why take them?" Erin retorts.
An unquestionable and unanswerable silence surrounds them. They're standing side by side in thought as they contemplate the new revelation. They honestly didn't know whether or not it had to do with anything involving the case. It could all be a coincidence, but it was worth checking out. For Amanda to have gotten surgery two days before being killed was too big of a coincidence for it to mean nothing. Erin is focused forward; her eyes gazing at the opened doorway. She's thinking hard about this; she's so concentrated in her thoughts that she didn't hear Detective West knocking against the opened breakroom door until Kim's voice filled the room, "Tyler, what do you want?"
He rolls his eyes at the exasperation in Burgess' voice; she sounded irritated, but he overlooks it as he steps further into the breakroom, "Did the mom tell you anything useful?" He curiously tucked his fingers into his front pockets –leaving his thumbs out and exposed, rubbing against his jeans, "What did she want?"
"You don't have to sound like her visit was an inconvenience," Erin remarked; she finds herself feeling protective of this woman –the mother to mother thing had gotten to her. It had connected her to Maura on a level that surpasses the ordinary association between the job and the victim.
Tyler shrugs, walking further into the room, "I just work better without the family checking in. So, what did she say?"
"We found her!" they hear Mouse yell; his voice is heard throughout the entire bullpen and breakroom. Whoever was planning to answer Tyler's question became distracted by Mouse's yelling voice, "We found her!" They rush out of the breakroom to find every Intelligence detective rushing over to Mouse's computer screen, "I found our first Chicago victim!"
Tyler stands behind Mouse's chair; he's slowly rewinding the footage to show them in slow motion, "You finally proved you aren't totally useless," Tyler arms are crossed, his hands tuck beneath his elbows, "Congrats." His comment goes ignored as Mouse plays the video. Atwater points to their first victim –Michelle Danvers- she's moving through the crowd and dancing with another man. The view of him is blocked; either the footage shows the back of his head or Michelle unintentionally blocks the front view. He seemed to either have luck on his side or he knew where both cameras were located.
Mouse stops the footage from playing after Olinsky's order. He attempts to zoom in, but the more he zoomed in, the blurrier the image had gotten. The lighting was still horrible, and all they could make out from the video is his dark hair. Whether it was black or brunette was still unanswered. His height, his age and even his race was unable to be detected in this image. The first victim had spent her entire time at the club hanging with this male figure; the team was almost certain that he was their culprit.
"Watch it again," Voight directed, sighing as he walks away from the computer, "and if you're still unable to get anything move on to the second victim; maybe you'll have a better chance at seeing his face in that footage."
Tyler scoffs, "I doubt it."
"Why?" Voight immediately turns around; his head is tilted and he's glaring at the detective. For a servant of the law, for a detective who basically forced himself onto this case, he rarely had anything to add. And when he did decide to open his mouth, it's often used to spout negativity.
"This guy is a genius; he knows how to cover his trail," Tyler explained; his voice was confident as he walked over to the whiteboard, "He has been doing this too many times to screw up. He's not going to get caught that easy." Tyler's finger points down against each victim's picture to back up his point.
Voight walks the remaining distance to his office, "Hopefully he has as much confidence in his abilities as you do. Too much confidence can cause a slip up, and a slip up is all we need." The sergeant had been ready to enter his office and shut the door; however he feels a hand tug against his arm, "What's up kid?"
She doesn't answer; she nods towards Burgess as she lifts the dry-erase marker and writes the word implants underneath Amanda's picture, "The breasts that were taken; they were fake."
Atwater is the first to respond, "What do you mean they were fake?" He rises from his seat and starts to walk over to Burgess; she's currently putting question marks beside each of the missing body parts of the other victims.
"They were fake." Erin restated; she rolls her eyes at the obvious confusion still evident on his face, "They were implants. I don't get what you don't understand."
Tyler is intrigued; his hands push back his suit jacket and grip his hips, "How do you know?"
"Maura…I mean Mrs. Scott told us." Burgess answered.
"I asked you earlier about whether or not she told you anything."
Kim remarked in response to Tyler's comment, "We got a little busy," she rolls her eyes and sets the marker down, "And we're telling you now."
"Why take Amanda's implants?" Dawson steered the conversation back on topic, "What significance do-"
"Wait." Erin interrupts; a thought crosses her mind, "Hand me Lucy's file." She doesn't know whether or not it'll lead anywhere, but she remembered something –something that may be important. Dawson runs over, swipes the file from his desk and rushes it over to Erin. She's standing; she's too antsy to take a seat and look through the folder. As Erin flips it open, she senses everyone approach, "What are you thinking kid?" Voight questions, looking over her shoulder as she flips through each page.
"I need to be sure before I say anything," she replies, stopping briefly on a page and skimming it with her eyes before flipping to the next page, "I remember reading something in Lucy's file. It was somewhere in the autopsy report," she turns to the third page of the report and pulls the sheet of paper out once her eyes locate the information she's been searching for, "Got it."
"What is it?" Dawson is craning his neck to peer down at the document from over Voight's shoulder. She grabs a highlighter and drags it over the sentence.
Erin holds it up, and points towards the highlighted statement written by the medical examiner, "All of Lucy's teeth were extracted from her mouth," she reads the words verbatim.
"Okay…" Ruzek drags out. It has yet to click; the connection is unclear to him.
"According to her autopsy report, the way the teeth were pulled and the markings left behind were different." Burgess explains, watching as Erin withdrew the x-ray picture of Lucy's mouth from the folder.
"Why?"
"…because they all weren't real," Lindsay answers Ruzek's question; he's scratching the bottom of his chin, combing his fingers through the short stubble, "Some of the teeth were implants." She continued to clarify, "He took her implanted teeth."
Dawson is looking down at the x-ray, "Why did he take her real ones too then?"
"He probably couldn't tell the difference," Erin offered the possibility; it was pure speculation, but it was something worth looking into.
"Yeah, at least we know he isn't a dentist," Tyler joked, earning the disapproving looks from his peers; it's frustrating for them as Tyler slides himself between Erin and Voight to look at the files. They're spread out all over her desk; they're unintentionally mixing in with other unrelated paperwork, but Tyler is still able to focus on the autopsy report.
"So Amanda's implanted breasts were taken and Lucy's implanted teeth were snatched. This may be something we're looking for; it can possibly lead to a motive," Voight summarizes, stepping away from his team huddled around Erin's desk, "I want you all to see if the body parts taken from the other victims were implants." He walks over to the top of the file cabinet, "Here Dawson, this is Shelby's file," he extends it and once Dawson grabs it, he watches the detective head back over to his desk, "Olinsky, here's Linda's file," Al approaches next and takes it from Voight, "Lindsay, I'm giving you Claire's file and Halstead, I'm giving you Michelle's file."
"Since I wasn't given a file," Tyler grabs an empty chair and drags it to Erin's desk, "I'll just work with you on Claire's casefile."
It sparks everyone's attention. Voight doesn't have it in him to argue; he has no basis to start one. He just gives Erin a look –a warning one- a look that tells her to be careful; one that reminds her of the fact that she's married; she's taken. Tyler's feelings for Erin are obvious. It took a lot for Erin to get to where she is today and Hank doesn't want her to ruin what she has built with Halstead. She has come a long way and he refused to allow some arrogant asshole to come between her marriage to the one guy he actually approved of; the one guy who has her back. He doesn't know what Tyler thinks he's doing –trying to weasel his way into the investigation only to try and woo Erin. When all is said and done though, and the case is over, Hank Voight will happily be sending Detective West on his way to wherever the hell he came from; the only reason he's been here as long was because of the six victims. They deserved to have all hands on deck; they deserved to have their case solved. Personal feelings and opinions shouldn't play a factor in the reason for keeping Tyler here; his ability to solve the case should be the defining factor.
"Thanks, but I don't need the help."
"I insist," Tyler replies; his arm is slung over the back of her desk chair, "An extra pair of eyes wouldn't hurt."
"West," Hank snaps out loud, "how about you go and make yourself useful?"
Since Tyler didn't work directly under him, he only followed orders when he agreed with them. Detective West had figured examining the file with Erin was exactly what he was being requested to do. Voight's eyes drift over to meet Jay's orbs; he notices his detective watching as Erin and Tyler debated over the case. She's trying to focus on highlighting and examining the file slowly, but he keeps trying to help. She works better alone –she works better when she wasn't with Tyler. He was a huge distraction, and how they're going back and forth over Claire's file and who will examine it, proves just how big of a distraction he can be. Jay is watching –he's trying to focus on inspecting the case file handed to him, but it's hard when Erin and Tyler are directly across from him looking over a case together. She eventually gives in. She lets him sit next to her, and they're both quietly looking over the file. His eyes occasionally drifting over to stare at the side of her face, while her eyes remain focused on the paperwork.
Jay finds himself unable to get pass the first page of Michelle's file; he's looked over it before, but now that they're supposed to reread the autopsy report, he can't seem to move pass the first sentence in the autopsy analysis. Voight's office door is closed, and he's peacefully sitting in his office while Halstead is forced to watch his wife and Detective West make peace as he reads the autopsy report from over her shoulder. If he reaches over her arm to turn a page –purposely allowing his hand to brush against hers- one more time then Jay is getting up. He's getting up and he's walking over; he's going to say something. Jay is watching –like a predator following his prey- he's waiting for the inevitable moment, and Ruzek notices. Halstead feels Adam's hand pat his shoulder to ease the tension in his body, "Kim says they're just friends, nothing more." Ruzek didn't have a file to look over, and in order to look busy, he reaches for Jay's and slides it towards him; both of their eyes staring at Erin and Tyler silently read the report.
"You and Kim notice it too?" Jay actually relaxes; he's been questioning himself and his mood. He never knew if he was overreacting or not, and since the entire team is picking up on the feelings Tyler is dishing out towards Erin then it's obvious; he has every right to act the way he's been acting and he is completely justified in feeling protective and territorial over his wife.
"I think we all do."
Jay turns his seat to face Ruzek –it's the first time he looks away from West, "Erin talks to Kim."
"Yeah…"
"And Kim talks to you…"
"…about most stuff. No secrets or anything; she won't betray Lindsay's trust."
Halstead sighs and turns his seat forward. He's watching Erin; she looks flustered as Tyler points out something in the autopsy report. She ignores it –deeming it unimportant to the case and then proceeds to finish reading it. He'll whisper comments every once in a while and she'll either chuckle or roll her eyes depending on what's been said. Jay looks back down and rereads the same sentence a fourth time; he can't focus.
"Something is up with Erin," he says through gritted teeth; it's annoying. Everything about Tyler is irritating; he's inserting himself into their case and he's trying to insert himself into his marriage. And the worse part about it all, Erin was allowing it.
"She's your wife. Talk to her," Ruzek reminds, knocking his shoulder against Jay's.
"She'll just say I'm either paranoid or jealous."
"You already tried talking to her?"
"I've been trying to talk to her for the last ten weeks; that's as long as Tyler has been here. She's acting weird and she's shutting me out," Jay asserts; he makes sure to keep his voice low and even. He absolutely didn't need for Erin, and especially Tyler, to overhear, "I even tried asking her about her doctor's appointment and she lied to me about it."
"Lied to you?"
"She said she was going to tell me about it later."
"And she didn't?"
"No," Jay remarks, "and that was six weeks ago," his voice growls and he realizes the more he talks about it, the more frustrated he grows, "I called her doctor and there's doctor-patient confidentiality even against her husband. I've been trying to talk to her for the last ten weeks about the obvious elephant named Tyler in the center of our relationship."
"Well what's taking you so long?"
Jay's eyes drift up to continue staring forward at Tyler and Erin, "She keeps distracting me."
"Distra…oh wait, with sex?"
"Yes," it's an embarrassed whisper; Jay sort of blushes.
Ruzek chuckles, "I need a wife like Erin."
"Come on dude, not cool."
"Okay sorry, continue…" Adam's interest is peaked and he covers his mouth with his hands to ensure his friend that he wouldn't interrupt him again.
"I see her and Tyler getting closer, I bring it up to her, we argue, say we're going to talk about it later at home and then once we get home she initiates sex."
"I seriously need a wife like Erin," Ruzek sighs after dropping his hands from his mouth, "I'd kill to have my girlfriend forget about our arguments and initiate sex with me." He quips; his eyes staring at Burgess as she looks over a file with Dawson, however, he soon starts to feel Jay's eyes burning into the side of his head, pulling back in his full undivided attention, "…but I digress. Anyway, have you told her this?"
"If you would stop fantasizing about my wife and actually listen to me for a second, you would have heard me say that I never have the chance to tell her. I'll bring it up here, and she'll get mad that I'm discussing our personal life at work, and when we get home, before I can bring it up again, she's all over me."
"Well, tell her no sex," Ruzek manages to say this with a straight face.
He's not joking. He's not being his usual Adam self. He's serious. When Jay looks at him, he can tell. He doesn't see a hint of a smile on Ruzek's lips. It's the best advice he could have came up with; it sounds obviously simple. And when Ruzek sees the complexity and the internal battle behind Jay's eyes, he laughs and decides to tweak his earlier comment, "Okay, tell her no sex until after you talk."
"You obviously overestimate my ability to say no to her and sex."
Ruzek pats his back, "Come on Halstead; don't be such a stereotype."
"This is Erin we're talking about; I can't just say no to her."
"Oh I know, but you're going to have to say no if you want answers."
It's quiet between them. Jay continues watching them and he sighs, "You're right," he hated to admit it, but it was true, "I can sacrifice a day of no sex to talk to my wife."
"A day?" Adam chokes out; his eyes widening to an unimaginable size, "You've been having sex every day?!"
"I told you, something has gotten into her."
"I thought married life was boring! I thought married people's sex life is nonexistent." Ruzek exclaimed; his voice reaches a new pitch –one that isn't considered an inside voice, "I want to have sex every day! I barely have it once a week!" Mouse spits out his coffee. It's a clear sign that everyone in the bullpen heard. Each person in the room looks over and it's so quiet, you can hear a pen drop. Ruzek's mouth, once again, will get them into trouble.
"Shush!" Jay snaps, shoving Adam's chair away from him. In his peripheral, he can see Burgess blushing; her face is redder than a tomato. She's absolutely embarrassed.
Adam clears his throat, "Sorry," and then he proceeds to grab a random book on the edge of his desk and pretend to read it. It's all an act; everyone can tell. He has no interest in the book.
Jay had been so focused on everyone else's reaction that he had forgotten about the most important reaction of them all; his wife. Her mouth is agape as she looks back and forth between Adam and Jay. Her hands are gripped around the armrest of her chair as she slowly pushes herself up, "Hey Jay, can I talk to you for a minute?"
"I guess you're finally getting your talk," Adam muttered from behind his opened book. She nods towards the back hallway and without looking over her shoulder to make sure Jay saw, she walks away. She can hear his footsteps behind her as she leads him down the hallway and into the interrogation room; they needed privacy.
There are two hard chairs one positioned on each side of the bare and bland interrogation room. Erin ignores both as she begins pacing the small and cramped space. She waits to hear the door close and once it shuts tight, she turns to face her husband, "What's going on with you?" Her words come out calmly; the soft pitch in her tone surprises both of them.
"Erin-"
Her voice raises, "Are you talking about our sex life with Ruzek?"
"It's nothing," he brushes it off with the wave of his hand.
"It's not nothing!" She shouts, and stands in disbelief the second Jay opens the door to the interrogation room with every intention of leaving out through it, "Hey, I'm talking to you."
"Now you're in the mood to talk?" He questions, slamming the door and turning to face her.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I'm not in the mood for this."
"Fine," Erin mutters, reaching beside Jay to reopen the door, "I guess I'll see you later; we kind of don't have a choice."
Lindsay walks out of the interrogation room at the same time Tyler departs from the men's restroom. He opens his mouth to say something to her, and she simply raises her hand to silence him before he is able to utter a word. Tyler watches Erin walk down the hallway before disappearing back into the bullpen of Intelligence. He's left standing there as he sees Jay walk out of the interrogation room next, "Hey," Tyler calls out, extending his hand towards Halstead, "I'm sorry if I was the cause of that argument. I apologize for overstepping any boundaries."
"You know what," Jay smirks, scratching the little stubble beneath his chin, "you have a lot of nerve. You think you're so slick standing here, in front of me, trying to make peace when we both know peace isn't what you're after. You're not getting her, no matter what you do. Erin and I can argue all day and nothing will change. She's still coming home with me, to me. And you may think whatever little one-sided flirtation you have with her right now is going to last, but the second we close this case, you're out of here…and if Voight doesn't kick you out, I will."
"Just chill Detective Halstead," Tyler whispers, crossing his arms over his chest, "your girl has made it perfectly clear to me that she's not interested…at least not yet."
"You don't know what to say out of your damn mouth."
"What's your problem?" Detective West chuckles, stepping back the second Jay stepped towards him, "I haven't done anything to you."
Jay exasperatedly runs his hands over his face, "Are you seriously asking me that? My problem is that some poor excuse of a detective keeps coming for my girl."
"And you feel threatened…"
"I'm done talking to you," Jay replies, walking around Tyler in order to continue walking towards the bullpen. He doesn't want to argue, especially here. He doesn't want to give Tyler the satisfaction in thinking that he's impacting their relationship. This is between him and Erin.
Halstead had every intention of walking into the bullpen and continuing his work. He has to see if anywhere in Michelle's autopsy there was a connection between her and Amanda, or any of the other women. By the time, he made it to the water fountain, Tyler broke out into a light jog in order to catch up; he grabs Jay's forearm and gently pulls him to a stop, "If this is about the pink roses, then Erin has made it perfectly clear that I shouldn't have sent them to her." Jay wasn't going to stop walking; he was going to snatch his arm from Tyler's hold and continue on, but the second he hears about the roses, it draws in his curiosity.
"You're sending flowers to my wife?"
"Yeah, it was just once. You know this; I would assume that Erin told you."
Jay snatches his wrist free, "Stay away from my wife."
"I'm only looking out for her. You should be thanking me instead of showing your insecurities."
"Shut up."
"That day she wasn't feeling good; I got her dinner." Tyler continued on. He knew exactly what he was doing and as the rage built in Jay's eyes, he knew he was succeeding, "Her tire was flat and I drove her home. She was grateful, maybe you should be."
"You're talking about weeks ago?"
"Yeah,"
Halstead pushes him back, "Stay away from my wife," he warned, it comes across threateningly, "I'm not going to tell you again. She doesn't need anything from you."
"It never happened again."
Jay walks back into the bullpen to hear the team discussing. Michelle's file is in front of Ruzek and he sends his friend a nod of thanks, knowing Adam looked over it for him. From the discussion, they know that Shelby's nose wasn't fake; it throws off whatever they thought they were planning. Linda's fingers couldn't have been fake, and they weren't. The hair taken from Claire's head was all hers; her natural roots were stripped from her scalp. And Michelle Danvers had traces of some type of chemical, but the perpetrator took both her lips and her tongue. There seemed to be no linkage between any of the victims' body parts.
Voight had given up focusing on the body parts; they needed to focus on something that was going to lead them somewhere. They may come back to the body parts when it's necessary and if it has the potential to lead to something, but for right now, when Hank was in his office, debating over the facts of the case, he thought about the club owner. That nightclub was what all the Chicago victims had in common; there had to be something else up with it. It has to have some other sort of purpose. After getting Mouse to print out the photo of their first victim talking with some mystery man –their potential suspect- he holds it up to his team, "I want someone to go to talk with the club's owner. I know this picture isn't clear, but it's something. Show this to him, maybe he can tell us something based off this that we don't know."
"Lindsay and I can go; we can talk to the manager," Halstead volunteered; Erin is shocked to hear her husband offer their services to go somewhere together after he basically said he didn't want to talk to her minutes ago.
"I want someone who doesn't have anything to do," Voight responded, walking over to Ruzek and extending it towards him, "Ruzek take Atwater. Lindsay is still looking through the case file. She's busy, and you have to reread over Michelle's autopsy report; make sure Ruzek didn't miss anything." As he speaks to Halstead, Adam and Kevin grab their coats and are quickly out of Intelligence. It was getting late and they've been cooped inside all day. Everyone wanted the chance to get out, but work was almost over, so they had an hour or two left before they were all relieved of their duties until the next day.
Hank waves for Olinsky to follow him into his office; for all intents and purposes, they were partners. Al understood most decisions Hank made and he didn't judge him when he made the tough –sometimes illegal- choices. Olinsky closes the door behind him, leaving some of the team curious. Halstead was too absorbed by Erin's presence to worry about whatever Voight and Olinsky were talking about; usually he cared, but right now, he needed to talk to his wife. As she slowly flips the page, he walks up to her desk, "I need to talk to you. Alone."
She looks up at him briefly, "No." Her eyes look back down at the file. Tyler watches from his position near the whiteboard –he's smiling. He's amused and Burgess notices it.
"Erin, I'll look through the rest of that," Burgess offered; she walks over to grab Claire's file from Lindsay, "go talk to your husband." Her voice is serious; she's adamant about Erin talking with Jay alone, especially because Tyler seemed to find satisfaction when there was disturbance within her friends' marriage.
Erin looks up at Jay as Burgess snatches the file from her desk –without protest- and walks it back over to her own. She looks at her husband's eyes, and she sees desperation within them. She couldn't say no this time. She had to go. He needed to talk to her, and as his wife, she owed him that. Whatever he wanted to talk about, she owed it to him and their marriage to listen. Without another sign of protest or disapproval, she gets up from her seat and follows him back into the interrogation room; this time he locks the door behind them so neither are felt compelled to leave until everything was out in the open. It's private in here. No one would be able to hear them from the bullpen.
This time, she takes a seat in the hard chair. She doesn't know how long they'll be in here, and she's starting to not feel so good again. She's sitting in the cold, metal chair and her hands are intertwined above the table. Lindsay watches him start to pace and it begins to make her feel nervous; he opens his mouth to speak, but closes it right afterwards. He's struggling to find the words. He's looking for a good way to start off without yelling, without getting pissed and without shutting her out.
"I know." He settles on two simple words. He's still pacing.
"You lost me," Erin whispers; she smiles to ease the growing tension in the room, "What do you know Jay?"
"I know about the flowers Tyler got for you, and I know that you never told me."
"Who told you that?"
The suppressed anger suddenly bubbles up to the forefront, "Is that all you have to say Er? Really?" He stops pacing; he's standing on the other side of the table, facing her, "Your husband tells you that he knows that another man has been sending you flowers and all you can think of asking me is who told me?"
"I didn't think it was worth mentioning. I told Platt to get rid of them."
"So Platt knows?"
"Yeah," she rises to her feet, "only because they were left at the front desk."
"Who else knows?"
"…just Burgess."
Halstead turns away from her, "Great, they know. That's just great." He rests his forehead against the cement wall and sighs loudly.
"Jay, I didn't accept them. And I didn't give him any impression that I would."
"So him working late with you that day you sent me and Voight home because you wanted to be alone –that wasn't giving him the wrong impression?" Halstead backs up against the wall; he tilts his head back and closes his eyes; he's trying every technique he can think of to remain calm. It's hard; every part of him wants to yell, wants to tell her that he's a guy and he knows what guys think. He wants her to stop being so naïve and actually see Tyler as the man he is; the man who doesn't care or respect her marriage.
"That was after the flowers."
"You know what I mean!" Jay snaps; he backs further away from her. He can't go back anymore; he's basically flat against the cement wall.
"No, I didn't ask him to stay! He showed up –with food!"
"You should have asked him to leave." Halstead retorted, pushing away from the wall, "But you didn't. Instead, you let him stay, you had dinner with him and you let him drive you home."
"It was innocent!"
Jay laughs. It isn't filled with amusement; it's filled with bitter and pity. He can't believe she's serious. If the roles were reversed, she would be acting just like he is, if not worse. Instead of putting herself in his shoes, she's defending her actions, she's defending Tyler's actions; she's downplaying everything.
"You should have told me," the bitter laugh does calm him.
"There was nothing to tell! Nothing happened!"
"How am I even supposed to believe you?" He asks and the moment the question is posed, he sees the stoic look on her face crack, "You lied about everything else."
"I didn't lie!"
"Withholding stuff from me –from your husband- is still lying; it's lying by omission."
Erin rushes over to her husband, "He's irrelevant. This argument is dumb Jay!" She grabs onto his hand and he involuntarily snatches it away from her.
"So let me get this straight…" Jay starts, moving away from his wife, "Tyler buys you flowers and you don't say anything. He drives you home late at night after you basically ordered me and Voight out the door and you don't say anything. He brings you dinner that night and you don't say anything! And now you have the audacity to look me in my face and say I'm mad for no reason, that this dispute we're having is dumb?" He hollers and luckily the interrogation room is far enough away from the bullpen so no one could hear because if it were any closer, everyone would have heard, everyone would have come to check in on them, "What else have you not said anything about Erin?" He lowers his voice; he keeps it at a minimum volume, but the edge to it is still angry, "What else is going on with you two? Have you kissed him? Have you held his hand? Have you slept with him? What else is going on? Answer me!"
"Nothing!" She cries out, "Nothing is going on with us!"
"What else are you hiding then? What is going on with you?" Jay's voice breaks as he pulls a seat out to sit, "Ever since he came into the picture, you've been different."
"I promise this has nothing to do with him Jay. I'm pre-"
He cuts her off, "This has nothing to do with him? Are you serious?!" He's on a rollercoaster ride of emotions; his voice is yelling once again, "We've argued more these past few weeks than we've did in our entire marriage and it's always been about him!"
"No it hasn't. We rarely argue."
Jay smirks; he's in shock at Erin's ignorance, "Is that what you think? We rarely argue because you throw yourself at me? You use sex to shut me up."
"No I don't." She responds, rushing over to his side, "Jay, just let me explain; I'm preg-"
"Erin, if you feel the need to hide something from me, lie to me about it, or feel bad because of it, chances are you shouldn't be freaking doing it!" He keeps cutting her off. He doesn't want to hear what she has to say and how she chooses to justify her actions.
"I didn't do anything."
"Exactly; it's what you don't do that makes Tyler think he actually has a chance with you."
She sighs, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, "He just needs someone."
"And that someone has to be you?" He turns in his seat to face her; she's sitting against the corner of the table.
"You're not going to do it."
"No. I'm usually not the first one to volunteer to help the man who has been hitting on my wife for weeks."
"Jay!" Lindsay exclaims.
"Erin," he interrupts whatever she was going to say, "please just…just give me some space."
"What?" She watches him stand up and move towards the door.
"I just need to be alone right now. I need to think."
"You haven't even listened to-"
He interrupts her again, "I said I need to be alone; I need to think!" Jay snaps, and Tyler watches.
Detective West watched the whole thing on the other side of the one-way mirror. He peered into the entire argument seconds after Jay locked him and his wife in the interrogation room. Seconds before Jay unlocked the door, Tyler departed from the connecting room. He leaves out with a smug grin across his face. It remains there the rest of the day. It's settled there when Erin leaves the interrogation room. It doesn't leave as they work the last two hours of the day. And it definitely doesn't leave when he notices Jay and Erin avoid each other the remainder of the day. When the work day was over, he doesn't even see them make plans for dinner like they usually do. Jay quietly gets into her car and leaves. He waits for Erin, but when he sees her hop into a taxi, Halstead pulls out of the parking spot and decides to head home. Tyler has every intention of prying for details tomorrow, but for tonight, he stops in front of Mollys'. It's been his nightly routine. He finds himself coming here more and more often since he started working with the Intelligence unit. And to his surprise, he finds a familiar face, sitting at the bar. It's a face he hasn't seen here since he started coming, and after spotting her, he grooves to the music in his quest to approach the bar stool beside her.
Erin is sitting –crying- and nursing a virgin strawberry daiquiri. She really wanted a drink, but she couldn't because of the growing baby in her body. She's drinking virgin drinks and imagining that it has liquor content within it. Tears have been trickling down her eyes ever since the taxi left the district, and they continued to fall even when Tyler takes a seat in the empty barstool next to her.
"Did you follow me here?" She asks, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hands.
"No, I heard Mollys was the hangout spot so I decided to check it out a few weeks ago," He admitted, scooting himself closer to the bar top, "I've been coming here after work a lot. Ask anyone in here." The second he finished talking, Erin notices Gaby wave at Tyler; she walks over and even personally greets him.
"Your usual?"
"Yeah, thanks Gaby."
Gaby walks away, and Tyler turns in his seat to face Lindsay, "See I told you."
"…my apologies," she lifts her virgin drink and finishes the last drop.
"Erin Lindsay is crying over a guy." Tyler asserted, reaching over to pull a piece of imaginary lint out of her hair, "Nope, pick your head up princess before your crown falls off." Erin smiles, and sniffs in –holding back her tears. It pulls a grin onto Tyler's own face, "Is that a smile I detect?"
"We really shouldn't be talking. You've done enough."
"So, we can't talk with one another because your husband said so?" He asks, he gives Gaby a kind smile when she sets his drink down in front of him, "I honestly didn't take you for one of those girls who does everything a man tells her."
Erin argued, "I don't do everything a man tells me!" There's a fire behind her eyes; there's passion in her words. She's never been one of those types of girls and she didn't appreciate him implying it. Tyler is peering into her eyes, observing the passion and watching as her eyes sparkle beneath the lighting at the bar. She sees his eyes relax; he's mesmerized by her orbs, and she laughs to break the mood, "Shut up," he chuckles before he has another chance to attempt to flirt, "you wouldn't be able to handle me."
"Is that an invitation to try? I can literally look into your eyes all day." Tyler is beaming; smiling ear to ear. And Erin sighs. It kills the mood. He's happy and basically bouncing in his bar stool while she miserably tries to keep a fake smile on her face. He can see straight through it, and after taking a small sip of his drink, he turns back to face her, "Want one?" He holds up his glass and it earns Gaby's attention; she starts fixing him another.
"I can't," she sighs, blowing a strand of hair out of her face, "I'm pregnant," the revelation causes him to spit the small sip of alcohol out of his mouth as she continues, "I was never sick with the flu or anything. I'm just pregnant. I'm almost three months."
"Well if it's any consolation," his eyes drift down to her tummy, "you're not really showing."
"Thanks."
Erin turns forward in her barstool and stares at the alignment of alcohol bottles. She didn't want any –it was just the only thing in her line of sight. She hears Gaby and Tyler talk briefly as she gives him another drink; he finishes his first one before sliding the empty glass down to the bartender. He stirs the skinny black straw around his brown drink, and he takes a tiny sip before turning back to face her, "How did Halstead take it?" he's curious to know.
"He doesn't know…" Erin sighs, and the second she admits her, she immediately turns to face him, "And you better not say anything. The last thing he needs is to find out from you."
"My lips are perfectly sealed…" He takes his fingers and drags them across his lips –mimicking a zipper, "…awaiting contact with yours."
She shoves his arm, "Oh shut up."
He managed to pull a brief smile onto her lips, but it didn't stay. It disappeared the second she remembered exactly why she's here; why she's at a bar alone instead of celebrating baby news with her husband. She remembers their argument. She remembers the look on Jay's face.
"What's wrong? You can talk to me."
"It's nothing you can help me with."
Gaby walks over and takes her empty glass. Erin declines the offer of another drink. She's sliding the empty glass back and forth in her hands; she's playing with it like a toy. She occasionally sniffs in and blames the emotions on her pregnancy. It makes it easier than actually blaming herself for the tears threatening to fall.
"Why not?" Tyler nudges his shoulder against hers, "I'm a great advice giver. I'm a wonderful problem solver. I'm just all around a great guy."
"…not when it comes to respecting boundaries," Erin mutters; she finds herself mindlessly turning the wedding band around her finger.
"I look at it like never giving up."
"You should though."
"Is that what's bothering you?"
Erin sucks in a deep breath and slams her hands against the bar top, "Why would you tell Jay about the roses, about the dinner and about taking me home?"
"I assumed you told him. I'm sorry; it was under my impression that telling your spouse about stuff like that is what happens in a healthy marriage."
"Our marriage is healthy," Erin corrected through gritted teeth; she's back facing forward.
"…if you say so. Who am I to tell you it's not?"
"You're right. Who are you to tell me that?"
"…just an unbiased outsider looking in."
"Unbiased huh?"
Tyler chuckles; he had to give it to her, she knows she's right. He doesn't argue with the truth. And while he urged her to speak up and just get everything off her chest, he knew that by his insistence, she would do everything in her power to close herself off –to shut down and withdraw herself from the situation.
"Do I have regrets?" She suddenly exclaims; it comes out of nowhere and catches him off guard, "You bet your ass I do, but they're about what I didn't do, not what I've done."
"What do you regret?"
"…not telling my husband about us."
"So, there is an us," Tyler gleams, winking his eye and bumping his shoulder against hers.
"No, you misinterpreted."
"We have more than a friendship, but less than a relationship," Tyler clarifies, tossing his arm around Erin's shoulders, "…at least for right now."
"I'm married," she shimmies her shoulders from beneath his arm.
"…at least for right now."
"We're not friends."
"Are you in denial Ms. Lindsay?"
"I'm married."
"I'm okay with that."
Her eyes glance down to her stomach, "I'm pregnant."
"I'm okay with that too," he chuckles.
"That's so not funny."
"Come on Erin; loosen up." He urges, his smile widens when another glass is set down in front of him, "Life is so much funnier when you have a dirty mind."
Lindsay has another uncontrollable urge to cry; she keeps thinking back to the look on Jay's face. He looked so sad, so disappointed and so betrayed. This case was getting to them all; it was making them believe things that weren't true and it was causing a rift in their seamless marriage. Erin just wanted to get back to her life before this case and before Tyler came into the picture. A tear rolls down her face, and before it approaches the end of her cheek to roll off her face, it's wiped away; the second tear is wiped away seconds afterwards.
"Stop; that's inappropriate."
"How is a guy wanting you to stop crying inappropriate?" Tyler asks, wiping his damp fingers against his pants, "Your husband isn't here to do it so somebody has to."
"That someone doesn't have to be you," she asserts, turning her seat around so they're facing each other –knee to knee- staring into each other's eyes, "Let's stop talking about this. Enough about me; I want to hear about you and your quest for the perfect love." Lindsay felt like she was hanging out with one of her girlfriends; she's relaxed and her hand pats his knee, "Has she disappointed you yet?"
"Who?"
"Your perfect girl."
"If anything, I think she's even more perfect."
"Hmm," Erin whispers, pulling her hand away, "I would hate to see her break your heart."
"I don't think she'll do that."
Erin found it adorable how Tyler only saw the perfections in his female friend, but she was a little concerned at the fact that he's unintentionally overlooking her imperfections. It's one thing to be aware of someone's imperfections and overlook them because you love them and you realize that the imperfections aren't what makes someone less of a person, but it's another thing when you're ignorant to their imperfections because you truly don't want to believe that the person you're fond of, the person you love, could possess such inadequacies. It's what makes us human. And there's nothing wrong with that.
A man approaches, "You look like you need a drink." He speaks before Erin has the chance to respond to Tyler, "Hey, can I have a shot of tequila over here for my lady friend?"
"I'm fine really. I don't want a drink." She can smell the strong hint of alcohol on his breath and chooses to kindly send him on his way. Erin shakes her head at Gaby, informing the firefighter to not pour her a shot of tequila.
His response is loud, "What? You're too good to accept a drink from me?"
"I didn't say that." She whispers; she didn't feel like arguing, and with this man, she hoped the truth would shut him up and send him on his way, "I'm pregnant."
"Yeah right," he scoffs, "…you wouldn't be here if you were."
"I don't want to argue with you. Save your money or just drink it yourself."
"You have a lot of nerve lady! You don't get to just disrespect me and-"
"What are you talking about?" Erin exclaims, stepping down from the barstool, "I'm being polite to you! I'm trying not to be rude!" She's significantly shorter than him, and even with her small baby bump, she's significantly smaller than him.
He towers over her and peers down to meet her eyes, "You come in here looking down on me like I'm some sort of drunk!"
"If the shoe fits…" she doesn't back down; she's in no mood to argue, especially with a drunk.
The man is boiling; he's enraged. The smell of alcohol emits from his breath and his pores. The alcohol controls his thought-process, it controls his speech and as he stumbles towards her, it controls his balance. He grips onto the edge of the bar to steady himself. Erin looks over to see Tyler step down from the barstool and take a step beside her. He gently elbows her side –being mindful not to hit her stomach, "Don't make a scene Lindsay."
"Tyler-"
"What's that supposed to mean lady?" The stranger drunkenly snaps; he earns a few looks from some of the other nearby bystanders. The group of friends he came with is watching from the other side of the bar –they're smiling, appearing almost as drunk as he is. And before Erin could send him on his way back to his friend group, she hears Tyler whisper in her ear once again, "Don't make a scene."
"I'm not going to make a scene," Erin snaps; Tyler constantly telling her what not to do was driving her crazy. It wasn't helping the situation.
"You know what; women like you irritate the hell out of me!"
Tyler mutters, "Don't Erin."
"I told you that I'm not going to make a scene!" She snaps at Tyler before turning back to the stranger, "Please just leave me alone."
The man continues, "You sit on your little high horse and judge me! Well, maybe you should look in the mirror and see the imperfections looking right back at you bitch."
"Who the hell do you think you're talking to?" Erin retorts and before he can open his big mouth and respond, she continues, "I may look small. The tears may make me look fragile. And I might even seem to be a quiet and defenseless woman, but I'm telling you, you do not want to mess with me! I did not come here to be pestered, to be flirted with and definitely not to be offered drinks. I came here to get away from the stressors in my life and now you're one of them! Get away from me! Leave me the hell alone! And most importantly just fuck off!"
By the end of her rant, she's calm. She watches him walk away. And she's left standing with Tyler; out of embarrassment, she turns to face him, "I made a scene." It comes out in a whisper.
"Yeah you did." He replies, tossing an arm around her shoulders, "Okay, how about we get out of here before he comes back with his friends," Tyler nods towards the direction of the man chatting it up with his friends, "You kind of made him look like an idiot and less of a man."
"He did that to himself. And he's not seriously going to come back with friends to hurt me."
"He's drunk; he's not thinking clearly. I wouldn't put anything pass him," Tyler remarks, watching as the man and his friends occasionally look over towards them.
"I'm not ready to go home just yet." Erin sighs, turning back to her seat, preparing to climb back up onto the stool, "My husband needs his space…so I'll take my chances here. I'm pregnant and I doubt he would hurt a pregnant woman."
Tyler extends his hand towards her, "I wouldn't be so sure; come on. We can have a nightcap at my place so you can continue doing everything possible to avoid going home."
"Fine," she sighs, setting her hand within his and allowing him to lead her out of the bar. She hears catcalling from the group of men, and after sending them a wave of the middle-finger, she's gone. She's out in the pouring rain, jogging towards Tyler's car.