A/N: this will just be a one-shot with an epilogue. The idea for this popped into my head randomly last night, so I just started writing and ended up with this.
Erin walked up the sidewalk to the front door of the house where she'd spent her teenage years, pulling a suitcase behind her. She stood there, staring at the door nervously. Five years ago, she'd left Chicago to take a job with the FBI in New York and she hadn't been back until now. She'd wanted to come back so many times, but every time, she'd talked herself out of it or Hank had told her not to come.
It had been nearly eight years since she'd seen any of the friends she'd left behind. So much had changed in those that time: Antonio had developed a pain killed addiction and left Chicago, Al had been murdered, Jay and Hailey had gotten married, Burgess had adopted a little girl, Jay had rejoined the Army, and Jay and Hailey had gotten divorced. So many changes that she'd missed. She regretted not coming back sooner, but it had been easier to stay away. Now, however, she couldn't stay away. When she'd gotten the phone call a couple of days ago from Sergeant Trudy Platt, she'd known that it was time for her to come home. With a heavy heart, she pulled the key to the house out of her pocket, unlocking the front door and walking inside.
She looked around the house with a sad smile on her face. Nothing had changed since she'd been here last. Not that she'd expected it to, of course. Hank always had been a creature of habit. But still, it was nice to see that at least one thing had remained the same in the five years that she'd been gone.
Hank had flown out to visit her in New York twice in the time since she'd been there: once on the first anniversary of Justin's death a few months after she'd left, and again a year ago when she'd received an award and promotion. They'd talked on the phone frequently, of course, especially when Erin had first moved away, but with how busy they both were with their jobs, it had been difficult to align their schedules for a visit.
In a way, it had been easier; both times when Hank had left, Erin had felt the sadness and heartbreak that she'd felt when she'd chosen to leave Chicago creep back in again, and it had taken her a couple of months for it to leave again. Now, though, she regretted that. She should have insisted on coming here to visit. She should have done a better job of staying in touch with everyone.
She trudged up the stairs to her old room, setting her suitcase on the bed and unzipping it. She pulled out the black dress she'd packed, walking over to the closet, and hanging it up as tears stung her eyes. The dress had been buried in the back of her closet; the last time she'd worn it had been at Nadia's funeral. Every time she'd seen it, it had served as a reminder of what she'd lost, but she hadn't been able to bring herself to get rid of it. In a couple of days, she'd once again be wearing it to say a final goodbye to someone that she had loved.
Erin walked back over to the bed, sinking down onto it. She'd felt alone many times since she'd left Chicago, but she didn't think she'd ever felt as alone as she did now. She had burned so many bridges when she'd left by completely abandoning everyone, ignoring all of the text messages and phone calls that she'd received when Hank had broken the news that she was gone for good. She'd thought it was easier that way for everyone, but now, for the first time, she was questioning her decision. Her friends and former team had each other, but she had no one. She was alone in her grief, and she had no one to blame but herself.
Shaking herself out of her pity party, Erin stood up, finishing unpacking the suitcase before making her way back downstairs. She started to head for the kitchen to see what she could scrounge up to eat, but stopped when a picture hanging on the wall caught her attention. It hadn't been there the last time she'd been here, and seeing it brought fresh tears to her eyes.
It had been taken after they'd successfully closed a big case, only a week or two before she would leave the team. They'd all gone to Molly's to celebrate afterwards and had run into Antonio. Atwater had grabbed his phone and taken a selfie with all of them in the background, stating that they didn't have any pictures of the whole team together since Burgess had joined. Antonio had tried to insist that he shouldn't be in the picture since he'd left the team for the DA investigator job, but they'd all disagreed, insisting that he would always be a member of the team.
Erin smiled sadly. It was the last picture of the Intelligence team that she would ever be in, and she suspected that was the exact reason why Hank had somehow gotten a copy and hung it on his wall. She knew how hard it had been on him to let her go even though they both knew it was the only real option she'd had, and this just served as another reminder of how much her leaving had hurt those she'd left behind.
A knock on the front door startled her, pulling her out of her thoughts. Wrinkling her brow in confusion, she made her way to the front door, looking out the peephole. As far as she knew, no one knew that she was back in Chicago, so she couldn't imagine who would be knocking on Hank's door.
A gasp escaped Erin's lips as she saw who was at the door. She quickly stepped back, unlocking the door, and swinging it open. "You came back," she stated, her voice rough with emotion. "But what are you doing here?"
"Platt called me, and I knew I had to come," he replied. "I thought you might be here, and," he shrugged, "I wanted to make sure you were okay."
He held out his arms, and Erin stepped into them, gladly accepted the hug. The emotions she'd felt ever since receiving Platt's phone call overwhelmed her then, releasing a flood of tears.
"I'm so sorry, Erin," Antonio whispered, fighting back his own tears as he held the woman he'd always thought of as a sister in his arms, trying to comfort her through his own grief. "I know how much you loved him."
Erin stepped out of the taxi that had brought her to the church where the funeral would be held. She felt a sense of déjà vu; the last time she'd been at this church had been for Nadia's funeral, and she was wearing the same dress that she'd worn then. There were two differences, however. The first was that, for this funeral, the church would likely be packed with people whereas Nadia's funeral had been attended by only a handful of people outside of the Intelligence team. The second was that she was alone. Even while she was pushing them away, Hank, Jay, and the rest of the team had insisted on being there with her, supporting her. This time, however, she was ascending the stairs alone.
Her gaze swept over the crowd already gathered inside, many of them in uniform. So many had turned out to say a final goodbye to a man that they respected and considered a hero. There were familiar faces, but also plenty that she didn't recognize.
"Erin Lindsay? Is that you?" a familiar voice asked from behind her.
Erin turned around, a sad smile coming to her face when she recognized Mouse. "Hi, Mouse," she greeted him with a quick hug. "It's good to see you again," she told him. "I just wish it were under different circumstances."
"Me, too," Mouse replied, looking at her sympathetically. "How are you holding up?"
Erin shrugged. "You know," she replied vaguely. "I'm just trying to take each day as it comes." She shook her head. "I just can't believe he's gone."
"I know; I can't, either," Mouse stated sadly. "When Platt called to tell me…I almost didn't believe her at first."
"He thought a lot of you. I hope you know that," Erin told him softly. "I know it didn't seem like it when you left to rejoin the Army, but it's true."
"I know," Mouse assured her. Before he could continue, the music began to play. "I guess we should get to our seats," Mouse stated and Erin nodded, the two parting ways.
Erin started towards the front again, scanning the crowd in hopes of finding Antonio. When she finally spotted him, she was surprised to see him sitting with the rest of Intelligence. She shouldn't have been, of course; from what he'd told her yesterday, he'd stayed in touch with everyone after he'd left. But still, she'd hoped that his being there would mean that she wouldn't have to sit through the service alone.
She slipped into a pew a couple of rows behind the team. Even though she didn't feel comfortable intruding on them at a time like this, it still helped to be able to see the familiar figures that had been like family to her.
The officiant stepped up to the front of the church. "Good afternoon. Today, we gather with heavy hearts to pay our final respects and bid farewell to someone who has touched our lives in profound ways. As we gather here to mourn the loss of Sergeant…"
Erin found herself tuning him out as her eyes rested on the flag draped coffin at the front of the church. It was the first time since she'd entered that she'd allowed herself to look at it, and she felt a stab of pain in her heart. Until this moment, she hadn't let herself believe that it was real. She'd told herself that there was no way it was true, that he couldn't be dead. But seeing the casket sitting at the front of the church took away the last whisps of denial, and for the first time since she'd received the news, the grief of his death hit her full force.
Erin's attention was drawn back to the service when Atwater stepped to the front. "Not how did he die, but how did he live? Not what did he gain, but what did he give? These are the units to measure the worth of a man as a man, regardless of birth. Not, what was his church, nor what was his creed? But had he befriended those really in need? Was he ever ready, with a word of good cheer, to bring back a smile, to banish a tear? Not what did the sketch in the newspaper say, but how many were sorry when he passed away." He looked up from the paper he held in his hand. "He spent his whole life protecting others, and he gave his life saving another's. To all of us gathered here, this was not a surprising end. It was who he was, and who he would always be. It doesn't make it any easier to say goodbye to him, and it won't make me miss him any less. But I find some comfort in know that he died doing what he loved."
The rest of the funeral passed in a blur and soon it was time for the casket to be carried from the church. Atwater, Ruzek, Burgess, Upton, and a couple of other men that Erin didn't recognize made their way to the front of the church, where they picked the casket up from the platform it sat on and slowly made their way out of the church. They were followed by Platt and another familiar face, both of them stoic yet the signs of grief etched unto their faces.
Erin caught the eye of the man walking next to Platt as they passed by the pew where she was sitting. A look of sympathy filled his face and gave her a nearly imperceptible nod.
As those in attendance filed out of the church, Antonio found her. "How are you holding up?" he asked her. "You doing okay?"
Erin shook her head. "It's all so real now," she admitted softly. "I can't believe he's really gone."
Antonio wrapped an arm around her shoulders, guiding her to his rental car for the drive to the cemetery. "The team was asking about you," he informed her gently as he joined the line of cars.
"I didn't want to intrude," Erin admitted. "They loved him, too. I'm basically a stranger now. It's been over eight years since I've spoken to any of them. It doesn't even seem right for me to be here, much less for me to intrude on their grief."
"He would have wanted you here," Antonio insisted. "You and I both know that." He glanced over at Erin before turning his attention back to the road. "One of his biggest regrets was letting you leave, you know," he added gently. "He was never quite the same after you left."
"I didn't have a choice," Erin said softly. "I had to go."
"But you never came back. Not even for Al's funeral," Antonio prodded gently.
Erin sighed. "I wanted to. I wanted to be here so badly. But with everything that was going on…I didn't want to draw any more attention to Hank or the rest of the team." She paused and then added, "There were so many times that I thought about jumping on a plane to come back here for a visit. But I just couldn't. Coming back here would have meant leaving again, and I don't know that I would have been strong enough to do that."
Antonio nodded, understanding. He knew firsthand how hard it was to leave the city that you'd called home for your entire life, and how difficult it was to say goodbye to the people that were like a family to you. The circumstances for his departure had been different than Erin's, of course, but they'd both left because they couldn't stay in Chicago anymore, and they'd both left without saying goodbye.
Erin stepped out of the taxi, her eyes scanning the cemetery, searching for any familiar faces while she did so. She was fairly certain that she'd be alone here, as anyone else who would come here would likely still be at the reception that had followed the funeral, but she wanted to be sure.
Satisfied that she was alone, she made her way to the fresh grave. There was no headstone yet, obviously; just a simple marker provided by the funeral home with his name, his birthday, and the date of his death.
Tears began to fall once again as she knelt by his grave. "I'm so sorry," she murmured. "I'm sorry that I wasn't here for you when you needed me. I'm sorry that I left, and that I never came back to visit. I'm sorry that we didn't have more time together."
Sobs began to wrack her body as the pain and grief that she'd been holding back since she'd received the call from Platt finally hit her full force.
"Hello?" Erin had answered her phone, surprised to see Platt's name on the caller id.
"Erin, it's Sergeant Platt; I'm afraid I have some bad news."
Erin leaned back against the kitchen island, sinking to the floor as she listened to Platt break the news to her. The pot of water on the stove that she'd been boiling for dinner began to boil over, but she ignored it, in too much shock to care.
She had dreaded this call since the day she'd left Chicago. She'd known that it would eventually come. She knew that, with her leaving, he'd become less cautious and would hide from the pain by throwing himself into his work. She'd hoped desperately that she was wrong, and that the call would never come. But it had.
"Erin?" a male voice asked as someone crouched down beside her, resting their hand on her back.
Erin looked up, surprised that anyone else would be here. "What are you doing here?" she asked. "Shouldn't you be at the reception still with everyone else?"
He shook his head. "I thought you might be here. I wanted to make sure that you were okay."
"I don't know that I'll ever be okay again," Erin admitted tearfully. "I left. I left him, and I never came back. Maybe if I hadn't left…"
"You can't do that," he told her. "You can't blame yourself for his death. It's not your fault."
"But if I'd been here…" Erin began.
"If you'd been here, he would have made the same decisions. It's who he was, Erin. Nobody and nothing could have changed that," he insisted.
"How am I supposed to go on without him?" Erin whispered. "I've lived the past eight years without him, but I was able to get through it, because I told myself that it was better this way. But now…how do I keep going?"
"You're one of the strongest women I know, Erin. If anyone can get through this, you can," he stated gently. "But you don't have to do this alone."
"I wanted to use," Erin admitted quietly. "After Platt called me, I wanted nothing more than to go out and find a dealer and get high to escape from the pain. It's the first time since…since Nadia…since we lost her, that I've felt that way. And I feel like I betrayed him."
"But you didn't. You resisted that urge. You didn't betray him," he replied.
Erin let out a sigh, wiping away the tears that had streamed down her cheeks. "I'm sorry I left," she said softly, turning to face the man next to her. "I know I hurt you. I hurt all of them. I didn't even say goodbye."
"You did what you had to do. There was nothing left for you here. If you'd stayed, you would have lost your badge, maybe even faced charges," he argued.
"There was love," Erin replied softly. "And family. But I threw that all away when I did what I did. I still don't regret it; I did what I had to do in order to find out where that boy was. But I wish things could have been different."
"Me, too," he admitted. "But we can't live in the what if's. We have to live with the choices that we made."
Erin nodded and, with one last look at the grave, stood up. "Thank you for coming to check on me," she told the man.
"I will always be here for you, no matter what," he assured her. "I'm with you until the wheels come off."
As he and Erin walked away from the grave, his arm wrapped around her shoulders, she took one last glance back at the grave of Sergeant First Class Jay Halstead, formerly Detective Jay Halstead. She had never stopped loving him, even all of these years later, and now she was certain that she never would. "Let's go home, Hank," she said softly.