Chapter One

Hailey expected to feel a tidal wave of sadness and anger and pure fucking heartbreak the second that black wedding band was off her finger.

She expected to scream until her throat bled.

She expected to throw the ring across the living room in pure, seething anger fueled by the heartbreak that had settled in the pit of her stomach like a boulder.

What she definitely didn't expect was to feel absolutely nothing.

Was she sad? Of course. She was already sad merely from the day she'd had, from being at the hospital and wanting her husband beside her so fucking badly that she nearly called him even though she knew he wouldn't answer.

She was already sad because she'd sat there in that cold hospital emergency bay and tried to stop herself from imagining what Jay would have done had he been there in that room with her.

Held her hand.

Asked her if she was okay 3,120 times.

Asked his brother for updates every 2.5 seconds.

Refused to leave her even to go to the damn bathroom.

Tried to convince her to sleep while they waited for her to be — hopefully — discharged.

Winced while she flinched as they examined her, his fingers finding every single bit of bare skin he could appropriately touch and that wasn't marred by the attack somehow so he could rub his fingers across it in a Jay-style attempt to comfort her and let him know he was there.

At least her Jay would have. The Jay that had left for Bolivia?

Not so sure.

Seeing Hailey in pain — emotional or physical — was once the worst thing on this earth for Jay. All Hailey had to do was cry a single tear or even show signs of being about to cry one (usually an unintentional chin quiver) during an argument or at a crime scene or in the interrogation room or even during a damn movie, and it was over.

It was pretty damned ironic now that Hailey thought about it, because now it was Jay himself who was causing a hell of a lot more emotional pain than anyone or anything in her adult life ever had. The last person she thought would ever leave her or hurt her had done exactly that.

And now, Hailey was sitting on their couch with dried tears drenching her bruised face, in their otherwise dark and empty home, her wedding band enclosed in her folded hand.

The very wedding band the love of her life had slipped onto her finger all those months ago before they'd gone home and fallen into their bed. Before he'd made her come so hard, so many times she thought she'd black out and she'd made him groan gutturally with every single movement of her mouth and roll of her hips.

They'd laid in bed afterwards, bodies tingling and covered in sweat, Hailey tucked into Jay's side. He'd picked up her left hand numerous times to stare at the ring that matched his, the most dorky, happy grin on his face. She'd made light fun of him for it and he'd tickled her bare side where he knew she was most ticklish.

She'd kicked his shin and he'd moved his hand to her hip and then to her still-bare ass, squeezing it hard. It had ignited another fire in her belly and she'd pulled him on top of her, feeling him growing hard again. And then he'd slipped back inside her and they'd gone the second of countless rounds that night. In the end it was 6:15 AM and they were boneless and exhausted, but neither gave a shit.

Everything was as close to perfect as it could've been for them at that moment.

Now, for Hailey sitting on the couch clutching that damn wedding band, everything couldn't be further from perfect. She felt like she was in a nightmare.

She'd just been tased and knocked out and kidnapped and tied up. She'd been asked which of her hands she wanted chopped off. She'd been damn near certain she was going to die on that cold floor, bleeding to death from where her hand used to be or from a slit throat. She'd been thrown into a car, had to use the string from her sweatpants to attempt strangle one of her captors, causing him to crash the car they were in, and even that didn't slow him down much, let alone kill him. He still nearly killed her in the end, but as she always seemed to, she found a way to save herself.

She'd just wanted Jay. She'd wanted Jay to be with the team when they came to get her. She knew that even the Jay that had left for Bolivia — completely different from the man she'd fallen in love with and married — would have nearly broken a leg getting to her. He would've asked her if she was hurt before moving her and with a single shake of her head, he would've taken her into his arms, holding her as tightly as he could without hurting her any more than her captors already had.

And God knows later he would've asked if they'd sexually assaulted her.

(She was unbelievably thankful she would have been able to truthfully tell him they hadn't.)

Of course, there had been no Jay with them. Even in her concussed, terrified state, choking from nearly being strangled and covered in both her and her captor's blood, she'd known good and well he wouldn't be there to hold her. She was unbelievably thankful for the team, for the bond they all shared and the way that they loved her more than her blood family ever had, and she'd literally never been more happy to see them.

But she wanted her fucking husband, and now here she was, unable to reach him for another twelve hours (and probably not even then), tears streaming down her aching, bruised face, holding her wedding ring in her hand.

Hailey stared at the fist in which her wedding band was enclosed for easily twenty more minutes, opening and closing her hand over and over as if she were waiting for emotion, any emotion, to hit her when she saw the black band in her palm.

It never did, and it occurred to her that maybe she was emotionally tapped out. For the day, for the week… for life. Who knew?

All Hailey did know was that she had never felt so exhausted in her life, physically and emotionally, and that her bruises and headache were intensifying again.

On shaky legs, she stood and walked over to the dresser in their bedroom. She grabbed a necklace with a long chain, took off the meaningless charm that was on it, then looked back at the ring in her hand. She took a deep breath, followed by another.

She tried her damnedest not to look at the photos on the top of the dresser.

(She always looked.)

After finally slipping the ring onto the chain, Hailey didn't put the chain around her neck; she didn't trust herself not to rip it off and put the ring back on. She had promised herself as she cradled the ring in her palm on the couch that she wouldn't put it back on until — or unless — Jay came back to her.

Even then, it would take some time for her to feel okay putting it back on again, because things wouldn't be the same as that night he'd slipped it onto her finger, and it didn't feel right to put it back on otherwise.

So she held the silver chain in her hand for a moment before carefully laying it in their top dresser drawer and closing it. A tear slipped from her right eye, and for the first time since taking the ring off, Hailey felt a pang of emotion, which was pure, bone-deep heartbreak.

But honestly, she'd take that over feeling absolutely nothing.

Before she could change her mind about where she left it, Hailey slowly shuffled out of their bedroom to the kitchen cabinet where they'd stashed all their medicine. She sorted through Advil, Midol, extra strength Excedrin Migraine, and finally, their ridiculously large bottle of Tylenol. She knew she couldn't take anything but the Tylenol until after the 48-hour mark (concussion protocol), and she wasn't hopeful any of the other meds would relieve her head and body aches.

Then, her thoughts turned to the prescription pain pills she had in that very kitchen cabinet, the ones they'd prescribed her after the explosion the day she'd shot Anna. Her head and neck had hurt so badly that she'd finally given in and accepted them.

She moved the other bottles aside and found the prescription bottle. As her fingers wrapped around it, she read the name on the label:

Halstead, Hailey Anne

Tears stung Hailey's eyes as she ran her thumb over the letters. Reading "Halstead" before her first and middle name hurt more than it should.

Obviously, that was still technically her last name, but she felt like it didn't belong to her anymore.

That fucking stung.

After shoving the pain pills back into the cabinet and dumping a few Tylenol into her aching hand, she swallowed them with a giant gulp of water, then gave the kitchen a good look-over. There weren't dishes to distract herself with, because she hadn't been eating much except takeout. There wasn't anything else to clean up in the entire house, really, because she hardly lived there.

She really only went there to shower, occasionally sleep and eat, and cry.

Her eyes were burning from exhaustion and she gave up trying to find a reason not to have to go back to their bedroom. She slept on the couch some nights just to escape having to look at their bed and avoid glancing at Jay's side.

(She always glanced. It was like a knife in the gut every time.)

It was impossible to look at their bed and not remember the countless nights (and mornings) they'd spent tangled up together, either making each other fall apart or just being, their hands wandering and fingers memorizing every single inch of each others' bodies.

Jay always seemed to be memorizing the bumps of Hailey's spine and the lines of her ribcage (it made her skin tingle), unless he wanted to go another round; then he would trace his calloused fingers on the underside of her breast or drag his fingernails down her neck to her pulse point.

Hailey always found herself tracing Jay's collar bones and the perfect line of his jaw; if she wanted to start something, she'd kiss that jawline instead of trace it with her fingers and then work her way down to those collar bones, occasionally nipping them with her teeth, then soothing the sting with her tongue.

When Hailey had been naïve and thought Jay was for sure coming back within the eight months (maybe a little longer), she would look at their bed and heat would shoot straight to her core thinking about those nights and mornings.

Now, all she felt was sadness and anger at the thought, and the anger was directed at herself, and Jay, and Voight, and her captors… the list went on. They were all different kinds of anger — that much was clear to her — but they were swirling together inside her, threatening to eat her alive.

She wasn't sure she had the strength to fight them right now, and that scared her.

Hailey couldn't lie and say she hadn't considered taking the ring off. There had been a time or two when she had been particularly angry at Jay for leaving her that she'd considered taking it off, and there had also been a time or two when she had taken it off for whatever reason and considered not putting it back on.

Nevertheless, now that the ring was off her finger and she didn't feel any different, she was able to truly feel her anger at Voight for manipulating her again by essentially telling her it was okay to give up on her marriage. A large part of her held him responsible for Jay leaving, although she knew that was a decision that Jay made when it came down to it.

But she also knew that he wouldn't have been pushed so close to the edge had it not been for Voight.

It's okay to let go if you're the only one fighting.

Honestly, in the end, Hailey felt like it was those words that convinced her to take the ring off, because she was the only one fighting, or at least it felt like it (if Jay was fighting, honestly, he could've fooled her). And the ring was just a reminder that the Jay who had put that ring on her finger that day was no longer fighting for her, while she was fighting tooth and nail.

It doesn't mean you don't love him.

Voight had been right about that, she'd admit. The second that ring was off, not a goddamn thing changed about how much she loved Jay. She definitely hadn't taken it off because she thought that love would change.

It just means you love you, too.

That one was just plain wrong.

She didn't love herself. In fact, she'd never hated herself more.

Taking off that ring was not an act of self-care or self-love. That much Hailey was sure of.

Voight had tried to use his power and classic Hank Voight manipulation tactics to get into her head when she was vulnerable, and now the ring was on a chain in their bedroom.

Suddenly, the thought of his face and the echo of those words in Hailey's head made her sick.

She stood on the threshold between the living room and their bedroom, and she felt nauseous as the reality of everything that had happened that day hit her like a damn Mack truck.

Before it could hit her fully, Hailey hauled ass back to the kitchen and grabbed the nearly-empty bottle of whiskey Will had gifted them when they'd moved in, her fingers aching as she gripped the bottle tightly. She poured herself far too much (even she would admit it) into what had become her favorite glass to drink hard liquor out of when she came home to an empty house.

Which was every night that she came home instead of sleeping at the district or, on the bad nights, in her car.

Tonight, she had washed the blood out of her hair and off her face, but she hadn't taken the shower she needed — one that would scrub the feeling of her captors' hands off of her and scald her skin.

So she walked to their en-suite bathroom, glass in hand, taking a long pull of liquor and undressing. She didn't even look at Jay's side of the bathroom counter as she stepped into the stall.

Hailey didn't regularly drink in the shower, but tonight she couldn't find a fuck to give. Not a single one. She took sip after sip, in fact, not even wincing anymore when the liquor burned its way down her throat.

She held the glass in her left hand and braced herself against the shower wall with her right as the blazing hot water poured down on her.

Even when he had her pressed up against the shower wall, hands wandering and kissing her like his life depended on it, Jay would scold her for showering in such hot water.

As she finished off her whiskey, she turned the water as hot as it would go and watched as the water that swirled around the drain turned rust-colored from the blood and dirt that was still under her nails and in the small crevices of her skin.

By the time she got it all out and scrubbed her body raw, Hailey was beyond numb; she was exhausted. She was a type of tired she could've sworn she'd never been. It was all-consuming and her legs were wobbly as she stepped out of the shower.

All she had energy for was using the bathroom and brushing her teeth before slowly dragging herself into their bedroom. Typically, even with Jay gone, she would have put lotion on, maybe watched an episode or two of Friends, plugged in her phone, and flopped into bed.

Not tonight. There was no way in hell she had even one tenth of the energy required to do any of that besides the bed part.

So she didn't do any of the rest. She just slowly pulled the covers on their bed back and got in, not even glancing at Jay's spot for once, turning onto her right side before she could.

She'd gotten used to Jay's arms not being around her while she slept anymore, but tonight, as she lay with her head aching and her lip split and ligature marks around her wrists and a concussion-fueled headache, she missed that feeling of safety that merely his presence brought worse than she ever thought possible.

And that made her hate herself even more.

…

She only slept an hour and fourteen minutes total that first night.

The pain in her head was increasing, and she didn't need the concussion protocol sheet they'd given her at the hospital to tell her that wasn't supposed to be the case.

Hailey had had enough concussions in her life to know concussion protocol. She didn't need the damn sheet, period. She'd been in law enforcement for ten years with more head injuries than she could count, and had had at least two concussions at the hands of her father as a child. She knew what to do and what not to do, and she knew what was and wasn't normal.

Pain from a concussion increasing even after what seemed like thirty Tylenol was definitely not in the "normal" category.

She also knew from experience that she should have someone there with her, waking her every few hours to make sure she wasn't deteriorating.

Last time, of course, it had been Jay.

She'd smacked her head on concrete chasing a suspect and even though Will had assured them over and over that it could hardly even be classified as a concussion, Jay had woken her far more often than he needed to, asked her questions that got on her nerves to make sure she was still with it, then kissed her temple and soothed her back to sleep.

Now, laying in their bed in the middle of the damn night, in pain and too dizzy to walk to the bathroom even though her bladder was screaming again, Hailey would've given a kidney to have Jay there hovering over her and getting on her nerves.

That stupid saying, "you don't know what you've got until it's gone," was, in truth, not stupid at all. Now Hailey was realizing it couldn't be more accurate.

Hell, she was living it.

She never went back to sleep the first night after that one-hour, 14-minute stretch.

She realized around four hours after she'd woken — her clock read 5:03 — that the Tylenol wasn't working, either; at least, not for her head. Her overall body aches had dulled a bit, but the pain in her head just kept getting worse.

Briefly, Hailey considered calling Will to ask what she should do. Picked up her phone, even, her finger hovering over her brother-in-law's name.

But she couldn't bring herself to click on it.

In true Hailey Upton Halstead fashion, she chose to handle it alone, even if that was the last thing she needed.

…

For the next 48 hours, after taking the maximum amount of Tylenol and eventually Advil allowed, using ice packs, staying away from blue light (except for what TV she could tolerate), and resting as much as she possibly could, Hailey didn't feel any better, physically and definitely not mentally.

In fact, she felt worse. Her headache had plateaued again for a bit and then worsened again, and then that cycle had repeated.

In the 48 hours since she'd gotten home, Hailey had slept for nine of them.

Obviously, she knew the lack of sleep was intensifying everything. Instead of sleeping or eating — she couldn't bring herself to do either — she had scrolled through Netflix and Hulu mindlessly and occasionally checked her phone only long enough to make sure Jay hadn't called.

(There was that self-hatred again.)

48 hours. Jay was back inside the wire again, if the information she'd gotten was correct.

His wife had been kidnapped and very nearly killed, and in 48 hours, nothing. Not even a text message. So she'd tossed her phone to the other end of the couch and ignored it the best she could.

Her eyes kept drifting to her empty ring finger.

More self-hatred coming in hot.

She had to repeatedly force herself to look away and flipped the TV back on. The light from it hurt her head, but not as badly as the rush of emotion she figured would likely come if she kept staring at her hand.

Kim called around 2:30 and asked if Hailey would be up for her bringing Bartoli's over for dinner. Hailey was hesitant, not because she didn't want to see Kim, but because she knew Kim would immediately see that there was more going on than just a concussion and her typical insomnia.

But it was Kim, and it was Bartoli's, and it was a distraction. A distraction from her physical pain and, hopefully, Kim wouldn't bring up Jay and Hailey could be distracted from that pain as well.

Kim also stressed that she could use some company and was going insane at home as well, even with Makayla as a distraction.

So Hailey agreed, for both her sake and Kim's, and they settled on six for Kim to come over, only hanging up when Kim had to go take care of something for Makayla.

Hailey was excited to see her and to have some interaction with another human, but Kim was the person on the team she was most comfortable with (besides pre-Bolivia Jay), and she knew that if Kim brought up Jay in any serious capacity, she would crumble completely and tell Kim everything.

She'd tell Kim that Jay hadn't called or even texted once since he was supposed to have been able to be in communication again. Since his wife had been kidnapped and damn near killed. 48 fucking hours, and nothing.

She'd tell Kim that her concussion headache was getting worse by the second, no matter how much Tylenol or — after the first 48 hours, per concussion protocol — Advil she took. No matter how many ice packs she went through. No matter how much blue light she avoided.

And worst of all?

She'd tell Kim that Hank fucking Voight had given her marriage advice, and she'd taken it, and that that was why her wedding band was in a damned drawer, as if it meant nothing.

As if it never had.

…

Hailey managed to actually doze off around 4:30 and didn't wake up until the DVR box clock read 5:43 PM.

Shit.

It hit her almost the second she woke up that Kim would be there in fifteen minutes, or possibly less if she knew Kim Burgess at all (and she definitely did).

She sat up far too quickly and her head was immediately spinning, the pain between her eyes so intense that they stung with tears.

As Hailey stood on wobbly legs to walk to the bathroom, the room seemed to tilt and she had to grab onto their bedroom door frame to keep herself from falling to the floor. Her stomach lurched and bile filled her mouth. She slapped her hand over it and somehow managed to make it to the en-suite bathroom.

She barely got to the toilet before she was heaving into it, her throat burning as the very little that was in her stomach came up, followed by straight-up bile and then dry heaving so painful she thought her ribs might crack.

When she was sure she was done, Hailey flushed the toilet and slumped back on the tile, her head pounding so hard she could feel it in her ears, which were ringing again.

As she sat on the cold bathroom tile, in pain and so weak she wasn't sure she could get back up, Hailey was conflicted — should she try to get up and get to her phone so she could call Kim to cancel? Wait for Kim to get there and try to act like nothing was wrong?

Again, she was hit with that bone-deep longing for Jay, even though she knew damn well he would pick her up off the floor and either call Will or take her to Med himself.

Before she could sit and dwell on it for much longer, Hailey heard a ringing sound, though it was muffled through the high-pitched ring that was already in her ears.

"Dammit," she muttered, and it felt odd,like her tongue was too big for her mouth.

Pulling herself further up onto her knees, she tried to gauge what the noise was. Even though it was almost time for Kim to get there, it didn't sound like the doorbell. It sounded closer, and it was continuing in quick succession.

In her disoriented state, it took easily half a minute more for Hailey to realize what it was — her phone. Her phone was still at the end of the couch, and it was ringing.

It was ringing Jay's ringtone.

It was as if her body moved completely instinctively, the thought of Jay calling her bringing her to her feet. She took two quick steps and the dizziness hit her again, accompanied by her vision blacking out around the edges. She knew that was beyond bad, but she had to get to her phone.

So she went on, grabbing onto everything she could to get to the living room. When she finally did, she collapsed to the floor next to the couch, out of breath and chest heaving, head pounding and ears filled with that dreadful keening sound. Her fingers wrapped around her phone, and she dropped it twice before she finally got it to where she could see it.

Sure enough, the caller ID flashed Jay Halstead.

Hailey's heart started to pound even faster — she didn't even think that was possible — and she could feel it in her ears and in the tips of her fingers. With her shaky left hand, she pressed the green "accept" button and put it on speakerphone, not sure she could hear it well enough if she pressed the phone flush to her ear.

Before she could say anything, Hailey heard the voice she'd been waiting to hear for far too long.

"Hails? It's me. They just filled me in… I'm so fucking sorry. Are you alright? Are you-"

Hailey heard nothing after that. Jay's voice became completely muffled, the phone fell to the floor, and her vision started to fade even more. She managed to get out the words, "I need help," though they were muffled and slurred, before she fell to her knees and the world faded to black.