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Jay came back to the office two hours later bypassing Voight and heading right to the board. Ignoring the ache in his lower back and hopefully hiding it from the group, he pinned up a picture of someone in Spencer's crew they could probably get to flip.
"Charlie Booker. He's in Milwaukee right now. My guy says he'll be back by tomorrow night. He'll give us a heads up."
Jay just stood there, hands on his hips waiting for Voight to make the next move.
"Be back tomorrow morning, seven o'clock. We've been going nonstop for the last 36 hours. We won't catch them if we're dead on our feet."
Voight then turned his attention to Halstead before anyone could even begin to pack up. They all watched the stare down, Voight's eyes flamed with 'you're still benched' and Jay, not intimidated in the least, blazed right back with the opposite. When he was done with Voight, Jay did a fiery sweep of the room and disappeared down the steps hoping his anger successfully hid the pain.
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Jay hadn't wanted to go home. He wanted to keep working the case, but knew he'd be useless if he didn't get some sleep. And though he hated to admit it, he was hanging on by a thread.
Dragging himself to the bedroom, he eased down to the bed, relieved he didn't have to hide how he was feeling and could just feel like shit in peace.
He toed off his shoes, leaned forward elbows to knees and closed his eyes. Physical pain aside, everything that went down with the team was hitting home. Everything with Will. They didn't believe him. They actually thought he would risk the case, risk their chance to nail Spencer.
Shaking off those thoughts, he curled himself to standing and made his way to the bathroom to grab the old, hopefully not expired, bottle of Vicodin in the medicine cabinet.
He stripped to his boxer briefs, slid into bed with a pained, "fuuuck" and debated taking three tablets, desperate to turn off his brain, but only took two. In his desire to shut down painful thinking along with the physical pain, over medicating might mute his spinning thoughts on the case and he couldn't afford that, couldn't afford to miss an epiphany, no matter how miserable he felt.
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The Next Morning
Platt was doing paperwork and looked up when she sensed someone standing in front of her.
"Voight told me to report to you."
The look on her face might have been funny if this whole thing didn't suck shit.
"What?!"
The kid didn't answer her, but even with a split lip, black eye and the numerous cuts and scrapes that graced his indifferent mask, she could see it was killing him to be standing there in his blues.
"Wait here."
Jay sighed and watched her stomp up the steps to Intelligence. Then, forced to give in to his traitorous body, he walked into the empty office across from Platt's desk, stepped out of sight and dry swallowed a Vicodin, hoping one would do the trick.
He put his hands on his knees and pulled in a slow breath, hoping the meds would kick in quickly.
When he could wipe all signs of discomfort from his face, he stood up as straight as possible, walked into the lobby and eased himself down on the nearest bench.
He rubbed his forehead and scanned the room to see if anyone had witnessed his pained trip into and out of the office. The only one who seemed to notice was a young officer standing at the desk.
With no words but a glare to rival Platt's, he silently ordered the gawking rookie to keep his mouth shut. When he was certain the rookie had reached the right amount of terrified, he closed his eyes, leaned his head back and waited for Platt to return from her failed mission.
X
The team was gathered at the board when Trudy marched up the steps, "Uh, Hank, why is your number two standing at my desk with his blues on?"
"I told him to report to you."
Everyone was silent. They'd heard the conversation between Jay and Voight and didn't really think Voight was serious, but Jay knew him better than anyone in the unit and showed up in his blues. Jay knew he was serious but left anyway.
Platt was beside herself, "What the hell Hank?!"
He sighed, "Send him out Trudy. I'll talk to him after his shift."
She pinned him with a glare that would have most people quaking in their boots…but not Hank Voight.
"I'm not done with you…."
"I expected as much…send him out."
She could only shake her head. Jay did something incredibly stupid, she got that, but this was an idiotic move on Hank's part. Write the kid up or suspend him later but for now they needed Jay working the case.
X
Jay had swallowed a groan and stood when he heard Platt huffing back down the stairs. He knew Trudy went charging up to Intelligence on his behalf but also knew it wouldn't do any good…
…that didn't mean he wasn't going to work the case though.
When she got to the bottom of the steps, she barked at one of her more promising rookies, "NELSON!"
"Sarge?"
"You're with Halstead…"
The kid's eyes popped out of his head…he was going out with Halstead?
He had been caught eyeballing the detective while waiting for his sergeant to return and wondered why Halstead was in uniform and why he was beat to hell and why he got a death glare from him for noticing it.
She gave the keys to the kid, "You're driving…Halstead'll be out in a sec."
X
Jay stood at the desk while Trudy went to the back and came out a couple of minutes later with a laptop and handed it over without a word.
He gave her a half smile with his split lip, letting her know he appreciated what she was doing - giving him the go to still work the case and left for the garage.
She watched Jay walk slowly away and all she could do was shake her head.
"Goddamit Hank…"
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That evening
Voight said he would talk to Jay after shift but didn't, causing Trudy to stomp up the steps again, ignoring the team and heading straight for Hank's office, shutting the door behind her.
"I thought you were going to talk to the kid?"
He ignored her question and asked one of his own.
"How's he doing?"
"Fine. He's doing just fine. Thank God he's out there writing speeding tickets and breaking up drunk and disorderliness. I feel safer already."
Voight didn't respond just smirked at her sarcasm.
"So this isn't you just being a prick and teaching the kid a lesson, this is you being a colossal prick and actually kicking him out."
He shrugged, "He'd already fucked up and then was insubordinate on top of it."
"You need him on this case Hank. Sure he messed up…"
"And more kid's died…"
"Come on Hank. You know that's bullshit, you all know that's bullshit. There'll be dime bags of his crap out on the street for months after we get this guy."
"And every day until we do more of that poison is flooding the streets. I'm not budging on this Trudy, give it up."
X
He hadn't returned the computer at the end of his shift, but took it home to work the case, combing through everything they had while he waited for his CI to call.
Just before nine, it came in. Booker was back from Milwaukee and playing poker with a bunch of shitheads in Canaryville, one of which being another of Spencer's underlings, one a little higher up the food chain.
X
Later
As soon as he dropped anchor, he texted Voight with the info. He knew Voight would go in without him and that couldn't happen, so if he got there first.
I'm holding on southwest corner of Brooks and 3rd Street
Go home Halstead. That's an order.
No. My CI will be there. Blackhawks jersey. He won't run but'll resist with language when cuffed.
X
Hands on his knees and butt against the truck, Jay hung his head breathing through the pain while he waited for the rest of the team to arrive. He had five ibuprofen, not the desired Vicodin, coursing uselessly through his body. Having a clear head was more important than relieving a little discomfort.
He straightened up with a groan and put on his game face when he heard the team approaching. He was fine.
Right off the bat he was met with snark from Adam.
"Thanks for waiting."
So much for that half assed heart felt apology.
The rest of the team were silently indifferent to his presence as they went over their plan to breech, and even though Voight kept his anger in check, a glare drove home the fact he was only being tolerated for the moment.
X
The information was solid and they busted the two members of Spencer's crew along with some unknowns and Jay's CI. In addition to that, they confiscated four bricks of Gemini.
But the bust wasn't as clean as they wanted. Jay took a bullet to his upper arm, a through and through. And though the bullet wound was somewhat painful, the impact on his already fucked up body and the subsequent blow to his aching head when he tackled Kevin out of the way hurt a hell of a lot more.
X
Sporting a new, somewhat bloody bandage on his forehead, Jay sat sideways on the gurney successfully hiding the all encompassing ache in his body and the uptick of it in his lower back while trying not to look concussed as Sylvie checked his eyes, "…Definitely a concussion, mild one…I need to look at your arm."
He knew he wouldn't get away with ignoring her request, so he begrudgingly lifted his henley and groaned when he pulled his arm out, partially because it hurt but mostly because some of his bruises would be on full display to the unit.
Seeing the contusions when he lifted the hem, Sylvie took over, gently removed the shirt herself and sighed when she realized, given the coloring, they were from yesterday had left out some pertinent information when she checked him over.
Hailey and Voight reacted before his shirt was even half way off. Concern rang in Hailey's tone, but was peppered with exasperation and Voight's growl was loud and absent of worry. In fact he sounded like he wanted to add more bodily injury to what was already there.
"Oh my God Jay!"
"What the hell happened?"
He tilted his head, glanced at his partner then glared at his boss, not believing he had to explain it to them since he had a black eye, split lip and a shit load of scrapes and bruises on his face from the same event.
"What happened?" he started with a raised eyebrow, "I got tackled down a flight of stairs by a 250 pound asshole while trying to protect a kid that 'doesn't exist.'"
By the time he was finished with his short pain laced tirade, his shirt was sitting beside him on the stretcher giving them a full view of his bruised arms and torso…and the almost black bruise center mass where, curtesy of Spencer, he had taken one to the vest.
"Jesus Jay!"
He didn't respond to Adam, too busy holding his breath and trying not to groan as Sylvie checked his ribs for breaks while her partner took care of his arm.
Adam gave a minute shake of his head as he circled Jay from the periphery. His journey started at the dark bruise on Jay's chest then traveled to the almost black bruise across his lower back that Sylvie was currently palpating and finally landed on the lighter one at the base of his neck…Shit. Halstead got lucky.
The rest of Intelligence was scattered around him exchanging glances now that they had a clear view of the dark bruises he was sporting. None of them knew what to say or do. Holding anger and worry at and for Jay left them in a quandary, so they remained quiet spectators to the scene playing out before them.
"Jay…"
He didn't want to hear it and tuned out his partner, focusing instead on Sylvie.
Hailey scanned the rest of the team then settled on Jay again. She couldn't believe he'd been working in the shape he was in. He had to be in an enormous amount of pain.
"Jay…"
Again he ignored one source of his anger or sadness or disappointment or whatever the fuck he was feeling, and talked to one of the two people in the immediate vicinity he wasn't pissed at, Sylvie and her partner.
"I'm fine, Sylvie. I good to go?"
She shook her head, "Sorry Jay. Not this time. You hit your head yesterday and now you took another blow to it. You also have a bullet wound."
"It's practically a graze."
Taken aback, Kevin pointed to the bloody bandage encircling his bicep, "Pretty sure a graze is on the outside of your body, bro. There's a tunnel through your arm."
Jay looked at Kevin with disbelief, 'bro?' then at Voight when he started barking out the game plan.
"I'll take him. Wrap things up here then head back to the district."
Exasperated he was going to the ER and being driven there by Voight while someone else drove his truck back to the district, he shook his head and ticked himself off when the action made him dizzy.
He slid off the gurney, grabbed his shirt and yanked it on while he stalked to his truck for a hoody. There was no way in hell he would let them see the pain he failed to wipe off his face at the movement or hear the fucking groan that escaped from his lips.
Knowing adrenaline would only get him so far and he needed to pull off feeling better than he looked, he dry swallowed two Vicodin as soon as he was out of their line of sight and nearly choked on them he was so pissed.
This goddamn son of a bitching battle he'd let go. There would be other, more important ones with this case than going to the ER and more than likely running into his brother.
He ignored his boss for the entire ride. Hurt, tired and fed up, he hid his disappointment behind anger; and even though he knew it was childish, he hoped he got blood on Voight's fucking seats.
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Okey dokey. Chapter 3 is set free. I hope you liked it. See you next Thursday.
Stay safe peeps. Big smooch!