A/N
Sections in Italics are other people's thoughts, texts or their side of the conversation with Jay.
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Jay was feeling better physically 20 minutes into the shower but the water rolling off of him did nothing for the emotional shit.
They had been so close to getting Spencer, then he lost him. There wasn't anything he could have done differently but to them he blew it. He knew more than anything they were all just tired, stressed…desperate, and that was driving their feelings, their treatment toward him, but even with that hopeful reasoning, their lack of trust was excruciating…Hailey's lack of trust…
The embarrassment and despair he'd felt when he was locked out of the bullpen surged through him again and he cringed knowing that even though he tried to hide it, Platt saw it…then sent him home.
Dammit
Stretching his arms out, he put his hands on the tile and hung his head, letting the hot water slide down his body while trying to empty his head of the things that hurt.
He wished he could talk to Will but his brother was on the same page as the rest of them.
"Dammit!"
He slammed his palm against the wall over and over again.
"Dammit dammit dammit!"
His anger sent pain ricocheting through his body. It bounced off every bruise and brought him to his knees.
'Fuck' he groaned into the steam and sat back on his heels, willing the stars blinking in the rain of water to disappear. Too long later, he was finally able to struggle to his feet, pulling himself up on the slick walls of the shower.
Turning up the heat, he tried to reclaim the bit of relief he had found in the hot water and failed. He shut off the water with a hand trembling with pain and the loss of heat, wrapped a towel around his waist and stepped out of the shower to be met with his foggy reflection. His bruises were dark enough to be seen through the blur of the fogged up mirror and with a bit of trepidation, he wiped his hand over the glass and took himself in.
Shit.
He had a mother of a headache and his body was one big ball of agony but he could deal with that. The almost black bruising over his left kidney, however, concerned him…and not necessarily because there could be something more serious going on but because if it was more than just bruising, it could sideline him from the case. He couldn't be sidelined.
Twisting his arm around to his back, he didn't feel any rigidity which by the looks of the bruising was a miracle. So until his body told him otherwise and he hit the floor, he deemed himself fit for duty; then put on sweats and a t-shirt, took two Vicodin and laid down setting his alarm for two hours.
X
He stared at the screen of the CPD computer Platt had given him in disbelief, 'ACCESS DENIED'
Voight had deactivated his log in. There was only so much he could do without access to the files, he needed to be able to go over the pieces of the puzzle they'd already gathered.
He needed the pods so he could broaden the perimeter and set up a search running in the background expanding the time frame. It would take time and he needed to get it up and running asap. He had a feeling the kid hid close to the house and cleared out after they locked down the scene and that's why he wasn't showing up on the pods immediately after the bust.
He leaned back on the couch and clasped his hands on top of his head at a loss for what to do. Finally he sighed and bit the bullet, shooting off a text to Voight.
Can you reinstate my password? I'll work the case from here.
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You're benched and working your way to an official suspension. Stand down.
…
What happened to all hands on deck? I'm willing to work for free here Sarge.
He didn't get a reply back and was at the end of his rope. He walked into the kitchen to get a water and pop couple of ibuprofen. The Vicodin was wearing off but he needed to keep a clear head to weigh out his options. It only took a minute to realize he only had one left and he absolutely hated it but cringed and pushed the call button anyway.
"Voight"
"Sarge…" he was embarrassed at how desperate that sounded to his ears.
"I know you don't want me in the bullpen but…"
"I don't want you in my unit."
That left him speechless…he didn't think Voight would go to that extreme, would want to go to that extreme. Bench him, maybe suspend him as punishment, but he never thought…
Voight didn't believe for a second there was a kid. Halstead's insubordination was what got them to this place, and he no longer trusted him.
"You're a good detective Halstead, but going against orders gets people killed…got people killed. I'm not going to take the chance on that happening again."
"If I had followed your orders, we wouldn't have arrested two asshole's to flip. We wouldn't have pulled four bricks off the street if I had followed your orders Voight, and more kids would be dying."
"That's already happening Halstead…"
"That's on Spencer not me. I lost him in the house…I'll admit it. I lost him and I shouldn't have…" he wasn't sure if he believed that, but Voight had a way of getting in your head and fanning the flames of your insecurities, "…but it was either go in or have a dead kid on my conscience."
"Well, now you'll have more than one. Spencer's still out there peddling his poison."
Voight knew it was a low blow and knew it found its mark by the sharp intake of breath. When he got no reply he hung up. Jay was insubordinate and goddammit that didn't fly with him and if he couldn't get it through his thick skull, he would drive it through the kid's heart before he killed himself or someone else.
X
Jay hung up the phone and rehashed the painful conversation with his boss that came to absolutely fucking nothing, except giving Voight the opportunity to drive home something he already knew. More kids would die.
Even when they wrapped up the case with Spencer dead or in jail, Voight's feelings, the unit's feelings toward him wouldn't change…and damn if he didn't see their point, but they were basing everything on a supposed lie and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.
He rubbed his temples and sat back on his couch with a groan. His pain level was edging toward 10 and the desperation to work the case with the team and the resources they had, were right there with it.
They needed all hands on deck but Voight didn't have to cave for the sake of the case because Voight knew damn well he wouldn't stop working on it with or without his permission, with or without access to what they had, until they got Spencer.
He was disappointed but wouldn't let Voight's continued punishment slow him down, so he texted Trudy. He knew she didn't believe him either, but she did give him the computer to work the case while he was out on patrol. In her mind probably trying to help him right his 'wrong.' It was the way she rolled.
Sarge, Voight locked me out. Can you help me out here? I need access to what we have.
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You okay? Your brother's worried. You held back quite a bit of information when you went to the ER.
He rolled his eyes. He was fucking fine and worked through worse.
I'm fine Sarge. Worked through worse.
She knew that but was still worried that he was hurt worse than he was letting on and because of the case would hurt himself further.
Can't reinstate your code. D216396387
He put the code in and it was her's.
Blowing out a relieved breath, he texted her back.
Thanks Sarge.
X
Later
He had been digging through case notes all morning. Physical evidence was next to nothing except baggies of drugs found at the scene with only the victims prints. He was frustrated to be getting nowhere but the stuff they had was shit so he wasn't surprised.
Hailey's call interrupted him just when he started to go through everything a second time but he ignored it. It was immediately followed by a text asking if he was okay. He sent back a text that would become his standard response:
I'm fine. I'll let you know if I get anything.
He got another text a couple of hours later from Kevin.
You okay man? Will's worried, we're worried.
I'm fine. I'll let you know if I get anything.
Shaking his head, he blew out a breath heavy with too many emotions. He knew Will was worried and would've shown up by now if he could have but the ER was probably stacked since he'd only just gotten a call from his brother a half hour ago. He sent the call to voice mail and it was immediately followed by an avalanche of texts. He responded once.
I'm fine. I'll call you if I need a doctor.
Exhausted and pissed at his little shit brother, Will had climbed into bed as soon as he got home from the 21st. He was sleeping soundly until he was woken up by a wave of guilt spurring him to reach out to Jay before he was suffocated in it.
His heart had clenched when he received that one and only text. He had already failed Jay when he needed a brother. Now he didn't need…want, a doctor. That was his only in with Jay. If Jay let him check his injuries, he would have a chance to be the brother he should have been from the get go, but Jay was having none of it. Going it alone since that was what they, what he, forced him into.
X
When his phone went silent, he had circled back to the tox screens again and thought he might've finally found a thread to pull. A long shot but worth the drive to talk to Cynthia in the lab.
Plus, busy or not, it was only a matter of time before Will showed up and he didn't have time to make his brother feel better, to alliveate his guilt or lessen his worry. Not when Spencer was still out there.
He took 3 ibuprofen, grabbed his computer and headed out to the one person who would work the case with him.
X
Dr. Cynthia Cooper ran her lab with an iron fist and a soft heart. She cared about every case, every victim that needed her expertise and everyone that worked in her lab had the same mindset.
Science could sometimes, a lot of times, seem cold to the circumstance-the victim, but Cynthia thought there could be room for both, that it was imperative to have room for both. They needed to keep in the forefront why they were there.
X
Detective Jay Halstead was one of her favorite people outside her family. Definitely her favorite human in the CPD.
She had been doing this work for more than 30 years and didn't think she had, in all that time, worked with someone who cared as much about the cases - the victims, as the young detective.
Or at least, he was the only one that bothered to call or text her in the middle of the night with an epiphany he'd had while trying to sleep…often times she would be up and spinning about the same case.
X
Jay arrived at the lab with a box of Starbucks coffee and pastries for Cynthia's crew, a triple Mocha with extra whipped cream for Cynthia and a Trenta iced coffee with lite ice for himself that was well on its way to being gone. Even though he felt like shit, he was ready to pull some threads and needed to be awake for it. He was running on fumes, which was the first thing Cynthia noticed.
She didn't say anything, but Jay looked like he was about to drop. He was beat to hell and carrying himself like he was in pain. He acknowledged her awareness of his well being with a crooked, split lipped smile and they got to work.
X
Jay's thread was a good one. He suggested they work backwards and prioritize the most recent deaths. He was pretty sure Spenser moved locations where he was cutting and storing the drugs once kids started dying and knew they were on to him.
They didn't have the first location, but the tox screens weren't giving them anything useful except the drugs they were dealing with, working backward might lead them in the right direction.
Since Spenser was already sloppy with his cutting, it would make sense that he would be sloppy in his preparation of the space he was using. It didn't happen often, but something might have found its way into the cut that would help them find the new base of his operation or at the very least, something more to go on.
Once Cynthia got the new string of screens running, she hung out with Jay and together they brainstormed on the facts of the case. It was good to have another brain that was actually clicking at 100% to confirm that he hadn't missed anything obvious since his wasn't quite running on all cylinders.
X
He got back on his computer as soon as he got home and sent Trudy an email. He couldn't log what Cynthia and he had come up with under Trudy's password for legal reasons if the case ever went to trial, but wanted someone to have the information until he could log it himself.
Scanning the case notes again, he could see an update that they'd flipped the asshole's they net in yesterday's take down but no information was included. There was the possibility they were still going at them and didn't have anything or the more probable scenario given Voight's current feelings regarding him; they didn't log the information to keep him out of the loop.
If they were going in on a bust, Voight wouldn't want him showing up, which was just stupid in his book and careless ego driven leadership. Voight was treating him like the Ivory Tower treated Intelligence.
It drove home why Voight had no tolerance for white shirts and why he defied them every chance he got - they handcuffed the unit's ability to solve cases.
The lack of additional information got his hackles up. Putting in partial with no further information felt like a slap in the face. That wasn't normal operating procedure. In fact it was dangerous to not log the names and verified facts for a number of reasons once you had them.
Voight was keeping him out of one loop knowing he would find away in, while driving home there was a loop he wouldn't trust him with. And damn if that didn't hurt. He gave himself a moment to feel the hurt brought about by his boss's bullshit before he buried it with everything else.
This shit reminded him of his dad. The original punishment would fit the crime, in this case the supposed crime, but then the old man would find reasons to continue the punishment when he tried to do everything right, tried to toe the line, but his dad chose to see everything as wrong, as defiance.
He needed to tap into his anger at Voight and let it fuel him, but then get the fuck out of his head about it. His boss was an issue for after the case was locked up, until then he would put up with Voight's aggressive passive aggressive games and work the case with the man's punishing non-permission permission.
He stared at the scrap of information a little longer and it worried him…if they were out, he wasn't there to back them up.
Hopefully Trudy, though disappointed in him, would continue to be an ally.
Sarge, team in-house?
In house. Nothing actionable. Got a few more names from Kennedy they're working on. They're 'behind in logging.'
So Sarge was monitoring what he was doing. The whole thing was fucking stupid. He should be in the bullpen working with the team, bouncing ideas off each other.
Sent you an email. Cynthia and I are working on something. It'll take a day or two to see if it pans out.
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I appreciate your help Sarge.
It pissed her off to no end that the kid was working with Coop and not his team but Hank was a stubborn ass and it would take an act of God to knock him off his high horse.
I'll keep you updated with anything they give me.
He didn't bother answering. Platt was helping him, but she wouldn't give him anything that would send him out in the field with or without the unit.
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BeMeanToJayDay came a little early. I have a short piece I am working on that I want to set free before the new season starts. See ya next week. Stay safe peeps! Big smooch!