Erin and Jay were asleep in bed, until Erin woke up to find someone's hands around her throat.

"J-J-Jay…" Erin gasped.

Jay's hands got tighter and he had a dark look in his eyes.

"J…-Jay…." Erin struggled.

Erin's heart raced as she swung the lamp, its base connecting with the floor in a sharp crack. The room seemed to hold its breath, the tension palpable. Jay staggered back, his grip on her throat finally releasing. His eyes widened, and for a moment, Erin glimpsed the man she loved—the one who had shared laughter, dreams, and whispered secrets with her.

"Erin," Jay's voice trembled, and he sank to his knees, cradling his injured hand. "I… I didn't mean to." His gaze shifted from the broken lamp to Erin's tear-streaked face.

She took a step toward him, torn between fear and compassion. "Jay," she whispered, her voice raw. "What's happening to you?"

He shook his head, his expression tortured. "Nightmares," he confessed. "They haunt me, Erin. Memories of that time—the darkness, the pain. I can't escape them."

Erin knelt beside him, her fingers brushing against his cheek. "We'll get through this," she vowed. "Together."

Jay stumbled backward, his face a mask of horror. The room spun around him as he fought against the bile rising in his throat. He needed to escape, to purge the darkness that had consumed him. Without a word, he turned and sprinted toward the bathroom, Erin's anguished cries echoing behind him.

Erin followed, her heart pounding. She found Jay hunched over the toilet, retching violently. His knuckles were white as he clung to the porcelain, his breaths ragged. She knelt beside him, her hand on his back.

"Jay," she whispered, her voice trembling. "It was an accident. You didn't mean to hurt me."

He shook his head, tears mixing with the sweat on his face. "I'm a monster," he choked out. "I can't control it."

Erin's heart ached. She remembered the man he used to be—the one who held her during nightmares, who whispered promises of forever. But now, he was lost in a nightmare of his own.

"We'll get through this," she said, her voice firm. "Together."

And as Jay clung to the toilet, Erin vowed to fight for their love, even if it meant battling the shadows that threatened to tear them apart.

Erin's heart ached as she watched Jay, still trembling from the nightmare that had shattered their peace. The room felt heavy with tension, but she knew she had to reach him, to pull him back from the abyss.

She stepped closer, her touch feather-light on his shoulder. "Jay," she murmured, her voice soft and soothing. "Let's go back to bed. You need rest."

His eyes, haunted and lost, met hers. "I hurt you," he whispered, his voice raw. "I don't deserve your kindness."

Erin shook her head, her fingers tracing the curve of his jaw. "It was an accident," she insisted. "We'll figure this out together."

Jay's vulnerability tore at her heart. She leaned in, her lips brushing against his. "Sleep," she whispered. "I'll be here when you wake up."

And as they moved toward the bed, Erin hoped that love could heal even the deepest wounds. She cradled Jay in her arms, whispering soothing words, promising safety and solace

Erin stirred, the early morning light filtering through the curtains. Her eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, she forgot the nightmare that had plagued their night. But then she turned to her side, and Jay's face came into view—tense, haunted. The memory of his hands around her throat flooded back, and she shuddered.

"Jay," she whispered, reaching out to touch his cheek. "Are you okay?"

He blinked, disoriented. "Erin," he murmured. "I… I don't know."

They sat up, their legs tangled in the sheets. Erin's heart ached for him. She knew the demons that haunted Jay—the trauma from his kidnapping, the darkness that threatened to consume him. But she also knew the man he used to be—the one who held her during nightmares, who whispered promises of forever.

"We can't keep living like this," Erin said softly. "We need answers."

Jay nodded, determination in his eyes. "Yeah," he said. "Your right!"

Erin swung her legs over the edge of the bed, her feet touching the cool floor. "Let's get ready," she said. "We'll face this together."

In the bathroom, they splashed water on their faces, the mirror reflecting their weariness. Jay's hand trembled as he reached for his razor. Erin watched him, her heart breaking.

"Jay," she said, her voice steady. "Whatever happens, we'll find a way through."

He met her gaze in the mirror, vulnerability etched on his features. "I love you," he whispered.

Erin smiled, her fingers brushing against his. "I love you too," she replied. "Now let's go do what we do best."

Erin and Jay stepped into the bustling 21st District, the familiar hum of police radios and the scent of freshly brewed coffee filling the air. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting a stark glow on the worn linoleum floor. They exchanged a glance—partners in both crime-solving and love—and made their way toward the front desk.

There, behind the imposing wooden counter, sat Sergeant Trudy Platt. Her white hair framed her face, and her brown eyes held a mix of weariness and determination. She was the heart and soul of the precinct, the one who kept everything running smoothly even when chaos threatened to engulf them all.

"Morning, Platt," Jay greeted, leaning against the counter. "Ready for another day in paradise?"

Platt raised an eyebrow, her lips quirking into a half-smile. "Halstead," she said, her voice gruff but affectionate. "You know this place is more like purgatory than paradise."

Erin chuckled. "We're just here to clock in," she said. "Any exciting cases waiting for us?"

Platt leaned back in her chair, scanning the paperwork on her desk. "Well," she drawled, "we've got a missing cat, a stolen bicycle, and a jaywalker who thinks he's above the law."

Jay feigned shock. "No high-speed chases or shootouts today?"

Platt shook her head. "Not yet," she said. "But you two lovebirds always manage to find trouble, so who knows?"

Erin glanced at Jay, her heart swelling with affection. "We'll keep you on your toes," she promised.

Platt's gaze softened. "You do that," she said. "Now go on, get to work. And Halstead, try not to break any more coffee machines this week."

Jay grinned. "No promises," he said, and they headed toward the bullpen, ready to face whatever challenges awaited them. As they walked away, Platt's voice followed them.

"Be safe out there, Linstead," she called. "And don't forget to grab a doughnut from the break room. You'll need the sugar rush."

Erin squeezed Jay's hand. "Ready?" she asked.

The bullpen buzzed with tension as the team gathered around Erin's desk. Her bruised neck was impossible to ignore—the silent evidence of a struggle that had left its mark. Jay stood nearby, his jaw clenched, eyes fixed on the floor. The room held its breath, waiting for answers.

Burgess leaned against the filing cabinet, her arms crossed. "Erin," she said, her voice steady. "What the hell happened?"

Erin met their gazes, her resolve unyielding. "Snake," she replied. "He's connected to the robberies. But there's someone else—a puppet master pulling the strings."

Atwater's eyes narrowed. "And you went after him alone?" he asked.

Jay's silence spoke volumes. He'd been there, fought alongside Erin, but now guilt weighed heavy on his shoulders. Upton stepped forward, her expression fierce.

"Jay," she said, her voice low. "Why didn't you call for backup?"

He looked up, pain etched in his features. "I thought I could handle it," he admitted. "I was wrong."

Vanessa, the newest member of the team, stepped forward. She'd seen enough in her previous unit to recognize the signs—the haunted look, the desperation. She pushed Jay against the wall, her voice cold.

"You're not alone in this," she said. "We're a team."

Dawson's fists clenched. "We've got your back," he said. "But next time, don't be a damn hero."

Lunchtime arrived, and the bullpen buzzed with activity. The team gathered around the long table, their camaraderie evident as they traded stories and jokes. But one seat remained conspicuously empty—the one usually occupied by Jay Halstead.

Burgess glanced around, her brow furrowing. "Where's Jay?" she asked, her voice low.

Dawson, ever observant, leaned back in his chair. "Yeah," he said. "I haven't seen him."

Ruzek, fork halfway to his mouth, shrugged. "Maybe he's on a stakeout," he suggested. "You know how he gets."

Upton, her expression unreadable, shook her head. "No," she said. "This isn't like him."

Atwater, the team's rock, folded his napkin neatly. "We should check with Lindsay," he said. "She might know where he is."

And so, the team turned their attention to Detective Erin Lindsay. She sat at the edge of the table, nursing a cup of coffee. Her eyes met theirs, and she sighed.

"Giys," she said, her voice soft. "Jay's hurting. After what happened earlier, he needed some space."

Burgess clenched her fists. "Space?" she echoed. "He's part of this team."

Lindsay nodded. "I know," she replied. "But sometimes heroes need a moment to catch their breath."

Erin and Jay stepped out of the precinct, the weight of the day still clinging to their shoulders. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the pavement. The city buzzed around them—cars honking, people rushing, life moving forward despite the chaos they'd just faced.

Erin's hand brushed against her bruised neck, a reminder of the danger that lurked in the shadows. Jay walked beside her, his silence echoing the unspoken words between them. They'd fought side by side, danced with danger, and now they were left with the aftermath—the questions, the guilt, the ache.

The apartment building loomed ahead, its windows glowing with warm light. Erin fumbled for her keys, her fingers trembling. Jay watched her, concern etching lines on his face. He'd seen her vulnerability, witnessed the raw edges of her resolve. And he knew—he couldn't do this alone.

"Erin," he said, his voice low. "We're a team."

She met his gaze, exhaustion etched in her eyes. "I know," she whispered. "But sometimes even heroes need saving."

He stepped closer, his touch gentle as he tilted her chin up. "Not alone," he said. "Never alone."

And so, they climbed the stairs together—their footsteps echoing in the dimly lit hallway.

.