Four Years Ago

"And that was Alvin Olinksy." Trudy finished with a sad laugh, shrugging as she tried to accept that the man who had been her friend for the last decade would never again be the subject of one of her stories. "The most loyal, toughest, best cop and friend there ever was."

Jay wished he'd known that Al.

He'd always liked the older man, you couldn't know him and not immediately be able to tell that he was all those things; Al had just had a way with people. He knew how to read them, how and when to treat them with kindness vs a smack upside the head. All the stories told at his funeral had made it clear he'd been considered one of the best cops on the force, a far better reputation than their Sergeant had, though not because any of their actions had been that different. But because Al had known when to stand down. Jay could still remember the relief that had filled him after he'd convinced him and Voight not to kill Pulpo, still see the look of pride he'd given him as they'd booked the cartel leader. Could still remember how it had healed something inside him, not just gratitude that he had listened, and gotten their Sergeant too, but his own pride that what he'd done had been right. That he had been right to do something.

He could still remember the shock he'd felt when Al had shown up at his apartment after Lonnie Rodiger had been murdered, the way he'd quietly judged him for not having any wine glasses. He'd given them to Mouse when he'd moved out and since things had been getting bad with him and Tess he'd been too depressed to buy more. But aside from a dry look and quippy comment Al hadn't cared. He'd come for him. Because he'd been hurting and he'd known he'd needed a friend. But Jay hadn't been one in return.

Not the way he could have.

Not the way he now wished he had.

He'd wished it at the time too but that just made him feel worse because he'd had his chance and he hadn't taken it. Taken any of them. All the times they'd been alone in the bullpen together, the few times they'd found themselves sitting side by side at Molly's, nursing a beer as they worked through the aftermath of a tough case. For Christ's sake, he'd struggled to offer his condolences when Lexi had died, his fucking daughter, not because he hadn't cared but because that was a grief he just had no understanding of. But the ones he did… All those times one of them had just known the other was thinking about their time in the service, when Al would give him a look saying he was there if he wanted to talk. But he hadn't ever taken him up on it. And he wouldn't ever stop regretting that, not just as his own loss, but for the other veterans.

Were you ever injured in the line of crushing grapes?

What Jay wouldn't give to hear those stories. To share his own, trading experiences and bonding over what never changed, the war that broke them and the brotherhood that made it worth it. Al had been the one person he could have told everything to, the one person who wouldn't have judged, or pushed, who would have just let him be. Sometimes… sometimes Jay wondered if he had known. There had been times the older man had looked at him and he could have sworn he'd known about the Rangers, his rank, the attack on their convoy. Tess. The man had a habit of popping up out of nowhere eating a piece of fruit but the day, the only day he had come in with a quart of blueberries and stared him dead in the eye while offering him some…

Jay was pretty sure he'd known. Especially because it had happened a couple months after the Cullen case, when he'd once again been too much of a coward to reach out to her. When he'd told himself he hadn't had to because Alvin had reached out to his own contacts in the agency, people who would have had no reason to lie for her. Who would have wanted to hurt her.

"Hey."

He nodded at Hailey as she hopped on the hood of his truck, grateful for the reprieve from his thoughts until the reminder of where they were threw him back in. "You heard from Voight? He said he was going to come by."

"No, I texted him an hour ago but…"

But he hadn't responded.

Had any of them really thought he would?

That a man as private as him would share a grief so deep, so personal?

"I hope he's okay."

He wouldn't be. How could he be?

"Yeah, he loved Al. That was his best friend, his priest, his shrink."

"Yeah, it's not going to be easy."

No. It wouldn't be.

It had been over a year and he was still struggling with his own best friend being gone, his brother, his confessor and sounding board. One side of the triangle he was longing for more and more, every time he fell down and had to pick himself up alone. It was bad enough to have an ocean between them, six thousand nine hundred and twenty miles to be exact, not to mention a war, the atrocities of which he knew all too well. The danger. It was bad enough to wonder every day if he was okay, how long it would take for him to know if he was injured. If Jay allowed himself to consider the very real possibility that he could lose Greg permanently…

It would break him.

Even more than he already was.

In a way he wouldn't be able to come back from.

And it made him feel even more strongly for what Voight was going through, but it also scared him. Wounded men were dangerous and Voight already had one foot over the line. How bad were things going to get?