The next morning, Jay Halstead strides into the bullpen, his hair still damp from the shower. The unit glances up from their desks, smirks playing on their lips.

Ruzek leans back in his chair. "Morning, Halstead. Where's Burgess?"

Jay rolls his eyes. "She's—"

"—on her period," Atwater finishes for him, grinning.

Voight raises an eyebrow. "Is that your official diagnosis, Halstead?"

Jay shrugs. "Hey, it's a valid excuse."

Jay leans over to Ruzek, his voice low. "Adam, cover me for a bit, will you? I've got something to take care of."

Ruzek raises an eyebrow. "Oh, really? Where are you sneaking off to, Halstead?"

The rest of the unit perks up, curiosity evident on their faces. Jay clears his throat, trying to sound nonchalant. "Just a quick errand. Nothing exciting."

Voight glances up from his paperwork. "Halstead, we're not running a daycare here. If you're leaving, give us a heads-up."

Jay nods. "Understood, Voight. It won't take long."

As he heads toward the exit, the unit exchanges knowing glances.

Jay's knuckles rap against Kim's apartment door, the sound echoing in the quiet hallway. When no response comes, he glances around, checking if anyone's watching. He knows he's bending the rules, but this is Kim—his partner, his friend, and maybe something more.

His fingers find the hidden spare key under the welcome mat, and he slips it into the lock. The door swings open, revealing a dimly lit room. Jay steps inside, his heart racing. "Burgess?"

And there she is, hunched over on the couch, her face buried in her hands. Her shoulders shake with silent sobs, and Jay's concern spikes. He crosses the room in quick strides, dropping to his knees beside her.

"Kim," he murmurs, gently prying her hands away from her tear-streaked face. "What's wrong?"

She looks up at him, eyes red and swollen. "Jay," she whispers, her voice raw. "It hurts so much."

His heart clenches. "Your stomach?"

She nods, and he glances around, spotting a heating pad on the coffee table. He switches it on and places it against her belly. "Better?"

Kim leans into his touch, her fingers gripping his shirt. "Yeah. Thanks."

He brushes her hair back, his thumb wiping away a stray tear. "You don't have to go through this alone, you know."

She sniffs, her vulnerability laid bare. "I hate feeling weak."

Jay's voice is soft. "You're not weak. You're human."

And in that moment, as Kim leans into his warmth.

Kim stirs, her eyes fluttering open. The room is dim, and for a moment, she forgets where she is. Then the pain hits—sharp and relentless. She pushes herself up, wincing, and that's when she sees it: blood staining the couch.

Her breath hitches, and the sobs come, wracking her body. She's alone, and it's too much. Too much pain, too much fear.

But then Jay is there, kneeling beside her, his touch gentle. "Kim," he murmurs, "it's going to be okay."

She shakes her head, tears blurring her vision. "I can't—"

"—do this alone," he finishes. His arms slide under her, lifting her effortlessly. "You don't have to."

And as he carries her toward the bathroom, Kim clings to him, her heart aching.

Jay runs the shower, adjusting the temperature until it's just right. The sound of water fills the small bathroom, drowning out Kim's sobs. He helps her step inside, steadying her as she clings to him.

"It's okay," he murmurs, his voice soothing. "Let the water wash it all away."

Kim's tears mix with the spray, and Jay holds her close, their bodies pressed together.

Jay steps out of the bathroom, steam clinging to his skin.

He grabs a pair of sweats from his bag and hands them to Kim.

"Here," he says softly. "They'll be more comfortable than those jeans."

Kim takes them, her fingers brushing against his. "Thanks."

He nods toward the living room. "I'll crash on the couch. You take the bed."

Kim hesitates, then shakes her head. "No. We can share."

Jay blinks, caught off guard. "Are you sure?"

She smiles, a hint of vulnerability in her eyes. "Yeah. Just…stay with me."

Kim shifts on the bed, wincing as pain flares up again. The sweats Jay lent her are soft, but she's still uncomfortable. She glances over at him, his features softened in sleep. His arm hangs off the edge of the couch, and she can't help but notice how peaceful he looks.

Carefully, she lifts her head, trying to find a better position. But Jay stirs, his eyes fluttering open. He blinks at her, disoriented for a moment, before realization dawns.

"Kim," he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep. "You okay?"

She nods, feeling oddly vulnerable. "Just trying to get comfortable."

Without hesitation, Jay sits up, scooping her into his arms. "Come here," he says, his touch gentle. "Let's find a better spot."

Kim rests her head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

As Kim and Jay descend the stairs, the weight of their shared secret hangs between them. Kim glances at Jay, her expression uncertain. "What are we going to tell the guys?"

Jay's jaw tightens, but he meets her gaze. "The truth," he says quietly. "We'll tell them the truth."