Jay Halstead sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the floor, his mind buzzing with thoughts that wouldn't settle. The soft morning light filtered through the blinds, casting long shadows across the room, but he felt no warmth from it. For weeks now, he'd been carrying a weight inside him—one that felt heavier with each passing day. His chest tightened, and he ran a hand through his hair, frustrated with himself for feeling so... lost.

The lyrics from Taylor Swift's "evermore" ran through his mind, reflecting the exhaustion that had been consuming him: "Gray November, I've been down since July..." It hadn't been just a bad day or even a rough week. This feeling—this constant heaviness—had been with him for months, and he didn't know how to shake it. No matter how many cases he closed, no matter how hard he worked, there was a cloud that hung over him, and it felt like it was swallowing him whole.

The sound of his phone buzzing on the nightstand broke the silence. It was Hailey Upton, his partner both on the force and in life. Jay hesitated for a moment before picking it up.

"Hey," Hailey's voice was soft but filled with concern. "You coming in today?"

Jay sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Yeah, I'll be there. Just... needed a minute."

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and Jay knew Hailey could hear the strain in his voice. She always knew when something was off with him, even when he tried to hide it.

"You sure?" she asked gently. "You don't have to push yourself."

Jay swallowed hard, trying to ignore the lump in his throat. "I'll be fine, Hailey. I'll see you soon."

He hung up before she could say anything else. He didn't want to talk about it—not now, not yet. It wasn't like he didn't trust Hailey. He did. But admitting that he was struggling, that something was wrong, felt like admitting defeat. And Jay Halstead didn't do defeat.


The precinct was buzzing with activity when Jay walked in, his steps heavy as he made his way to his desk. Hailey glanced up from her paperwork, giving him a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Hey," she said, her voice laced with concern. "You okay?"

Jay forced a smile, though it felt hollow. "Yeah, just tired."

Hailey studied him for a moment, clearly not convinced but knowing better than to push him. "Well, we've got a new case. Maybe it'll take your mind off things."

Jay nodded, though he doubted anything could distract him from the storm brewing inside him. As they went over the details of the case—a missing persons report that was already starting to look like something more sinister—Jay tried to focus, but his mind kept drifting. The familiar sense of dread settled in his chest, and he felt like he was moving in slow motion, disconnected from everything around him.

Hailey must have noticed, because after a while, she pulled him aside, her expression serious.

"Jay, what's going on?" she asked, her voice quiet but firm. "You've been off for weeks now. You're not yourself."

Jay leaned against the wall, crossing his arms defensively. "I'm fine, Hailey. Just dealing with some stuff."

She stepped closer, her eyes searching his. "Talk to me. You know you don't have to go through this alone."

Jay clenched his jaw, feeling the familiar urge to shut down, to push everyone away. But this was Hailey, and she wasn't going to let him get away with that.

"I don't even know how to explain it," he admitted, his voice low. "It's like... everything's heavy. Every day, I wake up, and it's like I'm just going through the motions. I can't shake it, and I don't know how to make it stop."

Hailey's face softened, and she reached out, placing a hand on his arm. "Jay, it sounds like you're dealing with more than just a rough patch. Maybe you should talk to someone—like really talk."

Jay shook his head, the thought of seeing a therapist making his stomach turn. "I don't need therapy, Hailey. I just need to get out of my head."

Hailey frowned, her eyes filled with worry. "You don't have to do this alone. There's no shame in getting help, Jay."

He looked away, his throat tight with emotion. The idea of asking for help—of admitting that he couldn't handle things on his own—felt like too much. But at the same time, he knew Hailey was right. He couldn't keep pretending that everything was fine when it wasn't.

"I'll think about it," he finally said, though he wasn't sure if he meant it.

Hailey gave him a small smile, squeezing his arm before letting go. "That's all I'm asking."


That night, after another long and emotionally draining day at the precinct, Jay found himself sitting alone in his apartment, the quiet of the room pressing down on him like a weight. He had spent so much of his life being strong, being the one who took care of things, but now, he felt like he was crumbling, and he didn't know how to stop it.

The lyrics from "evermore" echoed in his mind again: "I rewind the tape, but all it does is pause..." No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't move forward. He was stuck, trapped in his own mind, reliving moments of pain and loss that he thought he had buried.

His thoughts drifted to his time in the military, to the friends he had lost, to the trauma that still haunted him. He had always pushed those memories down, thinking he could handle it on his own. But now, they were coming back with a vengeance, and he wasn't sure if he could keep it all together.

His phone buzzed on the table, and he glanced at the screen to see Hailey's name. He hesitated for a moment before picking it up.

"Hey," he said, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

"Hey," Hailey replied softly. "I just wanted to check in. How are you holding up?"

Jay let out a long sigh, rubbing his temples. "Not great."

There was a pause on the other end of the line before Hailey spoke again. "I've been thinking... maybe we could take some time off. Get away for a bit. Clear our heads."

Jay frowned, the idea of leaving everything behind for a while both tempting and terrifying. "I don't know if I can just... leave."

"Why not?" Hailey asked gently. "You deserve a break, Jay. We both do."

Jay's mind raced, filled with a thousand reasons why he couldn't just walk away from the job, from his responsibilities. But then, he thought about the toll it was taking on him—the sleepless nights, the constant anxiety, the overwhelming sense of hopelessness. Maybe getting away was exactly what he needed.

"Okay," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "Let's do it."


A few days later, Jay and Hailey found themselves in a quiet cabin outside the city, surrounded by nothing but trees and the sound of the wind rustling through the leaves. It was a far cry from the noise and chaos of Chicago, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Jay felt like he could breathe.

They spent their days hiking through the woods, their conversations light and easy, and for a while, Jay was able to forget about the darkness that had been following him. But at night, when everything was still, the weight of his thoughts returned, and he found himself lying awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering if he would ever truly feel okay again.

One evening, after a long hike, Jay and Hailey sat by the fire, the flames casting a warm glow over their faces. They hadn't talked much about what had brought them here—about the reason Jay needed this break—but now, sitting in the quiet, Jay felt the need to open up.

"I've been thinking," Jay began, his voice low. "About everything. About why I've been feeling like this."

Hailey looked at him, her expression soft but attentive. "And?"

Jay stared into the fire, his mind racing. "I think... I think I've been carrying too much for too long. The job, the things I've seen, the people I've lost... I never dealt with any of it. I just kept going, thinking I could handle it. But now, it feels like it's all catching up to me."

Hailey reached out, placing her hand on his knee. "You don't have to carry it alone, Jay. You don't have to be the strong one all the time."

Jay swallowed hard, the lump in his throat making it difficult to speak. "I know. I just... I don't know how to let go."

Hailey scooted closer, her voice soft but steady. "You start by letting people in. By letting me in."

Jay looked at her, his heart aching with the realization that she was right. He had spent so long trying to protect himself, trying to be strong for everyone else, that he had forgotten how to let others help him.

"I'm trying," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. "I really am."

Hailey smiled, her eyes filled with understanding. "That's all you need to do."

As they sat there, the fire crackling softly in the background, Jay felt a sense of peace that he hadn't felt in a long time. It wasn't the end of his struggles—he knew that. But it was a start. And for now, that was enough.

The lyrics from "evermore" played softly in his mind: "I had a feeling so peculiar, that this pain wouldn't be for evermore..." Maybe, just maybe, he was finally on the path to healing.