so you were never a saint and I loved in shades of wrong

The evening unfolded in the quiet stillness of Jay's apartment, the two of them moving around each other with a familiarity that was both comforting and bittersweet. Erin hadn't felt this grounded in a long time. The storm of the case they had worked on together still lingered in the background, but for now, they were focused on something simple: making dinner. It was an escape, a momentary reprieve from the heavy weight of everything that hung unsaid between them.

The kitchen had become their battlefield, not for work but for teasing and half-hearted bickering. They moved around each other like they had done so many times before, their rhythm natural and instinctual.

"Careful with that," Jay teased, watching her chop vegetables with a critical eye.

Erin arched an eyebrow, shooting him a mock glare. "Careful? I've been doing this for longer than you've been able to hold a knife."

Jay smirked, stepping closer, a little too close. The heat from his body made Erin's pulse quicken. "Yeah? Well, I'm just saying… your form could use some work."

She huffed, her lips twitching in amusement despite herself. "Oh really? You think you can do better?"

Jay's grin widened. "Always."

Before she could argue, he stepped behind her, his chest brushing against her back as he placed his hand over hers on the knife. "It's all in the wrist," he said, his voice low in her ear, his breath warm against her skin.

The teasing words were suddenly loaded with something else, something that made her stomach flip and her heart pound. His hand on hers was gentle but firm, guiding the knife in a smooth motion. But she wasn't paying attention to the vegetables anymore. All she could focus on was the way his body pressed lightly against hers, the way his fingers lingered on hers, and the way her pulse was hammering in her throat.

"See?" he murmured, his lips just inches from her ear. "Easy."

Erin's breath caught, her heart beating so fast she was sure he could hear it. "Oh, I see," she said, her voice unsteady, trying to mask the effect he was having on her. "So, vegetable chopping is one of your many hidden talents?"

Jay chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through her. "One of many, yeah."

She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. She was too aware of him—his closeness, his warmth, the way her body seemed to gravitate toward him like a magnet. She should have pulled away, made a joke, or something to break the tension, but instead, she found herself leaning into him, just slightly.

"And the others?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jay's hand lingered on hers for a moment longer before he pulled back, but instead of stepping away, he stayed close, his eyes locking onto hers. "Guess you'll just have to stick around long enough to find out."

Her heart stuttered at the words, at the unspoken promise behind them. The air between them shifted, the playful banter dissolving into something heavier, something that made Erin's pulse race. She hadn't felt this kind of intensity in years—not since… well, not since before she left for New York.

Erin bit her lip, her mind racing. This was dangerous, this thing between them. It was too easy to fall back into old patterns, to let herself get swept up in the pull of Jay. But it was happening anyway, and the truth was, she didn't want to stop it.

"You know," she said softly, her eyes not leaving his, "if I didn't know better, I'd think you were flirting with me, Halstead."

Jay's lips curved into a slow smile, his eyes darkening. "And if I didn't know better, I'd say you were enjoying it."

Her breath hitched, and her heart pounded harder. "Maybe I am."

The space between them seemed to disappear as he leaned in, just slightly, testing the waters. Her pulse roared in her ears, her body practically humming with anticipation. He was so close—closer than they had been in a long time—and for a moment, she forgot everything. She forgot about New York, about the case, about all the unresolved things between them. All she could think about was how much she wanted him to close that last bit of distance and—

Her phone buzzed, shattering the moment. The sound was jarring, and Erin blinked, her mind struggling to catch up as she stepped back. Jay's expression shifted immediately, the heat in his eyes cooling as reality crashed back in.

Erin glanced at the screen, her heart sinking when she saw the name: New York.

Jay's jaw tightened as he saw the name too. He didn't say anything, but the tension in the room thickened, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on them.

"Are you going to get that?" he asked, his voice tight and strained.

Erin swallowed hard, her hand hovering over the phone. "I…" She glanced at him, the words faltering on her lips. The call kept buzzing, insistent, demanding her attention.

Finally, with a sigh, she answered. "Lindsay."

"Erin, it's Agent Roberts. We've wrapped up the case on our end. We need you back."

The words hit her like a punch to the gut. She glanced at Jay again, his eyes dark and unreadable, his posture stiff as he leaned against the counter, arms crossed.

"I'm still finishing things up here," she said, her voice quieter now.

"We understand that, but we can't wait much longer. We've got another case coming up, and we need you."

The call ended with a curt goodbye, and Erin slowly lowered the phone, her heart pounding in her chest. The room was thick with silence, and she could feel Jay's gaze on her, the unspoken tension building with every passing second.

"Alright," Jay finally said, his voice cutting through the quiet. "When are you going back?"

Erin flinched at the question, at the coldness in his tone. "Jay, I haven't even decided yet."

"Really?" Jay let out a harsh laugh, shaking his head. "Because it sure sounds like they've already decided for you."

"That's not fair," she said, frustration bubbling up inside her. "I came back here to help with the case. I never said I was staying."

"You didn't have to say it," Jay shot back, his eyes hard. "You left once already. Why wouldn't you do it again?"

Her heart clenched at the bitterness in his voice, at the anger that was so close to the surface. "You know why I left, Jay. We weren't… we weren't working."

"'And now we are?' His voice rose, the hurt clear in his eyes. 'What the hell are we doing then, Erin? You show up here, we start to feel like… like *us* again, and now you're just going to walk away?'"

Erin's throat tightened, her emotions twisting inside her. "I never said that."

"Didn't have to." Jay stepped closer, his eyes blazing. "You're already halfway out the door."

Her breath hitched at the truth of his words, her heart screaming at her to say something, to fight, but the doubts, the guilt, the fear, they all tangled together, trapping her in place.

Jay's voice softened, his anger replaced by something more vulnerable. "I thought we were getting it right, Erin. I thought maybe we had a chance. But if you're just going to leave again…"

"I don't know," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I don't know what I'm doing."

Jay stared at her for a long moment, his expression crumbling before her eyes. "Yeah," he said, his voice barely audible. "Neither do I."

And with that, he turned and walked out the door.

Erin stood there, her chest tight, her heart aching, the sound of the door slamming behind him echoing in her ears.

As the silence settled back into the room, the weight of everything crashed down on her. The call from New York, the argument with Jay, the way her heart pulled in two different directions. Did she really want to go back to New York? Or was she just running away again?

And if she stayed, what did that mean for them? What about her job? Could she have one in Chicago, after all that happened?

The air felt thick with unresolved tension as Erin stood frozen, her mind racing with everything that had just happened. Jay's words echoed in her head, the raw hurt in his voice cutting deeper than she'd expected. It wasn't like their previous arguments—this time, it felt final. The weight of what they'd said to each other hung in the silence like a storm cloud, and she could still hear the door slam as he left, reverberating in her chest.

She leaned against the counter, her hands trembling as she pressed her palms into the cool surface, trying to steady herself. For a moment, she just let herself breathe, letting the waves of emotions wash over her, each one crashing harder than the last. Everything felt too much—too overwhelming.

She closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath. She couldn't keep doing this to herself, to Jay. But every time she thought she could walk away, something pulled her back—pulled her back to him, to the life they used to share.

A sharp knock on the door broke through her thoughts. Her heart leapt into her throat, hope flickering in her chest. Had Jay come back?

She wiped her hands on her jeans, trying to compose herself as she walked toward the door. But when she opened it, she was met not by Jay, but by Hank, his expression unreadable as he stood on the doorstep.

"Hey, kid," he said quietly, his tone softer than usual.

Erin blinked, caught off guard. "Hank, what are you doing here?"

He gave a slight shrug, his eyes scanning her face, taking in the way she was holding herself together. "I got a call from Jay. Figured I'd check in on you."

The mention of Jay made her heart twist, and she let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "Of course, he called you."

Hank raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything right away. Instead, he stepped inside, his presence filling the space. Erin closed the door behind him and leaned back against it, feeling her shoulders slump under the weight of everything she had been carrying.

"Things didn't go well, I take it?" Hank asked, his voice low.

Erin sighed, running a hand through her hair. "You could say that."

For a moment, they just stood there, the silence heavy between them. Hank wasn't one for talking about feelings, and neither was Erin, but there was an unspoken understanding between them—always had been. He didn't have to ask what was wrong; he already knew.

"He's hurting," Hank finally said, his voice gruff but not unkind. "So are you."

Erin looked away, biting the inside of her cheek to keep the tears from falling. "I know. But I don't know how to fix it, Hank. I don't know if I can."

Hank stepped closer, his hand resting on her shoulder, a rare show of comfort. "You've been through a lot. Both of you. But running isn't going to make it any easier."

"'I'm not running,' she snapped, but the words felt hollow, even to her own ears."

Hank gave her a look, one that said he wasn't buying it. "You've been running since the day you left for New York."

Erin opened her mouth to argue, "You told me not to look back the night I left. That's what I did."

Hank's gaze didn't waver. His voice was calm but firm, carrying the weight of someone who had seen through too many excuses in his lifetime. "Yeah, I did. But I didn't mean for you to lose yourself in the process."

Erin flinched, the truth in his words hitting her harder than she wanted to admit. She crossed her arms, her fingers gripping her sleeves tightly, trying to find something to hold on to. "I didn't lose myself," she muttered, but even as the words left her mouth, she knew they weren't true.

Hank sighed, stepping back, his eyes softening. "Kid, I've known you long enough to see when you're struggling. You may not have lost yourself completely, but you've been trying to bury pieces of who you are since you left." He paused, letting the words sink in. "And Jay sees that, too."

Erin's chest tightened. She looked away, blinking back the tears that were threatening to spill. Hank had always had a way of cutting through the noise, getting to the heart of things without sugarcoating it. She hated it, but at the same time, she needed it.

"Hank, I don't know what I'm doing," she whispered, her voice shaky. "I thought going to New York would help me… clear my head. But it didn't. It just made everything worse."

Hank's expression softened further, his tough exterior cracking just a little. "You don't have to figure everything out tonight. But you do need to be honest with yourself. What do you really want?"

Erin's mind raced, the question hanging heavy between them. What did she want? New York had been an escape, a way to run from the mess she and Jay had made of their lives. But Chicago was her home—Jay was her home, even after everything. And deep down, she knew that. She had always known that.

"I don't know how to fix things with Jay," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't even know if I can."

Hank's hand squeezed her shoulder, grounding her. "You're not going to fix it overnight. But you need to start somewhere. And that's not by running."

She nodded slowly, swallowing the lump in her throat. Hank was right. She had to stop running.

If she wanted any chance with Jay—if she wanted any chance to put the pieces of her life back together—she had to stay. She had to face it, all of it.

"I don't have a job here,the Ivory Tower..my badge..I can't have it back after-"

""I have a few people who owe me some favors. You know that as long as I run Intelligence, if there's someone who will fill a spot for me, it's you."

"Aren't all the spots full?With Upton and-"

"Look, there's always room for someone who's proven themselves," Hank replied, his tone steady. "And you've done just that, Erin. You know how to handle yourself in a way that few others can. It's not about the title; it's about what you bring to the table."

Erin felt a flicker of hope ignite inside her, but it was quickly doused by the weight of her own self-doubt. "But what if they don't want me back after everything that happened?"

Hank leaned against the counter, arms crossed, his gaze intense. "That's a risk you have to be willing to take. You can't let your past define your future. You've grown, you've learned, and you've faced things that would break most people. You have to trust that you can stand up for yourself in that meeting, that you can show them the officer you still are."

"Would they want me to return under the same conditions? What if they think I'm incapable of handling the job?" Her voice trembled as she spoke, uncertainty bubbling to the surface.

Hank shook his head. "Then you prove them wrong. You're not the same Erin who left for New York. You're stronger now, and you have more clarity about what you want."

"Which is…?" Erin said, her voice softening. The question hung in the air, heavy with implications.

He regarded her carefully, reading the uncertainty in her eyes. "That's for you to decide. But if you want a shot at something real with Halstead, you need to make a choice." He said seriosuly, looking at her before his question."Are you staying or going?"

Erin swallowed hard, the reality of his words settling in. Staying would mean confronting everything—the hurt, the fear, and the possibility of failure. But leaving felt like running away again, and she couldn't do that anymore.

"I want to stay," she said quietly, the words slipping out before she could second-guess them. "But I don't want to go back to the same mistakes."

Hank nodded, a hint of pride flickering in his eyes. "That's a good start. Just remember, it's not going to be easy. But you're not alone in this. You've got me, you've got the team, and you've got Jay."

"I just don't know how to fix things with him," Erin admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. The thought of facing Jay again, of having to explain everything, made her stomach twist.

"I admit it, I wasn't fond of him back then. But these years, he has proven that he's a damn good detective. And I know I wasn't the number one supporter of you two together at first…"

Erin rolled her eyes; that was an understatement.

"Halstead was bad when you left. Like putting himself into constant danger bad. I am not telling you what to do, but looking at it, you two were always good together as partners at work and maybe also out of it." Hank said, in a way that even for him was strange, that those words came out of his own mouth.

Erin leaned into the counter, her arms crossed and her brows raised. "When did Hank Voight become a philosopher?" she teased.

"Two years ago, I saw you as friends, partners, and god knows what else. But back when we found you days after you were kidnapped, Halstead had that look in his eyes. It was the same look I had every time I looked at Camille," he said, his voice lowered slightly.

Erin was surprised by his words, the way he said it, the thing he said. If Erin Lindsay was certain of something, it was that Hank Voight and Camille were made for each other. Growing up, Erin never had an idea of love to look up to, then they took her in. And by 16, she knew that if someone asked her about love, she would have talked about the way Camille's eyes lightened up when Hank came back from work or the way Hank kissed her head every time they had to book yet another hospital visit. She saw enough to know that that kind of love... it wasn't something you find easily. And maybe that was the point.

It might not have been easy, but it was worth it. The love they shared was strong and above everything else, even death.

"I think I wanna stay." She breathed heavily,feeling a weight lifted off her chest.

It was like saying something she was trying so hard to keep hidden, and she felt like she already knew that her heart had already decided the moment she laid her eyes on Jay again.

"Then tomorrow I'll start work for your badge.You're not alone in this kid."

Erin felt a wave of relief wash over her, mixed with an undercurrent of fear. Hank's words anchored her, grounding her in the chaos swirling around her. The prospect of returning to the job she had once loved filled her with tentative hope, but Jay loomed larger in her mind. The decision to stay meant she would have to confront not just her past but the shattered pieces of her relationship with him.

"Thanks, Hank," she said, her voice steadier now. "I really appreciate this."

Hank gave her a nod, his expression softening slightly. "You've got what it takes, Erin.You always had."

He left the apartment ending their unusual heartfelt conversation but before he could leave, she leaned in for a hug, feeling grateful for his paternal figure despite all.

She then sank onto the couch, her mind racing. The apartment felt empty without Jay, the silence echoing all the things they hadn't said to each other. She closed her eyes, her hand absentmindedly reaching for her phone.

Without thinking too much about it, she opened her messages, her thumb hovering over Jay's name. There was so much she wanted to say to him, so much she needed to explain. But the words felt tangled in her throat.

Finally, she typed two simple words: I'm sorry.

She hit send, her heart pounding as she stared at the screen, waiting for a response that might never come.

Time seemed to stretch on endlessly, the minutes crawling by as she sat there, her stomach in knots. She didn't know what she was hoping for: an answer, a sign, anything to show that they weren't completely lost.

And then, after what felt like an eternity, her phone buzzed. Erin's breath caught in her throat as she read the message:

Me too.