A/n: Set around Chicago Med S4E2 and Chicago PD S6E2, includes the deleted scene from the episode. It just felt like the Halsteads got swept up into the Ray Burke saga too soon and I personally felt like Will needed a bit more turmoil around having the run the code on his dad :/

The hospital room was cold, sterile, and filled with an overwhelming sense of finality. Will Halstead stood over his father's lifeless body, his heart pounding in his chest as he fought back the tears threatening to spill over. He had always thought he would be the one to save him. But now, as he looked at the still form of the man who had raised him, the man who had taught him to fight for others, he felt like a failure.

Glancing over at Jay, his heart broke for the pain that his brother was obviously in. Seeing Jay close to tears at his father's bedside as they waited to pull the plug, he couldn't help but wonder if he had made a mistake carrying on that code as long as he had. If he had somehow perpetrated Jay's grief.

"Will," a voice broke through his thoughts. It was Dr. Rhodes, his friend and the Patrick Halstead's cardiologist. "You need to take a moment. I can handle things here if you want to step out."

Will shook his head, clenching his jaw. "I can't. I need to do this."

The next day, Will and Jay walk to a nearby coffee shop as Will begins making the notifications, calling any of his father's friends that he could remember.

"Joe Wilson, Aunt Carol," Will sighs "Who am I forgetting?"

Jay glances up at his brother, brow furrowed and shaking his head.

"What was his army buddy's name?" Will asks. "Guy he played chess with."

Jay just frowns and shakes his head, "You don't have to keep calling people."

Will stared at Jay for a moment before swallowing. "They deserve to know," he says resolutely.

Jay raises an eyebrow and avoids Will's gaze. "That's what obituaries are for," sipping his coffee to mask his own complicated feelings.

"John something," Will presses on, "I'm gonna figure out how we can get into dad's apartment, find an address book or something."

Jay's phone buzzes, granting him some much-needed reprieve from Will's determination.

Pulling it out of his jeans pocket, he answers, "This is Jay… ok yeah… ok thanks."

"We should figure out what funeral home we're going with, Med's gonna need to move the body." Will says.

"I gotta go," Jay rises.

Will looks at Jay not understanding Jay's reaction.

Seeing Will's expression, Jay answers, "Work."

"Really?" Will questions.

"I'll be back," Jay nods.

"You can't stay twenty minutes, to make arrangements? He's our dad, Jay, I think work's going to understand." Will counters.

"I just told you, I'll be back," Jay bristles.

"I know you didn't get the ending you wanted, but I need you right now!" Will exclaims.

"Will, they just ruled the fire an arsen!"

Will pauses looking at Jay shocked, Jay lets the news sink in before throwing a couple of bills down on the table.

"So I'm going to work."

Jay walks away leaving Will to process the new information. Will stares at Jay's back as he exits the diner before sinking down into a chair and putting his head in between his hands, feeling the weight of his father's death pressing down on him.

That night, Will stood in the kitchen of his dad's apartment, stirring a pot of spaghetti that he had lost all enthusiasm for. He couldn't remember the last time he had eaten a proper meal, too focused on making sure Jay was okay. But Jay was too busy chasing down the arsonist. He had thrown himself into the case, just as Will had feared he would.

A knock the front door pulled Will from his thoughts. He opened the door to see Jay standing there, his shoulders slumped, eyes shadowed with exhaustion. "Hey," Jay said, barely meeting Will's gaze as he moved past him.

"Jay, I made dinner," Will offered, trying to keep his voice light, but the effort felt futile.

"I'm not hungry," Jay replied.

Will felt a familiar pang of frustration and sorrow. Jay was shutting him out, and every time he did, it felt like a piece of Will was breaking away.

Will sighs and allows Jay to walk past him. The thought of food now made him nauseous, he opts to sit himself down at the desk their dad had in the living room instead of heading back to the kitchenette.

Jay heads into the bedroom. The silence between the brothers could not be louder.

The next day brought another list of names—family, friends, coworkers—people he needed to notify about their father's passing. Each name felt like a knife to his heart, a reminder of the void that was growing in his life. He sat at the small table in their dad's apartment, phone in hand, staring at the screen as he mentally prepared for the first call.

"Will!" Jay's voice echoed from the other room. "I need your help with something."

Will hesitated, his heart racing. He wanted to be there for Jay, but the thought of pushing his own grief aside yet again made him feel nauseous. He took a deep breath and forced a smile. "Coming!"

As he entered the living room, he found Jay standing over a box of their father's old belongings, photos and trophies spilling out. "Can you help me sort through this?" Jay asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Sure," Will replied, forcing himself to remain calm. "Let's do it together."

They sat on the floor, surrounded by memories. Will felt a mix of nostalgia and pain as they sorted through their father's life—his achievements, his passions, and the little things that made him who he was. They laughed at old photos, but the laughter quickly faded as the reality of their situation sunk in.

"Will," Jay said suddenly, breaking the silence, "I don't know how to do this without him."

Will's heart broke for his brother. He could see the cracks in Jay's facade, the anguish bubbling just below the surface. "Neither do I, Jay," he admitted softly. "But we'll figure it out together. We have to."

But as he spoke the words, Will felt the walls he had built around his own grief beginning to crack. The fear of losing himself in the pain was terrifying, but he knew he couldn't let Jay down. He had to be strong for both of them.

As the days passed, Will found himself drowning in responsibilities. The funeral arrangements were consuming him, and the guilt of not being able to save his father was a constant shadow over his heart. He spent hours going through paperwork, planning every detail with precision, and each decision felt like another burden added to his shoulders. Jay had taken to doing the bare minimum, throwing himself back into work as a distraction. Will thought about asking for Jay's help again but remembered how Jay had shut him down in that café. Will also knew that Jay needed work to help him grieve, so he resolved to give Jay what he needed. He knew he hadn't been there for Jay when their mom was dying, or when their dad had first gotten sick and it was his fault that Jay had to watch their dad being taken off the vent so the least he could do was take care of the funeral arrangements and shoulder that burden so that Jay wouldn't have to.

One night, after a particularly grueling shift, he returned to Natalie's apartment, the weight of the day hanging heavily on him. He found her already asleep, her gentle breaths a soothing sound in the dark. But as he settled onto the couch, he couldn't shake the suffocating guilt that had become his constant companion.

With the moonlight spilling into the room, Will allowed himself to let go. Silent sobs wracked his body as he pressed a pillow against his mouth, desperately trying not to wake Natalie. The guilt of not saving his dad, the weight of responsibility for both his and Jay's grief, and the overwhelming pressure of the funeral preparations all crashed down on him at once.

"Why couldn't I save you?" he whispered into the pillow, tears streaming down his face. "I should have done more. I should have—"

Will felt utterly alone, surrounded by the memories of his father and the haunting realization that he would never again hear his voice or see his smile. No one knew how much he was hurting. He had become a master at hiding it, wearing a brave face for Jay and putting on a facade for his friends at work. But inside, he was breaking.

As he lay there in the darkness, he couldn't help but think about how far Jay had drifted from him. His brother was so consumed by his own grief that he hadn't noticed Will's suffering, and that thought only deepened the ache in his chest.

The day of the funeral arrived, a day that had loomed over them like a storm cloud. Will had done everything he could to prepare, but standing at the front of the chapel, surrounded by friends and family, he felt his heart race.

Jay stood beside him, their shoulders touching, both offering silent support to one another. As they took turns speaking about their father, the pain felt both unbearable and cathartic. With every story shared, every tear shed, Will felt a sense of release—like a heavy weight was lifting, even if just a little.

But as Will stood at the podium, looking out at the sea of faces, he felt the flood of emotion rising again. Memories rushed through his mind—his father teaching him how to ride a bike, the countless nights he had spent by his dad's bedside after his quadruple bypass, the last moments when Will had fought to save him. The rawness of it all threatened to break him.

Then he caught sight of Jay, his younger brother's face a mask of grief. The pain etched on Jay's features was a reflection of his own, and in that moment, Will felt a surge of resolve. He couldn't fall apart now—not when Jay needed him most.

Drawing in a shaky breath, he steadied himself, forcing his emotions back down. "He was my hero," Will said, his voice trembling but strong. "And I promise to honor his legacy by being there for my brother, just as he always was for us."

As he spoke those words, he locked eyes with Jay, who was struggling to hold back tears. Will felt a sense of clarity wash over him; he couldn't allow himself to be consumed by grief. Not now. Not when Jay was looking to him for strength.

In the days following the funeral, Will continued to shoulder the weight of their father's estate, the endless phone calls, the meetings with the funeral home, and the arrangements for everything that needed to be settled. He buried himself in the tasks, using them as a distraction from his own heartache.

But as the world around him began to resume its normal pace, the feelings of emptiness crept back in. At work, he smiled and joked with his colleagues, but inside he felt like a ghost, haunted by memories and the reality of his loss.

"Hey, Will, you okay?" Natalie asked one evening as they sat together on her couch, the warmth of her presence soothing but not enough to quell the turmoil inside him.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Will replied, forcing a smile. "Just busy with work."

"Right. Just remember, I'm here if you need to talk," she said softly, concern etching her features.

Will nodded, appreciating her support but unable to let her in completely. He couldn't let himself fall apart—not when Jay needed him to be strong.

After a few weeks, Will and Jay made plans to go to the lake where their father had taken them every summer.

It was a place filled with memories, laughter, and a sense of peace. They had decided to spread their father's ashes there, hoping to find closure in the serene beauty of the lake.

As they drove, the tension in the car was palpable. Jay gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white as he focused on the road ahead. Will sat silently in the passenger seat, staring out the window, lost in thought. They were together yet completely alone in their grief.

"Do you think this is the right place?" Jay finally asked, breaking the silence.

"It was Dad's favorite spot," Will replied, forcing a smile despite the heaviness in his chest. "He always loved the sunsets here."

Jay nodded, but Will could see the struggle etched on his brother's face. They were both grappling with their emotions, but the words to express their grief felt trapped in their throats.

As they arrived at the lake, the setting sun painted the sky in hues of orange and purple, casting a warm glow over the water. They walked to the dock, the sound of their footsteps echoing in the stillness. Will felt the weight of the moment pressing down on him, the gravity of what they were about to do settling in his bones.

"Are you ready?" Will asked, turning to Jay.

"I guess so," Jay replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

They took a moment to gather their thoughts, each lost in their own world. Will felt the tears prick at the corners of his eyes as he thought about their father—the man who had shaped their lives in countless ways.

Finally, they stood together, their father's ashes in hand. Will took a deep breath, feeling the warmth of Jay's presence beside him. "This is for you, Dad," he said softly, his voice trembling.

With a nod, they scattered the ashes into the lake, watching as the water embraced their father's memory. The wind picked up slightly, and for a moment, Will felt as if he could sense his father's spirit surrounding them.

Sniffing, Jay bit his lip, as he held back tears. He couldn't bare to watch his father's ashes drifting off into the lake, turning around he began to head back to the car, head tilted toward the ground to avoid breaking down in front of Will.

Will, on the other hand, chose to linger at the dock a little longer, mesmerized by the sight of his father's ashes drifting in the wind, praying that he was finally at peace.

But just as the weight of the moment began to lift, Will suddenly felt lightheaded. He hadn't eaten properly in days, and the exhaustion of the past weeks was catching up with him. His vision blurred, and before he could register what was happening, he stumbled.

"Will?" Jay's voice echoed in the distance as Will's world went dark.

Jay turned sharply, hearing the loud thud as Will collapsed onto the dock. Panic surged through him, adrenaline coursing as he rushed over. "Will!" he shouted, dropping to his knees beside his brother.

"Will, wake up!" Jay shook him gently, fear tightening his chest as he assessed the situation. Will lay motionless, his skin pale and clammy. "Come on, Will, don't do this to me."

Jay felt his heart racing as he checked for signs of consciousness. "Please, Will!"

Desperation flooded him as he fumbled for his phone, dialing 911 with shaking hands. He stayed by Will's side, feeling utterly helpless. "Just hold on," he whispered, fighting back tears. "Please, just hold on."

As he waited for help to arrive, Jay couldn't shake the overwhelming fear that gripped him. He had spent the last few weeks pushing Will away, but now he was terrified of losing his brother, the only family he had left.

When the sirens finally pierced through the quiet of the lake, Jay felt a wave of relief wash over him. Paramedics rushed to the scene, and as they began to assess Will, Jay stood back, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Is he going to be okay?" Jay asked, his voice thick with emotion.

"We're going to take care of him," one of the paramedics assured him, but Jay could see the concern in their eyes.

As they loaded Will onto a stretcher, Jay's heart sank. He knew he should have noticed how exhausted Will had become, how he had been pushing himself to the brink. "I'm so sorry, Will," he whispered, his voice breaking as he watched them take his brother away.

When Will finally opened his eyes, the harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital room made him squint. He turned his head slowly, confusion clouding his thoughts, but then he saw Jay sitting in the corner, his head resting on his arms, asleep in a chair.

"Jay?" Will croaked, his voice raspy from disuse.

Jay jolted awake, eyes wide with shock and relief. "Will! You're awake!" He rushed to his brother's side, gripping his hand tightly.

"What happened?" Will asked, trying to piece together the fragments of memory. "The lake… I remember…"

"You collapsed," Jay explained, his voice trembling. "You scared the hell out of me, Will. I thought—" He swallowed hard, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I thought I was going to lose you."

Will felt a pang of guilt wash over him. "I'm sorry, Jay. I didn't mean to worry you. I just… I've been so overwhelmed, and I thought I could handle everything."

"Why didn't you say something?" Jay's voice was barely above a whisper, and Will could see the hurt etched on his brother's face. "I had no idea you were struggling so much."

"I thought if I just kept going, I could be there for you," Will admitted, the weight of his guilt crashing down. "But I should have been honest with you. I just—I feel like I failed Dad. I couldn't save him, and now I'm failing you too."

Jay shook his head, shocked by Will's confession. "You didn't fail anyone, Will. None of this is your fault. You did everything you could."

"But I should have done more," Will insisted, emotion thick in his voice. "I should have saved him."

"Will, Dad was sick. You can't blame yourself for something that wasn't in your control," Jay urged, his voice rising slightly with intensity. "I never realized how much you were hurting. I was so wrapped up in my own grief that I didn't see you."

"I didn't want to burden you," Will admitted, tears welling in his eyes. "I wanted to be strong for you."

"But we're supposed to be strong for each other," Jay replied, frustration lacing his words. "You don't have to carry this weight alone. I'm here for you, and I should have been there for you all along."

As the truth of Jay's words sank in, Will felt the floodgates open. He let out a shaky breath, tears spilling down his cheeks as the guilt and sorrow poured out of him. "I'm so sorry, Jay. I tried to be strong. I just didn't want to let you down."

"You could never let me down," Jay said, pulling Will into a tight embrace. "You're my brother. We'll face this together, I promise."

For the first time since their father's death, Will felt the weight of his grief begin to lift. In the midst of their pain, he realized that they were not alone; they had each other.

"I love you, Jay," Will whispered, his voice muffled in his brother's shoulder. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"I love you too, Will," Jay replied, his voice thick with emotion. "We'll get through this. Together."