They were both enjoying the moment together, yet Erin couldn't keep her thoughts from drifting back to his mission. She couldn't really relax because she was so worried about him.

Her mind was a mess, stuck on a loop between the fear of losing him again and the hope that maybe they could have a future together. The universe had crossed their paths again, hadn't it?

She leaned her head on his shoulder. It felt surreal to have him so close after all these years. She never thought she would really have him back in her arms. She dreamed of it constantly, but never thought it could actually happen.

She thought about the emptiness she felt when she first moved away from Chicago. The first days alone in NY. The weeks of training in the FBI Academy in Quantico. She threw herself into training, but no matter what she did, the pain of his absence remained a constant companion.

It was a long painful road until her life started to feel kind of normal. She never stopped missing him, but somehow, she learned to push the pain aside. But every time she heard from Hank or saw anything about Chicago, it hit her full force.

Now she was in his arms again—completely unexpected—only for him to leave once more. It was hard to stop thinking about how much she would miss him once he left. She snuggled closer, holding him tighter as if she could somehow avoid his departure.

It was not just the fact that he was leaving but the knowledge of how dangerous this mission could be. As much as she didn't want her mind to go there, she knew it could be more than just a temporary separation. It could really be a final goodbye. And that thought was excruciating.

She didn't want to let him see that pain. He already carried so much weight, so much guilt and responsibility. The last thing she wanted was to add to that burden. So she kept it inside.

But she couldn't help dreaming and imagining that maybe they were really meant to be. Could they rebuild what they'd lost? Overcome their mistakes? Or was she just fooling herself? Maybe it was too late and he'd figure he was better off back in Chicago—with his wife.

More often than she would admit she had caught herself distracted at work picturing his eyes following her, like he used to do. She looked at him smiling, thinking how amazing it would be if they could work together as partners again.

"You know what? I meant it yesterday when I said you'd make a great Fed, Jay," she said finally, her voice soft.

"What? Me?" he asked. He was also distracted, lost in his own conflicted emotions.

"Yes," she said, nodding and smiling. "It's a lot like the army. The same structure and discipline you're looking for. And we work on some pretty big cases—nationwide, even international stuff. You'd be totally amazing at it."

"I don't know…" He leaned back and crossed his arms. "It feels like a world I don't belong to."

"What? Why is that?" she asked in disbelief. "You've already proven you can handle high-stakes situations. This would just be on a bigger scale."

"It seems too fancy." He shrugged. "I'm used to kicking doors and wrestling with the bad guys… you know?"

"And you don't think I do that anymore?"

"All dressed up like that?"

"I was in the office all day yesterday, we had this stupid meeting, and…" she started to defend herself but stopped, tilting her head and putting her hand on her hip, "So you don't think I can kick in a door in a suit, Halstead?"

"Oh… I'm sure you can… and I would just love to see it." He teased.

"Good! Because I do."

His brow furrowed, still not convinced. "What would I have to do?" he asked curiously.

"To see me kick your ass in a suit?"

"No," he said laughing, "to join the FBI."

"Well…" She shrugged, smiling. "Normally you'd apply and then go through training at Quantico. But with your experience…" She tilted her head and gave him a sly look. "I could talk to my boss. She's always on the hunt for top agents. I could probably get you into the fast-track program I did.

"Top agents, huh?" His eyebrows shot up. He knew she was feeding his ego on purpose.

"You would be perfect for the job, I'm serious, Jay." She reached out and poked his arm playfully. "Come on, you know you'd be good at it."

"Do you think we could work together again?" he asked suggestively. "Would you like to be my partner again, Special Agent Lindsay?"

"Bell…" she corrected quickly, her smile growing. "You would have to call me Bell. Maggie Bell."

"Maggie, huh?" he sat back, pretending to consider it. "I can get used to it. Remember when we used to go undercover together?"

"Like in the sex club?" she fired back with a smirk, her eyes gleaming.

His laugh came fast and loud, breaking the steady rhythm of their banter. "Oh my God! I had forgotten about that one!"

"Yeah right!" she rolled her eyes. "You thoroughly enjoyed that assignment, Halstead! Remember Ruz and Kev's faces when we got back after, what… five hours?"

"That was just priceless," he said, laughing out loud. "I'm not sure they really believed we were just working."

"Oh, shut up!" she swatted him playfully. "I was totally professional."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "But I was actually thinking about that other time in the casino. When you slapped me!"

She tilted her head, pretending innocence. "Oh? That was fun!"

"Fun? It hurt!" he exclaimed, rubbing his jaw as if the sting still lingered. "You really put some effort into that, huh?"

"Come on, don't be such a baby! It had to be believable. And…" she leaned a little closer, her voice dipping. "I'm pretty sure I made up for it later that night."

His smile softened as he raised his eyebrows, biting his lips. "Yeah, you did."

They sat quietly for a moment, trying to push away the memory of that hot night. Then he asked again, softer this time, "So? Would you like it? To be my partner again?"

"Mmm… I don't know," she said, her face suddenly serious.

His brow furrowed. "Why not?"

She let the silence stretch before breaking into a grin. "How am I going to be able to focus on work and boss around, while looking at your hot face dressed in a suit all day?"

She stopped herself before mentioning how much it would turn her on to see him kicking a door in a suit. Her heart would always race watching him kicking doors—not just because of the adrenaline of the moment—she always thought it was kinda sexy.

He threw his head back and laughed. "Ooh, I hadn't thought about that. It would certainly be reeeally hard on you."

"Really hard," she repeated, her grin growing.

He leaned in closer to her ear, lowering his voice to a sexy tone. "I don't even need to suit up to be irresistible."

"You don't," she admitted, laughing softly. "It's a real problem."

"Good thing I'm humble," he quipped, giving her a crooked grin and kissing her cheek loudly.

"You know you wouldn't really need to wear a suit all the time," she said, almost pouting, as if still trying to convince him.

"Maybe someday…", he said softly, considering it.

"Someday," she repeated, smiling.

In that moment, she realized how easy it was to fall back into their playful tone—like no time had passed. She missed this.

Their laughter faded slowly, and Erin watched as his smile flickered, then dimmed altogether. He leaned back, running a hand through his hair, but his heavy-lidded eyes betrayed his exhaustion.

"Jay," she said softly, tilting her head. Her voice carried a note of concern as she studied his face. "You alright?"

"Yeah," he said but the word came out faint and unconvincing. "Just tired. I didn't really sleep at all at night."

"You spent the whole night watching me drooling while I slept?" she teased gently, hoping to bring a bit of lightness back into the moment.

He chuckled softly, his lips quirking into a smirk. "Pretty sure I was the one drooling for you."

"Jay…" She blushed, her smile turning shy as a warm flush crept up her cheeks.

He reached out and brushed his fingers against her cheek, a faint grin lingering but the weight of exhaustion showed in the way his eyelids drooped and his head tilted slightly.

She moved closer, placing her hand lightly on his arm. She softened her gaze as she looked at him. "Why don't you try to sleep a little?" she suggested gently, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I don't want to sleep," he murmured. "I'll have to go soon, Er…"

"You're not leaving anytime soon, Jay," she said, her voice firm but sad. "What time is your flight? You said it was at night."

"11:30 at night."

"Ok… we have time, and I can take you to the airport."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't think I'd be able to walk away if you do."

She felt the pain in her chest. She knew exactly what he meant. It was the same reason she had fled Chicago without saying goodbye to him in the first place.

"Then don't," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"I have to," he said, his voice catching slightly. "I'll just have to say goodbye here."

She closed her eyes for a moment, fighting the anger that threatened to take over. "Stop with this goodbye crap, Jay. It feels like you mean it's forever."

"I don't know what's going to happen, Er," he said, his voice low and vulnerable. "I don't think it would be fair to string you along… ask you to wait for me."

"You should have thought about that before showing up at the headquarters," she snapped, frustrated. "You knew what would happen. You knew you'd be turning my world upside down."

"I didn't even think you were going to listen to me, Er," he sighed, shaking his head, not knowing what else to say. "I'm sorry…"

"Don't be, I'm glad you came," she said, shaking her head, though her heart ached. "Just… don't say goodbye."

He looked at her, his eyes dark with conflict. He didn't know what she was really asking from him. "I have to go, Erin… even if my heart is shattering again."

His confession caught her off guard. She opened her mouth to reply, but instead she looked up, trying to hold back her tears, then closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"I've already committed. You know I can't just not show up."

"Damn it, Jay! I know you have to go, I know," her voice broke. "But still… don't say goodbye. Please."

He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to hers for a moment, resisting the urge to kiss her. "Okay," he whispered, his voice breaking, a promise he didn't know how he would be able to keep.

She wanted to scream, to tell him that she had never stopped loving him, that her heart had never truly let go. But he was married. And worse—he was leaving. She couldn't bring herself to voice the truth that terrified her: she didn't know how she would survive when he walked out the door. She wasn't even sure she would.

She felt the weight of his head resting on her shoulder, his body exhausted from the sleepless night. Tenderly, she shifted her legs off his lap, guiding him gently to lie down on the couch with his head cradled in her lap.

For over two hours, she watched him sleep, soothing him with the lightest touches. Her fingers traced the line of his jaw, brushed through his hair, caressed his face with a softness that seemed to speak volumes more than words ever could.

He completely relaxed under her touch, drifting into a peaceful sleep. A tear rolled down her cheek, but she took a deep breath and just continued with the soft strokes for a long time.

She noticed the subtle twitch of his lips, the faintest smile curling across his face as he remained lost in slumber. Her heart fluttered, and she paused, holding her breath. She didn't want to disturb the peaceful moment.

"Don't stop," his voice was soft, barely audible as he mumbled with his eyes still closed. "It feels so good."

She smiled, the warmth in her chest growing. "Go back to sleep, baby… I want to make us lunch."

He cracked one eye open, just enough to meet her gaze. "You're gonna cook for me?"

"Yes," she said grinning, her voice light. "I've gotten a little better at it… promise, you'll be surprised."

He smiled again, the simple, quiet joy of it making her heart ache. Without a word, he closed his eyes once more, surrendering to sleep. She spent a few more minutes lightly stroking his face and his hair until she was sure that he was sleeping again. She pressed a gentle kiss to his head and carefully slid a pillow under his head to replace her legs, continuing to watch over him as he slept.

She stepped into the kitchen, taking a deep breath before opening the fridge. She could feel the weight of her own expectations pressing down on her. She was determined to get this right, to make something he would love and that would show just how much she cared. The nerves crept in, and with them, the familiar pressure she'd put on herself.

Back when they lived together, she had been a disaster in the kitchen—always burning something or cutting herself, never quite getting the recipes right. It was him who took over most nights, effortlessly cooking while she teased him about being the househusband. He was happy with it, though. He was happy with her. Until everything fell apart. The bombshell of discovering he was still married to Abby. It shattered everything.

He packed and left her, saying he didn't want her caught up in his mess. And now they had been together for 18 hours with him still being kinda faithful to his new wife somehow. No matter the situation. He was always trying to do the right thing. She respected that. She admired that. It was one of the things that had made her fall for him in the first place.

After she'd moved to New York, she'd decided enough was enough. She was tired of takeout and delivery. So she started to teach herself how to cook, experimenting with new recipes, pushing herself in the kitchen. There was no one to disappoint when she messed up—just her. And if she failed, it was easy enough to throw it away and call for delivery.

It wasn't like she cooked every day now; it remained more of a sporadic hobby, something she worked on when she had time. She had learned to make a few dishes that were pretty good, but this… this was different. She was going to make him a meal so good that it would leave him wanting to come back just to eat it again.

A dark voice whispered in her mind that this could be their last meal together. No. She shook her head. She couldn't think like that. She glanced over at him, still sleeping, and pushed the thought away.

This wasn't the end. It couldn't be. It was just the beginning.

Over an hour passed as she worked, moving around the kitchen with focused determination, glancing at him every now and then. He was still asleep—at least she thought he was. She set the table, carefully placing the plates and straightening the silverware.

Finally, she removed her apron, took a deep breath, and sighed in relief. Her hands shook just slightly as she surveyed the table, but she couldn't help the smile that crept across her face. She was proud of herself. Really proud. She hadn't let herself down this time.

Then she looked up. His eyes were open, watching her. She froze for a moment, unsure if he'd been watching her or just woken up, but his gaze was warm and full of admiration.

He chuckled softly, his eyes still heavy with sleep.

"How long have you been up?" she asked, her voice slightly uncertain.

"I just woke up…" he replied, flashing her a sleepy but genuine smile.

"Well… time for the truth. C'mon…" she said, her nerves bubbling to the surface.

He stood up and took in the beautifully set table, his smile widening as he walked around, but when his eyes drifted past the island, they landed on the sink and he couldn't help but laugh. The sink looked like a war zone, dishes piled high and remnants of her cooking scattered all around. He shook his head grinning and looked back to the table.

"This looks amazing, and it smells incredible… is that…?" He leaned in, sniffing the air, clearly impressed.

"Beef Wellington… with cheese-risotto…" she replied, holding her breath a little.

"Wow!" His eyes widened, clearly stunned.

She'd known this was a risky move—Beef Wellington was his absolute favorite dish. His mom used to make it only for special occasions. It wasn't easy to make, but she wanted to impress him—give him something he'd really love.

"And you made this from scratch?" he asked, his voice filled with disbelief.

She smiled, a little self-conscious but proud. "C'mon… have a little faith!" She gestured toward the towering pile of dishes. "I mean, it's not like I haven't messed up before, but…"

He turned to look at the sink and couldn't help but laugh again.

She handed him the wine bottle and corkscrew. "Here," she said, her eyes twinkling with anticipation.

He uncorked the bottle with a flourish and poured them each a glass.

They both stood there for a moment, unsure what to toast to. "Cheers," they said in unison, clinking their glasses together, smiles spreading across their faces as they looked deeply into each other's eyes.

She watched him intently, her stomach fluttering as she waited for his reaction. The moment he took his first bite, his eyes went wide, and his jaw literally dropped.

"Holy fuck! This is AMAZING, Erin!" He was definitely impressed.

"Really?" A wide grin spread across her face, the nervousness melting away.

"Totally! Even better than mom's!" he exclaimed, shaking his head in disbelief.

"You don't need to lie to me," she teased, still grinning.

"I'm not lying!" He insisted, leaning back in his chair, clearly impressed. "I swear, this is perfect. I've never tasted anything so delicious!"

She smiled proudly.

"I could ask you to marry me just to eat this every day!" he blurted out, not thinking.

She froze, her smile instantly fading as the words hit her like a freight train. "If you weren't already married…"

The shift in her expression was so sudden, it almost made his stomach drop. He could see her face change from joy to shock, then to a deep sadness, all within a heartbeat.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly, cursing himself internally. "I didn't mean to—"

"It is what it is, Jay…" Her voice was softer now, a quiet acceptance in her eyes, though the pain was still there.

She looked up, struggling to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. Her heart felt heavy, but she couldn't stop them from coming.

"Fuck!" he muttered, his voice tinged with regret. He immediately stood up and walked around the table to her side, guilt flooding his chest.

"Come here, babe," he said softly, offering her his hand, his touch warm and reassuring.

She wiped her tears quickly as she stood, trying to steady herself.

"Erin…"

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice cracking. "It just… it hurts…"

"I'm so sorry, babe," he said, his words filled with remorse. "I'm an idiot… the last thing I wanted to do was to hurt you even more… I'm so sorry…"

She shook her head, trying to regain some composure. "I know it's been five years, and I shouldn't expect you not to have moved on or found love with someone else, but…"

"Wait, what?" his eyes widened. "No. I told you I got married because I was stupid… because I felt lost… because I was afraid to be alone. But… I've never really loved her…"

"You must love her, at least a little…"

"She was a friend when I needed one," he said, his voice softening. "She helped me in ways I'll always be grateful for. So I guess I kinda love her for that. But love? I know what love feels like, babe. So don't ever doubt it again, okay?"

Was he saying he loved her without actually saying it? Did he even need to? She could feel it in her bones—he loved her. She loved him more than anything, and deep down, she knew he felt the same.

He pulled her into a tight embrace, holding her until her breathing steadied and she was in control of herself again. He didn't let go, just staying there, comforting her silently.

"I'm glad you liked it though… the food… let's eat before we have to reheat it. I don't guarantee anything if we have to do that."

He kissed the top of her head before pulling back, a small smile tugging at his lips as he returned to his seat.

She smiled back at him, trying to push thoughts of Hailey away. She didn't want to ruin this moment—it had taken so much effort to make everything perfect for him.

They continued to eat and sip wine, and as he ate, he couldn't hide how impressed he was by her cooking. It felt like a small victory in the midst of everything else.

After they finished eating, he stood up and made his way toward the sink, surveying the mountain of dishes and pots that seemed to multiply with every glance. a daunting sight—plates, utensils, and cooking gear piled everywhere, a mess that would take a long time to tackle.

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to figure out where to start—there was just so much to clean. It was a battle he wasn't sure he was ready to fight, but it was his responsibility now.

The moment felt so familiar and domestic. She didn't even think about it—her arms wrapped around his waist, her lips pressing softly to his neck as she stepped on her tiptoes—just like she'd done a thousand times before. But this wasn't before, and the instant she felt him tense under her touch, it hit her. She froze, her heart suddenly racing, and pulled away quickly, her face burning as the weight of what she'd done caught up to her.

"Hmm… sorry… can I blame the wine?" she stammered, a nervous laugh escaping her.

He turned around slowly, his breathing labored. The unexpected gesture pulled at every nerve.

"Just leave it all there…" she said nervously trying to defuse the tension. Trying not to give in. "I'll call Grace tomorrow to help me clean up. I don't want you to waste any of the precious time we have left, cleaning up after me."

But he didn't say anything. She wasn't even sure he was listening. He stepped closer, his eyes locked into hers. He scanned her face, scanned her body for any sign, anything—begging silently for her to move towards him. But she didn't.

She quickly glanced away, fighting against her own feelings. Her heart was racing. Her hands tightened at her sides, and she took a shaky breath, trying to steady herself.

Her eyes darted back to his face for a fleeting moment, catching the hope in his eyes—hope she was too scared to encourage. She wanted so badly to move toward him, to close the distance and erase the years that had separated them. But she couldn't. She couldn't cross that line. Not now, not like this.

Instead, she folded her arms around herself, holding back the emotions threatening to spill over.

"We can't," she whispered.

"I know," he nodded, wondering how much longer he was going to be able to hold off.

A/N: thanks for the reviews... it means a lot! and please keep them coming. Let me know what you think.