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Every time she loses him, it hurts a little more
And she’s thinking of this when she hears that verdict for the first time, thinking of all the times when Jake Peralta has been taken from her. The first time, when he went undercover in the mafia for six months. Six long months of her staring at his empty desk, cleaned and unoccupied, and thinking of the things he said to her before he left. And when he got back, thanking her lucky stars that he would be here to stay.
Her lucky stars weren’t listening that day, it seemed, because once she finally accepted the things he said to her (and she had felt them too, maybe for longer than she wanted to admit) and she and Jake had suddenly found a scrap of happiness, Jake had been taken from her again. Jimmy Figgis had swept him away, leaving her feeling a little more empty and a little more broken than she had been the time before.
This was different.
Because those things had happened in a whirlwind, in a storm. They had happened all at once, giving her and Jake no time to brace themselves before the wind picked up or the tides rolled in and he was swept away.
This was different. This was worse.
Because this time, she’d had months. Two months of knowing that she could lose him, that he was slipping through her fingers like grains of sand, that someday soon she would reach out to take his hand and be met with nothing but the cold metal of prison bars instead of his warm, gentle fingers. But she hadn’t done anything. She had tried, once, in a rare moment of quiet, to get Jake to talk to her, but he wouldn’t say anything to her. He couldn’t. She had felt his throat swell up, heard him swallowing a lump in his throat. She had seen bright tears forming in his eyes and had ignored the matter, just holding him tight and letting him deal with his emotions however he saw fit.
But the verdict, the very scenario she and Jake had masterfully avoided talking about for those two months, had been passed and Jake had been found guilty.
He was going to jail.
They didn’t have a solution.
He was going. To. Jail.
At the banging of the gavel, Jake had turned to her. She’d held his gaze, noting that his face was pale and drawn and his eyes were shining. He reached for her, fingers stretching across the vast distance lying between them. Amy’s hand reached desperately, needing to feel his touch one last time.
Their fingers almost touched before Jake’s hands were forced behind his back and cuffed together.
He didn’t struggle. He didn’t fight back. The fight was gone from him. He stood, limply, expression blank, as he was dragged away across the courtroom.
She shouted for him, she knows she did, and she remembers hearing him yell back, but she doesn’t know what he said. She might never know what they said to one another, but she wishes she does. God, she wishes she does, because she realizes only after he is removed from the courtroom that this moment is their last goodbye before all their conversations are held through a prison window.
When he’s pulled away and gone, she looks around desperately for Rosa, for Rosa who was her rock during the last time Jake was taken from her. Rosa is fighting back, struggling and slowing the bailiffs who try and take her away. She’s yelling, she’s screaming, and Amy hears Rosa’s voice shatter and break.
“Rosa!” Amy shouts, and Rosa’s head whips to face her. Rosa looks stricken, and seeing her showing that strong emotion stabs Amy to her core. Rosa is normally so stalwart, so brave, and she’s obviously terrified. It wounds her, and she’s so taken aback that whatever she had wanted to say was lost in the moment and forgotten.
She sees Rosa’s lips form her name. Amy. And then something else. And she’s not sure, because it seems so out of place coming from Rosa, but she thinks it’s I love you.
And then Rosa is gone and Jake is gone and Amy is left.
Alone.
Alone.
Alone.
Last time Jake had left her, they hadn’t moved in together and her house had still felt empty. This time, it felt even worse. Somehow. Like she had moved into a new apartment while she wasn’t looking and now occupied some new space that look exactly the same.
Half of the stuff in her apartment was his, and she could barely stand to look at any of it. His life lay scattered around her in the things, and they were a painful reminder that he’s gone. He was gone and they couldn’t worm their way out of this one.
She looked around her apartment forlornly, seeing echoes of him everywhere.
Her place had never felt this desolate before.
She moved on from that, before that thought sent her into a spiral worse than the one on that plane almost a full year ago. She moved swiftly to the bathroom to splash water on her face. She avoided looking at her face in the mirror, instead inspecting the stuff he’d left behind in there. His toothbrush. Shaving cream.
His toothbrush was tucked in a corner in the bathroom drawer, hiding. She considered hiding it so she wouldn’t have to see it, but she decided against it. Jake was getting out on appeal. She knew it. Because he was innocent. Because he couldn’t be knocked down for long.
She wandered around her apartment, touching the things that belonged to him. In their bedroom was his collection of button-up shirts and hoodies. One denim jacket, which she had teased him mercilessly for but he had refused to get rid of. His half of the sock drawer was filled with unmatched socks, somehow not a single one matching another. His jeans were all stained and torn, and not artfully torn either. He had one pair that was clean and pristine (and Amy had bought it for him) and they hung away from the rest of his clothes so that he wouldn’t “Jake it up” (his words, not hers this time).
She felt her eyes burn with tears but she didn’t let them fall. She steeled herself up to head to work.
When she stepped into the precinct, all eyes are immediately on her. She could feel it, feel everyone staring at her.
The room was still, until Charles broke the tension. He let out a loud unidentifiable noise and pulled her into his arms in a tight hug.She wouldn’t have asked for it, but it was surprisingly nice.
Terry was the next one to come to her, giving her a rough hug, his well-muscled arms enclosing both her and Charles. “I’m so sorry,” said Terry. “This is, like, the saddest story I’ve ever heard.”
She nodded, not trusting her voice to carry whatever she was thinking. She wasn’t sure who came next, Gina maybe, and then her squad was there, holding on in the middle of a storm.
After probably the longest hug of her life, it was the Captain broke away first. “Santiago, I need to see you in my office. The rest of you… back to work.”
The group went their separate ways, except for Amy and Holt. She followed him into his office, closing the door behind him.
“Please, have a seat,” said the Captain, gesturing to one of the two chairs by his desk. They sat down together. Amy didn’t know what to say, contenting herself with staring at the tiny rainbow flag propped up by pens and pencils. “Santiago, I felt it necessary to remind you that we here at the Nine Nine are going to do everything in our power to bring them home. We are not giving up on them because we lost the trial.”
And she knew that. It wasn’t really something she needed to hear. But hearing it, hearing it from him, made more of a difference than she expected it to. She nodded again, still not making eye contact with her Captain. “Thank you, sir,” she murmured, eyes falling to stare at her own knees.
“Santiago…” the Captain started, trailing off meaningfully. Her eyes rose, meeting his. His expression was steely, determined. Soft. Earnest. “...We all love them, Santiago. And we are going to fight for our family.”
Tears rose in her eyes at those words. She believed him, and she trusted him.
“We’re going to do everything we can,” he said, and then his arm rose slowly to point at the door. “I’m sorry, but we both have work to do.”
She nodded, and stood up. The eyes of the precinct were on her again, but this time she ignored them. She had a job to do and a boyfriend to acquit.
She would wait for him. However long it took, even if he served the full fifteen years, she would wait for him.
She had made him a promise, and Amy Santiago kept her promises.