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City light filtered into the dark apartment as Jay Halstead sat up in the king-size bed he shared with his wife and fellow detective, Hailey Upton. His entire body ached with phantom pain, his heart pounding so strongly it almost felt like his ribs would crack under the strain. He was drenched in sweat, white t-shirt sticking to his skin, but he was quiet. Not a single cry of protest had passed his lips during his slumber or his abrupt waking.
A quick glance to his side showed that Hailey still slumbered undisturbed, blonde hair spread against the dark pillow like a halo, pink lips parted slightly as she gave a quiet snore that he loved teasing her about while she vehemently argued it didn’t exist.
A few cautious movements shifted the blankets and allowed him to climb out of bed, freezing and Hailey made a small sound and shifted once in her sleep. That was the only response to his disturbance and Jay let out the breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. A quick motion and the damp t-shirt was crumpled on the floor.
The floor was cold in the Chicago night and area rugs did little to alleviate the chill as he made his way to the kitchen. The cabinet that held their liquor was a temptation, as were the cold beers in the fridge, but Jay grabbed a bottle of water and drained it in one go, shivering as the cool liquid worked its way through his body.
Almost aimlessly, he made his way to the large window that dominated one wall, bright traffic lights and headlights cutting through the darkness with regularity, neon signs flashing here and there. It wasn’t quite on par with New York, but Chicago itself rarely slept either. He saw none of it, though. Instead, unseeing blue eyes were looking inwards, backwards, at the horrors he’d faced during his time in the military.
Missions that were classified. People, American and foreign, that he couldn’t name even if he could bring himself to. Blood, bright red and then the color of burnt copper spilling onto the hot desert sand. Trying to get the taste of bile out of his mouth with water brackish with chemicals. Gunfire a rat-a-tat white noise in the distance before it grows louder, the boom! of explosions shaking the unsteady ground beneath his feet.
Friends, skin pale and eyes shuttered…
Jay jumped slightly, hunching over in a defensive posture as he turned towards the slim hand that had touched his shoulder, gentle fingers tracing over the sandpaper scars of an old injury. A flash of regret settled in his gut at Hailey’s wide blue eyes, her hands raised in front of her in a gentling manner, showing that she’s no threat.
He knew Hailey was no innocent schoolgirl, that she’d seen some bad stuff on the job, but he hated being the reason she looked like that.
“Rough night?” As Jay relaxed his defensiveness, Hailey dropped her hands and moved next to him, snagging his bottle and taking a few sips before giving it back. She wrinkled her nose at the water; she was thankful he hadn’t needed to turn to alcohol, but nights like this were sometimes easier with the crutch.
She knew that from experience; both dealing with his demons as well as her own.
“The case earlier…” he shrugged slightly. She knew as well as he did what they’d spent the past week and a half sloughing through. She’d been right there beside him, after all, his partner in all things.
She shivered as her mind’s eye flashed to the poor teenagers, thrown away like trash once they were no longer useful.
Jay reached out slightly and pulled Hailey into his arms, eyes still staring out the window as she settled against him. She was warm against his chilled skin, and he absently wondered how long he had been out of bed before she’d realized he was gone. They stood in companionable silence, each simply taking strength from the presence of the other, for a few minutes before Hailey shivered again and pulled herself out of her husband’s arms.
Reaching down, she linked their hands instead and pulled him slightly in the direction of their room. “It’s cold.”
He leaned backwards slightly, a gentle resistance that stopped her in her tracks. “I don’t know if I’m ready to sleep,” he finally admitted. It wasn’t something he would’ve been open to sharing a few years ago, even with someone he was in love with, and it was murmured quietly into the night.
“Who said anything about sleeping?”
Jay laughed abruptly, shaking his head. “I don’t know that I’m up for that, either.” It was a hard-fought battle against masculine image he had grown up with, served with and under, that made her shake her head in exasperation.
“Don’t be an ass,” she muttered, pulling him with more strength to their bedroom. She waited as he made a pitstop in the bathroom before shoving him down on the bed with little ceremony. She turned off the bedside lamp she’d turned on upon waking and settled in next to him, head on his bare shoulder, fingers linked in a silent show of solidarity.
Jay lay stiffly, half-expecting Hailey to demand he begin talking, begin ripping open the wounds in his soul that had just barely healed, before he relaxed slightly. Guilt crawled through his belly at the uncharitable thought he’d just held. Hailey had never been one to demand such a thing, even before they’d had their courthouse ceremony.
Instead, she’d always done her best to be a solid, uncompromising presence in his life. Silent support until he was ready and willing to talk. She’d demanded the same thing from him.
It was some time later, tiredness making the chilly air hazy, the warmth of the bed, ridiculous pile of covers a seductive warm weight, and the solid presence of his wife a quiet comfort, that Jay once again drifted off to sleep.