Work Text:
'cause i know i’ll never be lonely
for you are the stars to me
you are the light i follow
She cries.
She cries and cries and cries into his shoulder until she’s certain her body can’t physically produce any more tears. His fingers are tangled in her hair, his hand runs tiny patterns on the small of her back, his arms are wrapped around her while he holds on to her small frame with just as much desperation as she holds on to him.
She knows his shirt is stained with her tears and she knows her hair must be damp with his, but she still clings onto him with all the strength she can muster up. She clings to him as if the entire world isn’t collapsing around her and the rug hasn’t been pulled out from underneath her feet. She clings on to him as if her hold on him might be enough to anchor him in place - anchor him so that maybe he won’t leave her, anchor him so that maybe he’ll stay.
She feels his thumb press into the base of her neck - the tiny amount of pressure bringing her just enough comfort before she feels a fresh round of tears make their presence known. She tries to hold them back as best she can, but despite her best efforts, the pesky tears still find their way down the sides of her face. She buries herself into him completely, her nose pressed into the warmth of his chest while the beat of his heart kept her grounded and centered in a world that suddenly seemed so unsteady.
She wants to be strong for him.
She wants to show her unwavering support to him, for him.
This decision he’s gone out and made all on his own was a choice he made for the both of them - a decision that is no doubt going to uproot her entire life for the next eight months. A decision that is going to alter the course of her life until he comes back, a decision she’s not sure how she’s going to cope or live with.
She hates this.
She hates that this is where they are - hates that this is how their story is going to go. She hates that no matter what she does, that no matter what she says - he’s leaving today and there's nothing she can do about it. She hates that after the countless times they'd promised each other that they'd always be a unit and figure things out together - that no matter what was thrown their way and no matter how bad things got, they’d tackle it together.
As partners.
As spouses.
She knows their job is stressful, knows their line of work is filled with difficult decisions and unfathomable situations that can blur the lines for even the most decent and respectable cops. She knows that their career can cause one to slip so far from themselves to the point where they become unrecognizable - making decisions and choices they swore they’d never make.
She knows this.
She knows all too well from her own personal experience how easy it is to make one singular bad choice and how that one single decision can disrupt your entire being and set you off down a path you swore you’d never walk down. She's been there - she's walked that fine line - and she's grateful that she’s finally back in a good headspace again.
That she’s finally back to being the detective she knows she wants to be.
But to watch her husband fall down the rabbit hole?
To watch her husband lose himself to the point where he can’t even recognize himself anymore?
It breaks her into a million little pieces, like a broken glass shattered on the floor. A sob gets caught in the back of her throat and she tries so very hard to hold it back, but it bubbles to the surface and breaks free. She grasps at his shoulders to help balance herself, the weight of the situation causing her to sway and stumble on her own two feet. His fingers are still dancing against the fabric of her shirt - the friction of his skin against hers is one of the only things that’s still keeping her upright.
He’s here, she reminds herself - he's still right here. The for now that echoes in her ear is haunting and echos on a loop and it reminds her that this feeling of his arms around her is only temporary. That soon, he’s going to let her go and she won’t be able to feel this type of safety and comfort with him for eight whole months.
She wishes she could do more to help him - she wants to do more to help him.
She wants to fix this.
She wants him to stay.
But she saw it in his eyes when he broke the news to her, he wanted this - no, he needed this.
And she’s going to do her damn best to be the wife she promised him she would be - even if it means letting her husband leave for a foreign country only months after they said I do.
In sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy.
She just wonders where this leaves her.
How does she survive eight months without the one constant in her life that’s stayed by her side through the darkest of times? Who does she talk to at the end of a tough day when he’s the only person she trusts with her heart? Who’s gonna hold her hand and give her the strength she needs to go through with all those difficult decisions at work?
Suddenly she’s got a thousand different thoughts flashing by like bolts of lightening in the back of her head: Will they be able to talk? Can they even make this work long distance? How is she going to do this without him?
She feels his thumb presses against the curve of her spine and his hot breath whispers, “I love you,” into her ear and the only thing she can think of in that moment is that soon, she won’t know what it feels like to have his warm breath tickle her skin and suddenly it all seems to hit her at once.
He’s leaving.
Jay’s leaving.
For eight whole months, she won’t know the feeling of his arms around her.
For eight whole months, she won’t know what it's like to fall apart underneath him.
For eight whole months, she won't have him to turn too or keep her grounded when things get rocky.
“I can’t,” she chokes on her words, guttural sobs buried deep in her chest bubbling to the surface. “Jay.”
For eight whole months, she won’t wake up in his arms.
“Hey, hey,” he mumbles, trying to pull away from her grip on him. She doesn't let it happen, pushing her body further into his and falling against him in a desperate fit of tears she can’t seem to control. “It’s gonna be okay.”
For eight whole months she won’t have him to turn too and she won’t have him to confide in when things get tough.
“Jay,” she sobs into his neck, nails digging into his back through the fabric of his tee. She buries her head into his neck, trying to conceal her face from him and bury herself into the comfort of his arms. She feels him place his hands against her shoulders and she knows he’s trying to pull her back so he can look her directly in her eyes. Everything aches - her chest is tight and it feels like she can’t catch a full breath, like there’s not enough air in her lungs. She gasps out, “Jay,” again through battered breaths. “Jay.”
“Hailey,” he sighs, his own voice strained with tears when he tucks her back into the safety of his arms. Her knees buckle - the gravity and weight of his news settling against her shoulders like a tonne of bricks. He holds her up though, catching her fragile frame as if he’s her own personal pillar of strength. “I've got you, Hails. I’ve got you.”
“I can’t do it,” she stutters. Her words are broken - shaky tears forcing her to stumble on her words. “I can’t…without you. I can’t.”
“You can,” he says, his warm breath against her skin one of the gentle reminders that he’s still here. “I know you can.”
He won’t be for long though.
He won’t be here.
He’s leaving.
Jay’s leaving.
The nagging reminder in the back of her head burst open the flood gates and she suddenly has no control over her own body. She sobs, pain buried deep within her bones bubbling to the surface with an ache she knows will never fade until he’s back in her arms for good.
“I can’t,” she stumbles on her words and the tightness in her chest intensifies. “I can’t breathe.”
“Okay.” He doesn’t give her a moment to protest, pulling back from her embrace and grabbing at her hand, walking with her carefully to the other side of their sofa. “C’mere, let’s sit down for a minute, alright?”
“Jay,” her words are shaky when his name falls off her tongue. She tries to reach for him through blurry vision, but the only thing she feels is his hand in hers and his palm running circles against the small of her back. “Jay.”
“Follow my breathing, okay?”
She feels Jay shifts towards her and she tries to focus on the ocean of green that’s watching over her like a hawk - like she’s the only thing in the world he needs to pay attention to. He breathes in and she follows him through the tears that are clouding her vision. It’s hard to fill her lungs with enough air, her chest heavy and unstable, but still she follows his lead and puts her trust in his movements. He squeezes her hand tightly in his, a silent reminder that he’s here - he’s with her and he’s not going anywhere.
Except it’s not true - he is going somewhere.
It’s enough to almost shake her again, but Jay’s there - he’s always there - breathing in and out in front of her and she repeats his notions dozens of times before she finally starts to feel like she has control over her own body again.
Before she finally feels like the air in her lungs has returned.
“Better?”
She doesn’t have the strength to speak, doesn’t have the strength to answer the question still lingering between them. Everything is so overwhelming and she can’t seem to process everything that’s happened all at once. When she woke up this morning, the only thing she knew was that she and her husband had the day off. She thought they’d spend it like the always did - cuddled up in bed until the late hours of morning, grabbing lunch at one of their favorite spots because they couldn’t get up in time for breakfast, watching their latest television pick curled up on the couch until they fell back into bed wrapped in each others arms once more.
She’s still overwhelmed by the direction this day has taken, still processing the conversation and news he’d just dropped on her at the drop of a hat. Jay’s leaving, her husband is leaving only a few months after they said I do. It’s not the story she thought she was writing with him, but she knows she has no choice but to deal with the cards life handed them and try to make it through this.
Make it through this together.
Just like the always did.
Just like they always would.
“I don’t know if I can do this without you, Jay,” she whispers.
It’s the only thing she can mutter after the moment of silence that stands between them. She falls against his chest and buries her face into his cotton shirt, a chill catches her and sends a shiver down her spine. She breaths in and all she can smell is him - cedar wood and orange blossom - the Gucci cologne she’d given him for his birthday this year.
“You can. Of course you can,” he says, rubbing her arm up and down and up and down trying to fill her with warmth. “You’re strong, Hails.”
“I’m not,” she mutters, her head shaking against his chest. “Not without you.”
“That’s not true,” he says. “You’re the strongest person I know.”
She isn’t sure how to respond to him so she lets the silence encompass them - easy and comfortable, just like it always was. It makes her question what silence will be like when he’s not around. She knows her thoughts will consume her, she knows her demons will haunt her while he’s not there to chase them away.
Guilt washes over her like a tidal wave - rough and all-consuming - pulling her into a riptide of thoughts and emotions she can’t even begin to comprehend. She’s stuck - she fights to push her way to the surface for oxygen but she’s pinned under the ocean’s current and she’s drowning in an endless train of thoughts that tell her she’s the blame for all of this, for everything.
You should have done more, she tells herself.
You should have seen the signs earlier and now it’s too late, her inner thoughts haunt her.
You should have said something sooner, her voice echos.
Maybe if she’d done more, maybe if she saw the signs, maybe if she spoke up sooner - maybe Jay wouldn’t be leaving for South America right now, maybe he wouldn’t be giving up his entire career as a detective, maybe this whole thing could have been avoided and everything would be okay.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbles into his chest.
“What for?” His lips brush against her temple when he speaks, a soft wisp of warm air that envelops her entire being in comfort. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Hails.”
“I feel like I failed you,” she says, hating the way the childlike tone reappears so vividly when she hears her voice. “As your friend. As your wife.”
“Hailey, you didn’t fail me,” he says, holding her tighter against him. “You could never fail me,”
“I…I could have done more. I should have done more,” she stutters. “I couldn’t help you through it. I couldn’t fix it. I couldn’t….I didn’t see how bad it had got for you. I couldn’t see how lost you were. I couldn’t….and now…now you’re leaving.”
“No, no, no,” he squeezes against her arm and rests his head against the top of hers. “Hey, this isn’t on you.”
“It feels like it should be,” she sinks into his embrace. She lets him carry some of this weight she’s buried under before he’s no longer here to do so. “I’m…I’m your wife. I should have spoken up sooner, I should have…”
“You did, Hailey,” he says while his thumb drags up and down her arm. “You’ve been telling me for weeks that I wasn’t acting like myself.”
“It wasn’t enough,” she whispers. “I didn’t do enough.”
“You did more than enough,” he says. “Hailey, if anything…I think you saved me.”
“What? How?”
“I…,” Jay trails off. “It’s so easy to look back and tell myself I was doing the right thing all the time. That I was always making the right calls and doing things by the book,” he continues, fingers still dancing on her arms. “And maybe I did most of the time. But, I didn’t, not always.”
“Jay,” she says softly, but he pushes through his thoughts.
“These past few weeks…hell, these past few months…something changed.”
“I loved being a detective, it filled a lot of voids for me after being overseas. It filled me with a purpose again after I felt like I didn’t have one anymore,” Jay says. “I came back from the frontlines and didn’t know who I was anymore. I was so lost. I didn’t know what to do with my life anymore. Joining the police force wasn’t something I ever saw myself doing, if I’m honest, but it filled a lot of voids for me after being overseas for so long. Voids I don’t even think I realized I had.”
She absorbs his words like a sponge, processing and reflecting and understanding. She knows he’s not done, so she waits - waits idle in his arms until he’s ready to share more with her. She tilts her head up, lets her lips graze his jaw bone before she tosses her arm across his stomach and settles against the steady beat of his heart. She relishes in it, tries to remember it’s perfect cadence for the nights she’s sad and lonely and wishes the melody of his heart would be able to rock her gently to sleep.
“PTSD was always a struggle for me and I know it’s always going to be, but something changed when you came along. You forced me to confront my issues head on - made me want to confront those issues head on,” he hums. “And that wasn’t something I ever wanted to do before. I..I ignored it, I pushed it aside, I always found a distraction.”
His fingers dance on her arm, the heat of his body radiates against her. She remembers when they first met. She remembers all too well how his PTSD caused him to go off the deep end. She remembers how she saw the avoidance in his eyes in dealing with it and how his distractions were something she wasn’t going to let jeopardize her life or her career. She’s glad he listened to her - she knows they wouldn’t be where they are right now if he hadn’t and imagining her life without Jay by her side? It’s not something she ever wants to become a reality.
“But this job? This job is grey and it’s a line I don’t want to walk anymore. The only thing I want at the end of the day is you. I finally found my purpose again, Hailey and it’s you,” he says softly. “It’s always going to be you.”
“Jay,” she tries again.
“You mean more to me than any job ever could, Hailey. I’d give it all up just to make sure I’m going to have you at the end of it all,” he says.
She can feel the emotion in his voice, hear the emotion in his voice when he says it. She lifts herself up off of his chest so she can look at him - look at him directly in his eyes and just be in this moment with him. She cups his face with both of her hands, skimming her thumb under his eyes and catching the stray tear that slips from the green ocean she stares into.
“So, I’m gonna go get my head on straight again,” he says with a finality. “I’m gonna go find myself again so I can be the best version of myself for you. For me. For us.”
“Okay,” she nods, pesky tears falling from the corners of her eyes once more. “Okay.”
“I love you,” he whispers to her, his lips inches from hers. “So much.”
“I love you, too.”
“And while I might not be here with you physically,” she tenses at his words and she knows he feels it because he squeezes against her hips just a little bit tighter. “I know, babe. I know. But, look - they’ll only be an hour between us so we can still call and text and video chat as much as we want. I know it’s gonna be different, but I’ll still be here for you just like I always am.”
“It’s not the same,” she whispers back to him.
“I know, Hails.” he says in agreement. “I know.”
Silence falls around them like a cloak, - thick and heavy - but it’s anything from suffocating. Jay pushes forward and presses his lips against her forehead - soft, warm, lingering - it fills her with a strength she know’s she going to have to bottle up and hold on to for the moments he’s not there to hold her hand.
“How much time do we have?”
His lips lift from her forehead before he says, “My flight is at 9.”
It’s like a bucket of ice water and splashed it over her entire being. Isolating, shocking, all-consuming. She’s back under the water, caught in a wave, caught in a current she can’t swim her way out of. She’s gone her entire life without someone by her side, she’s gone her entire life on her own but now that she knows what it’s like to have him?
She doesn’t want to have to learn how to do this on her own again.
She just wants Jay.
“Jay, that’s in three hours.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispers and if he wasn’t so close she’s certain she wouldn’t have heard him speak. “I just knew if I didn’t rip the band-aid off…”
“…you’d fall down this hole even deeper.”
“I want to be better,” he tells her. “For me. For you. For us.”
She nods.
It's happening whether she likes it or not and she knows that.
It’s happening and he’s leaving.
Jay is leaving.
Her husband is leaving for eight months and there’s nothing she can do to stop it.
“So, 8 months?”
“8 months,” he reaffirms to her. “And then it’s us - forever.”
“Forever,” she echoes. “I like the sound of that.”