Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jay tosses the knife back across the room, watching with a sick feeling settling in his gut as Selden reaches for one of the spray bottles on the conference room table.
“Now you’re going to take this.” the man says, gesturing with the bottle, “And spray it on the cut.”
Jay nods.
“Okay.” he tells the man, hoping that Voight has a plan to stop this before he is forced to infect himself, before Selden moves on to the next executive.
Selden bends his arm as if to throw and then freezes. Before Jay clocks the movement, the man is darting toward him, bringing the bottle down on his head. He reaches out with both arms, grabbing for the man, trying to push him back.
He hears gasps of shock, Voight shouting, and then everything is muted past the sound of cracking plastic. He freezes as he feels the liquid raining down over his head, dripping down his shoulders, over his arm.
Then a gunshot rings out and he feels Selden fall away from him, time beginning to move at normal speed once again.
Footsteps track his way, and he steps back, holding up both hands.
“Stay back!” he shouts.

Voight walks into the room, dropping David Selden with two bullets to center mass. But it’s too late. The bottle lays in pieces on the floor, its contents dripping over Jay’s head to run down his arms. He’s infected.
He steps forward, and his detective pulls back, both hands coming up.
“Stay back!” he shouts, and Voight freezes.
Behind him, Will starts talking.
“Andrea, I have multiple exposures and pooling biological material on the sixth floor. I need a containment team up here and treatment for at least two confirmed infected individuals.”
He turns to see the doctor speaking into his phone before letting his arm drop.
“Alright, everyone in this room is going to need to quarantine until we can get cultures back. If you haven’t been directly sprayed by the agent, please move to that side of the room. The CDC will be up momentarily to decontaminate everyone and then we will get exams done and cultures started.”
Voight nods to his team, taking the lead in moving where Will has directed, ushering the uninfected board members ahead of him. He’s taken care of the human threat. The biological one is up to Will and the CDC team.
Will glances at his brother, who still hasn’t looked up. Still standing by the window with hands raised as if to push everyone back.
“Jay.” he calls, glancing back at the other infected man who is sitting at the table still, breathing shallow and chest increasingly engulfed by the bacteria. “Sir. We have a viable antibiotic that can kill this thing. We’ll administer treatment soon. It’s going to be okay.”
Jay nods, reaching up with his uninjured arm to wipe away some of the liquid dripping down his face.
Will knelt in front of his other patient, taking vitals with gloved hands.
“My name is Will Halstead.” he tells the man, “I have a team from the CDC on their way up the stairs with an antibiotic right now. I just need you to breathe easy and relax.”
The man nods, but he is increasingly lethargic. For all the horror that they have felt watching how quickly this bacteria takes hold in people’s systems, it is nothing to the results of a pure isolate sprayed directly into an open wound.
He resists the urge to look back at his brother, knowing that this man is in the greatest need of his help.
The door opens and Andrea hurries in.
“We’re setting up decontamination in an open office space just down the hallway.” She reports to the group gathered by the wall. “If you follow this man, he will take you there and get you through the process.”
The board members race for the door, voices rising in anxious chatter. The members of Intelligence follow more slowly, most doing their best to calm and help herd the civilians.
Voight strays a little on his path, pausing next to Will.
“Take care of him.” he orders.
The ginger nods distractedly as Andrea takes over treatment of the ailing board member, grabbing a kit from one of the treatment team and hurrying to his brother.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, stopping a few steps back as Jay tenses.
“Like I just had death Kool-aid poured over my head.” Jay grits out.
“I hear that.” Will said sympathetically, turning to the CDC team. “We need to rinse him down before we can start treatment. Let’s get a decon setup in here.”
A young man nods and hurries off, and Will turns his focus back to his brother. Behind him, he hears Andrea already loading their other victim onto a stretcher, getting ready to transport him. The controlled spray of bacteria on the man’s chest is easier to contain and they will decontaminate his skin and clothing as they begin treatment of his lesion. But his condition is deteriorating and they need to get him to the hospital as soon as possible to have any hope of saving him.
It takes less than a minute for the decontamination shower to be set up in the middle of the room, the conference table shoved carelessly out of the way to make room for it. With the exception of Will, everyone is wearing full hazmat suits and Will dons one as he talks to his brother.
“We’re going to move you about twenty feet over to a decontamination shower.” he explains, zipping the suit up to his neck and accepting a hood.
“I can’t see.” Jay mutters, “Stuff is still dripping over my eyes.”
“Just let me guide you.” Will said, reaching toward his brother.
“Don’t touch me.” Jay snaps, stepping back.
“Alright, alright.” Will said, taking a step back, “Just walk where I tell you to, okay?”
Jay nods, and Will takes a breath.
“Okay, I need you to turn toward the sound of my voice, okay? I’ll keep talking, you keep turning until I tell you to stop.”
Jay nods again and Will starts side stepping to put the shower directly behind himself.
“Turn. Turn. Turn.” he intones until a tap on his shoulder lets him know that he’s lined up. He waits until Jay is directly facing him.
“Okay.” he says, smiling as Jay stops. “Now come forward. This is just like that stupid game we used to play as kids, huh?”
Jay starts moving toward him, a slight smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth.
A hand takes Will’s arm, and helps him guide around the shower as he walks backward, leading his effectively blind brother.
“Alright,” he says as Jay approaches it, “There’s a bit of a step, right now, alright, you’re over the lip. Two more steps and you’re in the middle of the shower, and stop.”
Jay comes to a halt and Will smiles.
“Alright, we’re going to get that crap off of you now. First up is just water, okay? Can you lift your arms up to your sides?”
Jay nods again, lifting his arms and Will signals to a tech to start the flow. He can already see darkening red starting to spread around the laceration on his brother’s forearm. They need to hurry.
They proceed through an antibacterial soap and two types of disinfectants, all respect for dignity going out the window as his brother is requested to strip after the first rinse. Once the final water cycle has run through, the nozzles turning off, Will passes in a towel for his brother and within minutes he is dressed in loose blue scrubs and taking a seat on a stretcher as Will stands next to him, starting an IV in his right arm.
A CDC tech is examining the cut on his left arm. The bacteria has already taken hold, the skin around the injury red and puffy, and bubbling and yellowing flesh visible inside the wound.
Another tech is examining his head, looking for any broken skin but thankfully not finding anything.
“I’m injecting the first dose of the antibiotic in the line right now.” Will promised his brother as he lines up the needle, pushing the fluid into his brother’s system. “It kicked this bacteria’s butt in our trials.”
“In a petri dish.” Jay says, staring at his arm.
“Welcome to the clinical trials.” Will said, trying to keep his tone light.
When Jay doesn’t respond to his joke, he puts a hand on his shoulder.
“Hey. This is going to work. You’re going to be fine.”
Jay finally meets his brother’s gaze, visibly forcing a smile onto his face.
“Hey.” he says, “You think they’ll name this thing after me now?”
“Between the two of us?” Will says, “If we argue for Halstead, I think it’s a done deal.”
Jay nods, leaning back against the stretcher as someone unlocks the brakes and starts wheeling him out of the room.
“Cool.”

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twelve hours later

The antibiotic is working.

That’s what Will has to keep reminding himself.

The necrosis, while it looks horrific, has been contained to Jay’s left forearm. It’s the other symptomology of the bacteria that worries Will.

Jay is running a temperature of 104.1 and nothing that his doctors have tried has even made a dent. And with a fever that high, the accompanying stiffness, pain, lethargy, and respiratory difficulty are disheartening but not unexpected.

Will had fought an uphill battle to even be allowed to sit with his brother. His concussion had been wielded almost like a weapon. He needed to rest, he had an open wound, and on and on.

Andrea had finally stepped in, stating that as long as he followed appropriate contact precautions there would be no higher risk of exposure. And then she’d commented that he wouldn’t exactly be exerting himself sitting next to his mostly sleeping brother and that, if complications were to occur, it was as good a place as any.

The attending managing the quarantine ward hadn’t approved but he’d given in, allowing Will to don PPE and step into the room, settling into the uncomfortable plastic chair next to the bed.

He’d love to have one of the recliners, knowing from personal experience that unlike what you’d usually expect from hospital furniture they are quite comfortable. But he’s also aware that they would be all but impossible to properly decontaminate.

So he’d accepted the stupid plastic chair and settled in to wait.

But not much as changed in the time that he’s been here. For the most part he’s just watching his brother sleep, listening to slow, labored breaths and watching the vitals monitors for any signs of improvement.

Which is still better than when Jay is awake. At the rare times that his eyes are open he’s breathing only gets worse and he blinks back at Will with wide, confused eyes. He doesn’t speak much but when he does his words are slurred and what little Will can make out doesn’t make much sense.

He’s frustrated, annoyed that the antibiotic isn’t doing a better job, isn’t killing the bacteria that’s killing his brother faster. Doctor Halstead, the man of science who is deeply buried behind Will Halstead, big brother extraordinaire, tries to remind him that it is working, that the fact that the lesion isn’t spreading is an incredibly promising sign.

But Will isn’t really listening to logic at the moment. At least not optimistic logic. He’s stuck with the pessimistic points.

This bacteria moves fast. Terrifyingly fast. And with Jay it hadn’t had to find it’s way to a mucous membrane or creep in through a tiny breech in the skin.

In the effort to save lives, Jay had opened the front door and welcomed it directly into his bloodstream.

And he’s suffering for it. His body is under siege and even with the reinforcement from the antibiotic his defenses are falling.

And all Will can do is sit here and hold his hand, the barrier of a heavy nitrile glove eroding anything personal about the gesture.

“Hang in there, little brother.” he begs. “The antibiotic can kill this but it needs time. You need to keep fighting.”

There’s no response and he sighs, leaning back against the chair.

six hours later

The look on April’s face when she enters the room tells him immediately that something is very, very wrong.

He glances anxiously at the monitors but Jay’s vitals, while not good, haven’t changed much over the last couple of hours.

“He’s hanging in there.” she tells him.

“But you brought bad news.” he says.

“The executive from BRT didn’t make it.” she says, ripping off the bandaid. “He coded fifteen minutes ago and we couldn’t get him back.”

It’s like a punch in the stomach. Will tries to suck in another breath but his lungs aren’t responding, his entire chest feels like it’s locked up, ice filtering it’s way down from his heart.

Dead.

The other man is dead.

He can’t – he needs – Jay had been exposed less than ten minutes after the executive. If it’s been fifteen minutes since the other man had coded -

He looks up at the monitors again, almost expecting to see the line go flat, to hear an alarm.

And he still can’t seem to pull in any air.

“Will.” April says, hand resting gently on his shoulder. “He’s doing okay. I told you, he’s hanging in there.”

“But he… this thing moves so fast. I was so stupid to think that just because I found something that could kill it meant that it would be able to do so before irreversible damage was done. I thought… I thought I’d saved the day. But I haven’t saved anyone. Even with an antibiotic it’s killed everyone it’s touched.”

“The girl from the apartment complex is responding.” April tells him. “Her fever is dropping, vitals are improving. And it had a lot more time to spread before we got the antibiotic going.”

“She still wasn’t this sick.” Will says. “It didn’t move as fast, didn’t spread as quickly.”

“Will-”

“Please stop pretending that my brother isn’t dying.” he snaps. “He’s barely breathing on his own, mentally altered… it’s not working. I was too slow.”

She doesn’t say anything else, just rubs his shoulder gently and then leaves the room.

“I’m sorry Jay.” he breathes, leaning over the edge of the bed. “I should have tried harder, administered the first dose by injection before we decontaminated or something.”

Jay’s hand tightens around his and he squeezes back.

“I’m here.” he whispers. “I’m here, buddy. You’re not alone.”

They have to intubate an hour later.

Jay’s vitals are dropping steadily. Will tries not to look at the monitors but its like a train wreck that he can’t stop watching.

Is this what it was like for Jay? Sitting and watching while their mother slipped away from him, unable to do anything to stop it.

As his heart rate drops below 40, the door opens and he looks up the see the attending, Dr. Roberts, entering the room.

“I wish I had good news for you.” the man tells him.

Will just nods, entire body feeling heavy.

“I know you… Anyone who wants to say goodbye, they should probably some soon. We can’t… they can’t come in the room because of quarantine conditions but… I wouldn’t wait. I don’t think he’ll make it through the night. I’m sorry Will.”

He doesn’t respond and after a moment Dr. Roberts leaves again.

He’s not proud of it but he texts Voight instead of calling.

He can’t imagine putting to words where they’re at right now.

He can’t really imagine speaking at all right now.

He’s barely even aware of the members of Intelligence as they gather in the hallway. He should probably go out there, try to talk to them.

But he doesn’t have energy for the effort required to decontaminate to leave the quarantine room. Doesn’t know if he can force himself to let go of Jay’s hand.

He’s barely slept since he’s been here. Barely slept since they’d realized a new, dangerous strain of necrotizing fasciitis was on the loose in Chicago. But he doesn’t sleep for a minute the entire night, hardly even blinks.

He refuses to let his brother slip away while he’s asleep. Refuses to let his brother die alone, something that Jay had confided once scares him more than just about anything.

So he locks his eyelids open, keeping his gaze fixed on his brother’s face. He tries to focus on his almost peaceful forehead and eyes instead of the tube protruding from his mouth but it’s hard.

Time has become meaningless, his entire world reduced to the rhythmic sounds of the machines and as such it’s almost ten by the time he realizes that it’s morning.

That against all odds, his brother’s heart is still beating.

“You stubborn jackass.” he mutters.

Is this a good sign, or is Jay just delaying the inevitable? He wants to believe, wants to nurture the tiniest seed of hope that looking at the clock had given him.

“If you’re going to kick this.” he says, only somewhat joking. “If you could get to it that would be great.”

Then he swallows hard.

“And if it’s too much, it’s okay.” he continues. “You can let go. I’ll be okay.”

He closes his eyes, clutching his brother’s hand in a death grip.

“I love you.” he whispers. “I love you so much, little brother. And if you don’t make it I’m going to miss you like crazy. But I don’t want you laying here suffering for me either."

Jay’s heart rate dips from 34 to 33 and he nods, tears streaming freely down his face.

“It’s okay, Jay.” he repeats.

By noon, Jay’s heart rate has climbed to 46.

“I don’t understand it either.” Dr. Roberts says when he comes in to study the vitals. “That’s one stubborn brother you’ve got.”

“He’s had to be.” Will says, looking down fondly.

“I know it’s not a great time but you really need some sleep.”

“I need to be here for him.” Will says, shaking his head. “I don’t want him to be alone.”

Dr. Roberts sounds like he wants to argue the point further but he doesn’t, typing a quick note in the chart.

“It’s early to say and I don’t want to get your hopes up but this could be him responding to the antibiotics.” he suggests. “The start of him stabilizing.”

Will doesn’t respond. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up either.

But maybe. Just maybe.

Jay’s vitals keep climbing. And so do his hopes.

By dinner time he’s stable and Dr. Roberts is even talking about taking him off the ventilator.

Will actually calls Voight this time, verbally conveying the good news. The man thanks him, tone unreadable, and promises to pass the news on to the rest of the team.

His respiration dips slightly an hour later and the extubation is postponed until morning.

But just as Will’s phone, held in his hand with the intention of texting Voight to let him know how it goes, announces sunrise they are able to remove the tube.

When pulse oxygenation remains steady, Will can’t resist hitting the call button, stepping forward to hold the phone near his brother’s head.

“I just thought you might like to hear him breathing for himself.” he says quietly.

“He’s really going to be okay?” Voight asks and Will elects not to mention his voice cracking as he confirms it.

“Yeah. He is. I’m going to have to give him a stern talking to about cutting it this close but, yeah.”

Voight chuckles and thanks him for the call.

Nothing compares to the moment when Jay finally wakes up.

Will is sleeping. His second nap since Jay’s vitals had leveled out and he’d stopped being terrified that his brother might die at any moment.

He’s suddenly awake, yawning as he tries to figure out what had woken him.

And then he notices the blue-green eyes staring at him in confusion.

“Will?” Jay croaks, voice rough from the combination of the breathing tube and the almost two days of disuse.

“Hey.” he gasps out, leaning forward. “Welcome back.”

“Did I – what – Selden?” Jay says, face shifting between confusion, frustration and finally fear.

“You were infected.” Will tells him. “But the antibiotic worked and you fought like hell to give it enough time to do it’s thing. You’re going to be fine.”

Jay clearly has more questions but he nods, tired enough to take his brother’s word for it.

“When can I go home?” he asks and Will actually laughs.

“Got a couple more steps to get through before they make that determination.” he tells him.

“How’s your head?” Jay asks.

“Practically good as new.” Will says, waving off the concern. “Just need to get you some negative cultures so they can get me a recliner instead of this glorified deck chair.”

“Could always go sleep somewhere else.” Jay says tiredly.

“And leave you here by yourself?” Will scoffs. “Not a chance.”

Jay nods, a small smile quirking the corner of his mouth. It’s broken as he yawns wildly.

“Get some sleep.” Will soothes, reaching up to card his fingers through his brother’s hair. “I meant it. I’m not going anywhere.”

Jay’s eyes drift closed.

“Love you too.” he whispers.

Jay is asleep when April shows Hank into his room. The young man is finally no longer quarantined, the last cultures coming back negative for any surviving bacteria in his system. With surgery out of the way just a few hours prior to remove the dead flesh from his wound so that it can heal properly, skin grafts placed over the gaping chasm left behind, he is finally on the mend.

Will Halstead is asleep in the chair next to his brother’s bed, officially declared fully healed from his own head injury courtesy of David Selden.

Voight stops next to the door, content to let both men sleep. The antibiotic had saved Jay’s life, a relief after it had proven too little too late for the executive from BRT, but it had been a long, uphill struggle with his young detective’s condition deteriorating to the point where the doctors had feared he may not survive the night.

But Jay had stubbornly clung to life, finally turning the corner the afternoon after the team had gathered in the hallway outside his quarantine room to say their goodbyes through a double plated window.

Will had been the only allowed in the room other than the assigned quarantine staff and had refused to leave his brother’s side throughout the entire ordeal, sitting with Jay’s hand tightly clasped between both of his own through the long hours that the man had lain close to death.

Even now, with his brother officially declared out of the woods, Will has refused to be drug from the room. When asked how to proceed, Sharon Goodwin had ordered a recliner be moved into the room so the man could get some proper sleep and had subtly suggested that he consider making use of the shower in the ensuite bathroom before disappearing to her office.

Jay’s eyes flicker open, head rolling to look over at his sleeping brother with the ghost of a smile spreading across his tired, drawn face. Then they lock on his boss, still lingering in the doorway.

“Hey Sarge.” he says, voice just above that of a whisper.

“I came to drop off some things for your brother.” Voight says, lifting the bag that he held. “You doing okay?”

“I’m getting there.” Jay says, “Better than most people Selden got with this thing.”

Voight nods, taking a few steps forward to set the bag down next to Will’s chair.

“I’ll swing by again tomorrow. If either of you need anything else, have your brother text me.”

Jay nods and Voight heads for the door. As he reaches it, he turns back.

“Halstead?”

Jay looks up, eyes full of questions.

“I’m glad you’re okay, kid, get some sleep.”

Chapter Text

Jay lets himself into his apartment, flipping through the case file that Antonio had managed to get him. He’s pretty sure that it doesn’t make up for the black eye the man had immediately given him but it’s more support than he’d received from anyone else on the team.

He’s only been in the unit for a few months but surely they know by now that strangling people in parks isn’t how he works.

But Voight had never wanted him in his unit so maybe he shouldn’t be surprised.

He sinks into the couch, flipping open the file. As he looks through the papers there isn’t a lot in there besides the fact that he’d been documented following Lonnie earlier that evening.

He knows the case is in it’s infancy but this is ridiculous.

Dropping the papers on the coffee table, he leans back, throwing an arm across his eyes.

What is he going to do?

“Hey you boys remember that cop that punched me that night at the bar?”

“The one being a pain in the ass?” Jarrod asks.

“Yeah, him.” Phil says. “Pretty sure he murdered my kid.”

“Sounds like something a fucking pig like that would do.” Ike says, taking a drink. “You gonna turn him in?”

“Nah, I got a better plan.” Phil says, shaking his head.

Kyle’s eyebrows raise but he leans forward, eyes brightening. Ike looks apprehensive but he doesn’t leave so Phil continues.

“Damn cops didn’t handle him before he killed my boy, why would they handle him now. I say we take care of that bastard ourselves. Who wants in?”

“To beat the shit outta a cop?” Kyle says. “As if I need a reason.”

“I’m in.” Jarrod agrees.

“I don’t know Phil.” Ike says, looking around. “Wouldn’t it be better to tell the other cops what he did?”

“I complained about his harassment for seven years.” Phil growls. “Had to fight for that restraining order and then they didn’t do shit when he violated it. I’m done trusting them to do their jobs.”

The fact that the man had been right, that everything he’d said about Lonnie had been true, doesn’t change anything. If his words hadn’t forced Phil to look deeper, hadn’t led him to discover …

“I want him dead.” he growls, pushing down his own guilt. “And I want him dead now.”

“Then let’s get it done.” Jarrod says, his hand resting on Phil’s shoulder.

“Yeah.” Kyle agrees. “Let’s kick some pig ass!”

Phil knocks on the door.

It hadn’t been that hard to convince the court clerk to give him the address of the man he had a restraining order against.

Kyle and Jarrod are at Beaubien Woods getting everything set up for them and scouting out current foot traffic.

The door opens and he can’t help but feel a little smug at the shocked, but also maybe disappointed, look on the man behind it’s face.

“What the hell do you want?” Detective Halstead growls. “I didn’t kill your fucking son.”

“I know that.” Phil says. “I… I need your help.”

“With what?” the man says suspiciously.

“You were right. About Lonnie. And I think… I found something in his room. I think he grabbed another kid and I…"

“Tell the police.” Halstead growls. “They may not care with your son being dead already but maybe they can get the kid’s parents some closure.”

“I think the kid might still be alive.” Phil blurts out. “And the police won’t listen… please I need you to help me find him before he dies.”

The look that flashes across Halstead’s face and Phil knows he has him.

He leans back inside to grab his phone and keys.

“Do you have any idea where to look?” he demands.

“There’s some papers in my truck.” Phil says, leading the way down the stairs. “But I admit that I’m hoping you can make some sense of it.”

Halstead nods.

It doesn’t take long for him to come to the conclusion that they’d created the maps and other documents intending him to.

Phil accepts the directions, programming it into his gps and taking the opportunity to text Ike to let the others know they’re on the way.

The area is empty as he pulls in, turning off his truck.

“If these are right, he’s around here somewhere.” Halstead says, jumping down.

Phil stands back as he moves toward the brush.

As Halstead reaches the trees, leaning forward to check the high grass, Kyle jumps out, slamming a baton into the man’s gut.

Halstead doubles over, ending up on his knees and Kyle takes the opportunity to slam the baton down on his back.

As he steps back, the weapon still held aloft as Jarrod and Ike surface from the bushes.

Halstead pushes up to his knees, elbow braced against his thighs.

“What the hell is this?” he demands.

“You really think I would come to you for help?” Phil asks. “You murdered my son.”

“I didn’t kill your scumbag pedophile son!” Halstead shouts back.

“You’re going to pay for what you did.” Jarrod says. “Just because you’re a cop and your cop buddies cover for you doesn’t mean you can do whatever.”

Halstead opens his mouth again but Ike cuts him off with a foot to the stomach sending him flying down onto his back.

It sets Kyle and Jarrod off as well and Phil doesn’t stop them, standing back to watch as they let loose with a barrage of kicks and swings of the baton.

Ike finds a tree limb somewhere and swings it hard down onto their victim’s legs. It snaps in half on impact.

He brings it above his head before driving it down. It drives through the skin of Halstead’s lower abdomen.

His scream reverberates through the air as he tries to roll away.

Another blow with the baton from Kyle stops him and he curls back on himself, arms covering his head.

Phil doesn’t wait much longer before he pulls them back.

“Nobody is going to find you out here.” he hisses, leaning over the young man. “You’re going to die. Just like my boy did.”

Then he reaches up, Kyle immediately understanding and handing him the baton.

With one final blow to the head, Halstead falls still and he steps back.

“Let’s go.” he tells the others.

“I thought you wanted him dead.” Kyle protests. “What if he makes it down to the road?”

“He’s not going anywhere.” Phil informs them. “You stabbed him.”

Kyle slams the baton down on the man’s legs again.

“And have definitely broken his legs.” Phil adds drily.

“Let’s just tie him to a damn tree and get out of here.” Ike says, shaking his head. “You brought rope like we suggested, right?”

“Yeah.” Phil says.

“Go get it.” Jarrod orders, grabbing one of Halstead’s arms. “Kyle, get his other arm.”

Phil shakes his head and sighs but heads back to the truck. When he comes back, they’ve propped Halstead up against a tree.

A wide blood trail spreads along the ground.

Ike takes the rope, pulling Jay’s arms around the tree and looping the rope around them.

Once he ties them off, the four of them get back into the truck.

Voight sits at his desk working his way through paperwork. The commander has pulled them off casework for the day while he addresses issues with one of his Detectives being accused of murder.

As if his job isn’t hard enough without a rogue detective who can’t follow directions.

And who isn’t answering phone calls from the detectives investigating the murder.

He’d sent Adam and Antonio over to his apartment but he hadn’t been there either.

Running away doesn’t sound like Halstead’s style but he wouldn’t have expected him to murder someone either.

He looks up as Al taps at his door. He’d left to run an errand but it’s good to know that he’s back, even if all the team is doing today is catching up on paperwork.

“So I just learned something interesting.” Al says and the tone of his voice tells Voight he’d better pay attention.

“What’s that?” he asks, pushing away his paperwork and leaning back.

“Halstead had a visitor. Maybe an hour before Ruzek and Dawson went over.”

Oh. So this is about Halstead.

“He got himself into this mess, he can get himself out.” he says, reaching for his paperwork again. “And that includes actually speaking to detectives.”

“Phil Rodiger was at his apartment building.” Al says.

That gets his attention.

“Rodiger’s dad went to see him?” he asks.

“And Jay went somewhere with him.” Al says, handing over a still from a surveillance camera.

“Why in the hell would he do that?” Voight asks.

“Good question.” Al says. “Sounds like you should find your damn son and ask him yourself.”

“Justin isn’t even in the state.” Voight says, eyebrows lifting.

“Not who I meant.” Al says, shaking his head. “The kid deserves your support as much as anyone else on this team.”

And then he’s gone, leaving Voight wondering if maybe he did make a mistake this time.

Jay isn’t answering his phone.

The ping comes up somewhere in Blue Island and he sends Adam and Antonio to check it out.

“If the son of a bitch is pouting because he got yelled at.” Voight grumbles as the two jog down the stairs.

“Why are you so determined to make this about him screwing up?” Al says, fixing him with a steely look.

“I told him to stay away from the bastard.” Voight growls. “He didn’t listen.”

“He did something you’ve done a million times and you’re mad because he didn’t come to you.” Al corrects.

“He murdered -” Voight starts.

“He didn’t kill that pedophile and you know it.” Al corrects calmly.

“Evidence suggests that he did.” Voight says. “Phil Rodiger sure thinks so.”

“And he took him out to dinner to discuss it?” Al retorts.

“When Antonio reports back we can figure out what to do about Phil Rodiger.” Voight says, turning to head back to his office.

“Smart.” Al says. “That way Jay can be dead before you even start looking for him.”

Voight freezes.

“Al…”

“Find him.” Al says. “Not later. Now.”

Everything hurts.

His head is pounding, legs throbbing, and he’s pretty sure that someone has actually lit his stomach on fire.

Which is a dick move if you ask him.

He’d tried opening his eyes but the world had spun so fast that he’d given up on that and closed them again.

He needs to figure it out though because his hands are bound somewhere behind him so he’s pretty sure that he’s in some kind of deep shit.

But his team will be looking for him. He just needs to hang on until they get here.

But he’s not one to sit around and wait to be rescued.

Twisting his wrists against the ropes binding them sends bolts of pain through his torso.

Broken ribs.

At least two, maybe more.

He rests his head back against whatever he’s tied to, a post of some kind, and risks opening his eyes again. The world is still spinning but it’s slower. He thinks.

He’s surrounded by trees, probably tied to one too, so he must be outside somewhere. And off the beaten path which means it will be longer before he’s found.

How did he get here?

He’d been looking for someone. Rescuing someone? There had been a kid.

He shifts against the tree and another wave of pain moves through his stomach.

An image, a memory he thinks, of a tree branch being rammed through his stomach crosses his mind.

The kid had been a lie.

A story made up by Phil Rodiger to get him here.

Where he’d been jumped. Beaten severely, stabbed, and then tied to a tree and left here to die.

And if the amount of blood soaking into his shirt is anything to go by, he’s a lot further into that process than he’d like to be.

But his team will be coming. Surely they’ve realized something is wrong.

His suspension. Antonio attacking him in the parking lot. Nobody calling or checking in on him.

Maybe they haven’t.

But homicide will want to talk to him. Will reach out to Voight when he doesn’t return their calls.

And they’ll find an empty apartment, all indications being that he’d left of his own free will.

Because like a dumbass, he had.

Will they suspect that he’d run?

Surely his team would never believe that. Would realize that he’s in trouble.

Except they’d believed that he would take justice into his own hands and murder someone.

He’s on his own.

He struggles against the ropes securing him and knocks his head against the tree in the process.

It’s like a bomb going off in his head and he doesn’t even have a chance to fight as it pulls him back under.

They find Phil Rodiger at a bar that Voight vaguely recognizes from one of the complaints the man had filed against Jay.

He’s with three other men, and all of them are too cheerful for a man who’s son has just been murdered and his friends.

Phil’s face twists as they walk up.

“Oh good. More cops to harass me. My son is dead, aren’t you bastards satisfied yet?”

Voight opens his mouth to answer the complaint but Al cuts him off.

“You cut yourself?” he asks and Voight turns, seeing him looking at one of the other men.

“Huh?” the guy asks.

“Blood on your sleeve.” Al explains. “Looks like it hurt.”

Any question that the blood is not from an innocent accident is gone the moment the man pales.

Shit.

Al was right.

They need to find Jay.

Now.

“Where is he?” he asks Phil.

“Who?” the man asks, anxiously glancing between the two of them.

“We know you went to his apartment.” Voight growls. “Where. is. he?”

“He murdered my son.” Phil says. “And he’ll be long dead by the time you find him.”

“Stand up.” he orders, hearing Al radio for backup behind him.

He’d like to see one of these assholes try.

It doesn’t take as long to remember what’s happening when he surfaces again.

He’s miles from civilization, beaten to a pulp, bleeding to death, and tied to a damn tree.

He has no way to contact anyone, can’t get free to try to get help and probably wouldn’t make it very far if he did get loose.

And his team probably isn’t even looking for him.

He’s screwed.

At least Lonnie Rodiger is dead. He’ll never get a chance to hurt another kid like he hurt Ben.

Though his dad is still around. His dad who had no problem luring a cop into an ambush and then leaving him for dead.

And if he’s not mistaken, probably murdered his own son.

Not that Jay has any proof of that besides his own gut.

Regardless, it’s unlikely that the man will hurt anyone else so maybe it’s okay if Jay gives up. If closes his eyes and lets death claim him.

His own team thinks he’s a murderer, he hasn’t spoken to his dad in years, and Will is so busy with parties and boob jobs that it will be months before he even considers that he hasn’t spoken to his little brother.

So honestly, what is he even fighting for?

He’s no good to this city. Couldn’t protect Ben, couldn’t stop Lonnie even knowing that he was getting ready to go after another kid.

Lonnie’s own father had done a better job than he had, even after years of denial.

He’s freezing. His entire body shaking from a chill that has nothing to do with the weather.

He looks down, seeing that the blood is starting to pool on the ground underneath him.

He doesn’t have much longer anyway. A few hours at best and then Jay Halstead will no longer be anyone’s problem.

All four men are in holding.

Antonio and Adam had found Jay’s phone lying on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, screen shattered.

Something is very, very wrong.

Phil is even talking, gloating about how he’d lured Jay from his apartment on the pretense of finding and rescuing some kid.

Gleefully recounting how he’d gotten him somewhere isolated and then beaten him until he’d finally stopped moving.

Describing in detail the scream that he’d ripped from Jay when he’d stabbed him in the stomach.

Commenting that if Jay isn’t already dead then it’s only a matter of time.

In fact, just about the only thing he won’t tell them is where Jay is. And he’s denying that any of the other three men had been involved.

Despite the blood on Ike Lehrmore’s sleeve that strongly suggests otherwise.

“If he dies,” he snarls, leaning forward. “You’ll wish you’d never lived.”

“I already do.” Phil says, laughing. “My son is dead. Killed by a cop who couldn’t accept that he’d gotten it wrong.”

“He wasn’t wrong.” Voight says. “You and I both know that. And I think we both know that Halstead didn’t kill your son either.”

Phil’s eyes go hard and Voight nods to himself, the reaction enough to confirm his theory.

“Do your friends know that you murdered your own son?” he presses. “I bet they wouldn’t have helped you if they did.”

“They didn’t help me.” Phil says.

“Maybe I should go tell them and see what they have to -”

“Hank.”

He looks up to see Al at the door. Shooting a final glare at Phil, he stands up and leaves the interrogation room.

“What?”

“Found some papers in his truck.” Al fills in. “I think we have a location.”

“Let’s go.”

He needs to stop sleeping sitting up.

It doesn’t stop the nightmares, just means that he isn’t as well rested in the morning.

And why the hell is his pillow so hard? He just replaced it not that long ago.

He tries to fluff it to get it a little softer but his hands won’t move.

Why won’t they move?

He rolls his head, lifting it away from the pillow.

Why is it so cold?

Why does he feel like shit?

Something’s happened. He’s in trouble.

He needs to get out of here. Needs to call someone.

But he can’t move. Can barely breathe.

He’s surrounded by loud noise; shouting, doors slamming.

He should probably do something about that.

He sinks back into the darkness.

Voight takes the lead as the team floods into the clearing. Jay is slumped limply against a tree, arms pulled tight around it’s trunk.

“Antonio, Adam find me a landing zone and get Life Flight out here, now!” he orders. “Al, grab the kit from the car. Kevin, blankets.”

The team scatters as he and Erin crash to their knees next to Jay.

“Cut his hands loose.” he orders her as he cups the kid’s face. “Halstead? Jay?”

He moans, head rolling feebly but not lifting from his chest.

He’s beat all to hell but Hank’s eyes are immediately drawn to the blood soaking into his shirt over his abdomen. He presses his hands into it, eliciting another groan.

“Hang in there kid.” he begs. “We’re here now. Help is coming.”

As Erin cuts the ropes his arms swing down and his entire body slumps forward into Voight. He adjusts his attempt at pressure and then uses his free arm to brace him.

Kevin reaches them with the blankets from the trunk and he directs him to wrap them around Jay’s shoulders. The kid is trembling and Hank doesn’t know how much is from shock and how much is from the cold.

“Gimme the combat gauze.” he orders as Al joins them. “Erin, Kevin help me lie him down.”

The moment Jay is horizontal the gauze is in his hands and he starts packing it into the wound.

Jay whimpers but his eyes stay closed.

“I know kid.” Voight soothes. “I know.”

It takes fifteen minutes too long for the flight medics to reach them and the others back out to allow them access but Voight stays close.

“Stab wound to the abdomen, lost a lot of blood.” he says. “Pulse is weak and thready. Bruised and battered pretty much everywhere and I’m pretty sure both legs are broken.”

They nod their understanding, quick to get an IV going and then getting him strapped to a backboard which is transferred into the stokes basket.

Kevin helps lift the stokes so that the other paramedic can continue treatment.

Voight walks alongside as the start racing back toward where they’d landed the helicopter.

“Just hang on, Jay.” Voight begs. “You’re going to be okay.”

Too soon and yet not soon enough, they are loading Jay into the helicopter and Voight is being pushed back.

And then they’re in the air.

He goes back to the station.

He can’t handle pacing the waiting room right now, hoping and praying for the news that Halstead is going to pull through.

He’d screwed up, tossing the kid out in the cold on this one, and the team (save Al, thank God for Al) had followed his lead.

It had nearly been a fatal mistake. Still might be.

He doesn’t know if he can ever make it up to the young detective but closing the case, proving that Halstead hadn’t killed Lonnie Rodiger, might be a start.

Phil and his friends are still in holding and he asks Trudy to have a patrol officer bring him to interrogation. Then he heads to the bullpen to go back over the paperwork, searching out his angle.

Antonio is sitting at his desk, flipping through a stack of paperwork.

“Why aren’t you at the hospital?” he grumbles.

“I should have had his back.” Antonio says, eyes locked on his paperwork. “I accused him of killing the bastard. Even through a couple punches. Not that you could see them through the black and blue covering his face.”

“We all dropped the ball here.” Voight says, shaking his head. “Starting with me. I set the tone and everyone followed my lead.”

“Well now I have to make damn sure he doesn’t have to worry about IA and a homicide investigation when he gets out of surgery.” Antonio says.

“Patrol officers are putting the actual killer in interrogation.” Voight says. “His reaction when I brought it up confirms it, just need to get a confession.”

Antonio’s eyes widen.

“I think I found what you need.” he says, holding up a photo. “I swung by Jay’s place on my way here. He’s been tailing Lonnie, taken plenty of photos. This was taken the night Lonnie was murdered.”

“Entering his own home.” Voight says, not seeing the point.

“According to his father’s statement, Lonnie never came home that night.” Antonio explains. “But we’ve got proof right here that he did.”

It doesn’t take long for Phil to cave once he’s presented with the evidence.

Once confronted with their friend’s dishonesty, the other three men admitted to their role in the assault on Halstead.

Which leaves Voight with no excuse to avoid the hospital.

Al has been texting updates but there hasn’t been much. Halstead is still alive, still in surgery.

“Have we notified his next of kin?” Voight asks.

“His emergency contact is you.” Al replies simply.

And if that isn’t a kick in the pants.

Halstead doesn’t have anyone other than the team. And the team had walked away and left him to drown.

“I’ll see if there’s any family I need to call.” he says.

Jay had signed the no beneficiaries form upon graduating from the academy. He finds information for a father who still lives locally and a brother in New York.

Which raises the question. Would Jay want them to be called?

And he doesn’t know the answer.

Jay makes it through surgery. His dad comes down, even sits by his son’s bedside in the ICU for a few hours.

But as soon as Jay starts showing signs of coming around the man leaves and Voight can’t help but watch him walk away, wondering what the story there is.

Because the man clearly loves his son no matter how much distance exists between them.

But Voight knows well the tension that can exist between father and son. And even more acutely how difficult it can be to begin the process of making things right.

Gets another taste of it when the single blue-green eye that isn't swollen shut finally flickers open and Halstead is staring at him in confusion.

Questions war with pain in those eyes. Mixed into the darkening bruises and swelling, it's enough to break his heart.

“Hey.” he says gently. “How are you feeling?”

Jay tilts his head.

“I’m … fine.” he says slowly. “What happened?”

“Phil Rodiger -” Voight starts.

“No, I remember that.” Jay says, shaking his head. “How did I get here? You finally got rid of me. I was alone, trapped and bleeding out. How am I not dead?”

Voight freezes.

He’d known that he’d screwed up. That he’d nearly cost the kid his life.

He hadn’t considered the devastation that his actions might have caused.

“Because Al is a better man than I am.” he admits finally.

Jay’s eyes narrow, the confusion only deepening.

“You weren’t answering homicide’s calls so I sent Adam and Antonio over to check in. But you weren’t there and I just gave up. But Al kept poking. Found footage of Phil Rodiger at your apartment and wouldn’t let up until I figured out for myself that something wasn’t right.” Voight explains.

Jay nods slowly, eyes drifting as he processes the information.

“Al saved your life.” Voight says. “And I owe him one. Because I screwed up and almost lost a valuable member of my team because of it.”

There.

He said it.

He’d had his doubts at first but Jay Halstead is good police.

He’s lucky to have him on his team.

Shock replaces confusion in Jay’s eyes and Voight sighs.

“I know I’m a hard guy to work for.” he says. “And I was an asshole yesterday. I shouldn’t have said what I did and I should have sent someone home with you so you weren’t alone while things were sorted out.”

Jay still doesn’t respond and Voight sighs.

“Phil Rodiger confessed to murdering his son.” he tells him. “You’re clear on the murder investigation. I’ll hold onto your service weapon until you’re released from the hospital but this is yours.”

He rolls his hand over, revealing the golden shield in his palm.

Jay stares at it for an uncomfortably long time before he reaches out and takes it, running his thumb over it.

“I know I’m not your favorite person at the moment.” Voight says. “And Antonio is on his way so you don’t have to deal with me much longer. But I’m going to stay until he can get here. And you’re going to be hard pressed to get the team to give you any space. Because I’m not the only one who feels a little guilty about leaving you to face this on your own.”

Jay shakes his head minutely and Voight nods.

It’s going to take more than one bedside conversation to repair the damage that they’ve caused. The damage that he’s caused.

But thanks to Al, they’ve got the time to work on it.

Chapter Text

Jay drops back giving Erin space as she talks to Yates and watching Mouse on the phone with her carrier, trying to get a location.

Cops are swarming everywhere trying to figure out where Yates is watching from.

Jay scowls, looking around.

Yates must be watching from somewhere elevated and while the man doesn’t have any marksmanship training, the basic common sense of it might have guided his decision making.

He drifts over toward the corner of the building, crouching down to assess angles.

He hears movement behind him but as he turns to check his own blind spot, Erin raises her voice, drawing his attention back toward the patrol cars.

Something stabs hard into the side of his neck and he cries out, hand coming up to feel the syringe sticking out.

An arm slings around his shoulders, sinking into place across the front of his neck and yanking him backwards.

He scrambles to pull away, to dislodge the arm, to grab the corner of the building to keep himself from being pulled around it but his body isn’t responding to his commands.

“Nnnnnnn…” he slurs, blinking to try to clear the fog overtaking the periphery of his vision.

Yates is on the phone with Erin right now but this has to be related. The bastard must have a partner.

He has to find a way to get someone’s attention, can’t let himself be used against Erin by this psycho.

Can’t be the reason that she spirals again.

But his body is shutting down, vocal cords frozen, muscles paralyzed, but his mind is clear.

A paralytic.

Damn it.

Yates signs off before Mouse is able to get a location but when Voight demands an answer as to how Yates is watching her, he grabs her phone.

It doesn’t take long before he’s identified spyware installed on her phone that Yates has been using to track her.

And then she recognizes where Yates was calling from.

“Wait.” she says, holding up her hand. “Guys, I know where he is. He’s in my apartment. This picture’s at my place.”

“Let’s go.” Voight orders. “Halstead, take Erin back inside.”

“I don’t need to be…”

Erin trails off as she realizes that another voice isn’t cutting into her protests and looks around.

“Where’s Jay?” she asks.

“I told everyone to spread out.” Voight says, looking around. “He should be around here somewhere.”

“Hank, something’s wrong.” Erin says. “Yates calling was a distraction.”

“He’s still at your apartment with Nellie.” Voight says. “Antonio, take Adam and Atwater and check out Erin’s apartment. And keep your guard up.”

The detective nods, motioning for the two officers to follow him.

“Al. We need eyes on Halstead. Now.” Voight continues. “Mouse, take Erin back upstairs. Yates is trying to draw her out and I’m not biting.”

Erin growls but deflates.

Jay had been grabbed because attention was focused on her. The best thing she can do for him right now is to keep her head down so the team can focus on finding him.

But when Yates inevitably contacts her, all bets are off.

She is done with this asshole going after the people that she cares about to get her attention.

The world spins as he’s rolled onto a hard metal surface.

He can only see what’s in front of his face and he has zero control of the direction it’s pointed.

And with someone else controlling his body, rolling it, that direction is changing rapidly in a way that’s even more disorienting because of how helpless he feels.

He’s rolled on his back and lays there, staring at the roof of the van through heavy eyelids.

He grits his teeth, trying with everything he’s got to move. His arm, his hand, hell, he’d settle for his fingers right now.

Someone else moves it for him, dragging his arms together in front of them and binding them with a heavy core rope.

The man is older, with graying hair and wrinkled skin but nothing about him seems familiar.

How does Yates know him? And is he doing this willingly or does Yates have something on him?

“W… w..” he groans, trying to force out the words.

“Don’t waste your time, buddy.” the guy says, patting him on the head. “What Greg wants, Greg gets.”

“Ddd.”

“You need to shut up.” the guy tells him. “Nobody cares what you have to groan about.”

Another syringe plunges into the side of his neck and he presses his eyes closed.

No.

No more drugs. Please.

Mouse follows her up the stairs and watches for a moment as she sinks down at her desk, head dropping into her hands before he retreats to the small desk he sometimes uses upstairs.

He quickly pulls up his computer and starts searching the external security cameras at the precinct.

“Damn it.” he curses after only a few moments.

“What?” Erin asks, jumping up from her desk.

“We’ve got the whole thing on video. Guy gets him at the corner and slams a syringe into his neck.” Mouse says, playing the footage back.

Erin winces, watching as Jay’s eyes slide to half mast and his entire body goes limp.

“He never even had a chance to fight back.” she says, shaking her head.

“Yates was on a live video call with you when this happened.” Mouse says. “He’s not working alone.”

“He always works alone.” she says, shaking her head. “Why is he teaming up with people all the sudden? First Rudnick to break out of prison and now someone else? What is this?”

“I don’t know.” Mouse says. “He’s running? Desperate? Nellie Cerr isn’t exactly his usual type either.”

“We need to figure this out.” Erin says. “He’s… he’s going to hurt Jay but he’s got something else in mind too.”

“So we’ll figure it out.” Mouse says. “Figure out what’s special about Nellie Cerr and see if we can’t figure out what Yate is trying to do. See if it leads us to Jay.”

The rest of the team comes up the stairs fifteen minutes later.

“We found Nellie at your apartment.” Voight says. “Antonio is with her at Med right now but it looks like she’s going to be okay.”

“And Jay?”

“She doesn’t know anything about it.” Voight says. “But she did tell us something that might help. Mouse, looking into a Penelope Williams. That’s her maiden name, might fill in some blanks.”

“Ok.” Mouse says, typing rapidly. “So, Nellie grew up Penelope Williams to parents Susan and Michael Williams here in Chicago. The thing is, is they also had a son by the name of Gregory.”

“So Nellie is his sister?” Erin asks. “And their parents didn’t keep him. Why?”

“We find that out, we might start to understand a few things about how Yates ticks.” Voight says. “Keep digging.”

“Boss?” Adam calls out. “Nellie’s mother is downstairs.”

“Get her up here.” Voight orders.

Adam motions to Kevin and the two hurry down the stairs.

Susan Baldwin explains why she’d given up her older child when she’d found out she was pregnant again. Why she’d been afraid that he would hurt his baby sister.

It gives them a pretty solid idea what Yates is after, why he’d first come to Chicago, why he’d come back after escaping from prison. He’s looking for his parents, for his mother.

Because Susan Baldwin is a physical match for their profile and would have been twenty five years old, the average age of his victims, when she’d given him up.

They get Susan’s address and the team heads down to the roll – up.

“Voight, I need to do this.” Erin insists, following him down the stairs.

But no matter how much she tries to argue that she’s got her head in the game, that Yates hasn’t gotten to her, her boss isn’t buying it.

“I don’t believe you.” Voight says finally. “You’re staying here.”

And then he joins the others, rolling out.

Lieutenant Benson tries to comfort her, promises her that they will get Yates.

But it’s not enough.

This has been personal for a very long time and now this asshole has her partner.

Jay still can’t move.

Whatever the paralytic he’s been given is, the guy keeps re-injecting him so it’s got to be short lived. If the asshole forgets, just for a little bit, maybe he can fight back.

But the van stops moving and then he can hear the door sliding open next to him.

And then Gregory Yates is in his face.

“Oh wow.” he says. “How the mighty have fallen.”

Jay wants so badly to move, to kick the bastard in the face.

“Ohh noooo.” Yates says, running his hand over Jay’s face. “No more drugs for you, you’ll be able to move again soon enough. Not that it will matter but uh… it’ll be nice to see you try to fight back.”

“Greg.” the other man cautions.

“Shut up, dad.” Gregory snaps. “If I want your advice I’ll ask for it.”

“Sorry.” the man says.

“Help me get him in the chair.” Greg orders.

They each grab an armpit and lever Jay off the ground, dragging him across the uneven and cracking floorboards.

He’s dumped into a large, wide backed chair. They let go of him and he slumps forward, chin resting heavily on his chest.

He can see the floor in front of him from this angle, can see the gaping hole.

What exactly is it that Yates is planning to do to him?

And what does he want from Erin?

“Don’t you worry, Jay.” Yates says. “We’ve still got to pretty you up for our mutual friend.”

His father pulls Jay’s head back, holding it steady while Yates starts throwing punches.

There’s a fury behind the punches that doesn’t match with the usual damage that they’ve seen from Yates. There’s always been violence in his crimes but it’s also been… playful doesn’t seem right for the horror of the man’s crimes but it can’t be denied that he’d enjoyed toying with the women that he’s killed.

His recent crimes have shown an escalation is desperation but so far none of this fury.

Another blow to the face snaps his head to the side, knocking it free of the man behind him’s hold. He hears something crack and feels blood running down his face.

Yate’s father just grabs the rope around his wrists and pulls his hands up over his head, leaving his stomach vulnerable as Yates rains blows down.

Jay groans, clenching his jaw to keep from crying out.

Yates doesn’t deserve a response, not from him and not from Erin.

He can’t do anything about Erin, in fact it seems as if he’ll be contributing to getting the response the man wants from Erin whether he likes it or not, but he can control his own response.

“Detective.” Nellie Cerr calls as she runs down the stairs, holding up a phone. “It’s my mother’s. It says it’s coming from me, but I don’t have my phone.”

Erin stares at the device before scrambling to take it from her and answer the call.

“Oh, it’s my two favorite women on my dear mother’s phone.” Yates
says and she can hear someone groaning in the background, a groan that she can recognizes. “What are the odds?”

“Dad?” Nellie asks as another man comes into view behind Yates. “No. What is this? Why is he doing this? Guard her. Get her mother. Buzz me up.”

Leaving Nellie in Trudy’s hands, she jogs up the stairs.

“Did you think at all about what I said about Cain and Abel?” Yates asks, “I mean, we’ve all got a little murder in us. It’s a gift from our parents. Is that right, Dad?”

The man looks to the ground and she can hear heavy breathing in the background, her stomach sinking more and more as she considers who it must be.

“Is that why you called?” she asks. “To tell me that?”

“Are you recording me again?” Yates taunts. “You are really just begging for a confession, aren’t you?”

“So are you.” Erin returns. “You want to tell the story of your sister, your mother, your father so bad, you created all of this, so start talking or tell me where you are.”

Yates huffs with a grin.

“I knew I could count on you, Detective.”

“When we first met, you said I reminded you of someone.” Erin presses. “I’m 5’4, brunette.”

She narrows her eyes.

“It’s your mother.” she asks. “I remind you of your mother, don’t I?”

“We’ll talk about that,” Yates cautions. “but let’s... let’s begin with the fact that your team went to the wrong place.”

Her phone alerts with a text.

“Now, that will be Detective Tutuola.” Yates says with a snicker. “Have you figured out where I am yet?”

She looks up as Mouse presses a post-it with the address against the window.

“Yes.” she answers.

“Then come.” he orders. “Come, and we’ll talk more.”

“No.” she says, shaking her head.

Yates steps around, bringing Jay’s face into the camera view.

“But come alone or there will be another body to add to the list, and... the answer is yes.” Yates says. “You do remind me of my mother. Right before she threw me in the trash.”

She screeches to a halt in front of the old house.

Voight is pissed but she’s not about to wait for him even just five minutes. Not with Jay’s life on the line if she doesn’t show up.

She draws her weapon and moves through the house. The place is old, decrepit and barely standing.

Where is Yates? Where’s his partner? Where’s her partner?

It takes everything she has to clear the house properly, looking for anyone lying in wait rather than just rushing ahead in search of Yates.

But with Voight’s doubts, doubts that she can’t deny are reasonably justified, in her mind she has to do this right.

Besides, she won’t act recklessly and risk Jay’s life in the process.

The caution is how she finds Michael Williams lying in wait.

“Stand up.” she growls, pressing her gun against his back.

“I don’t… I don’t want to hurt anyone.” he says, voice shaking.

“You kidnapped a cop.” she says. “How does that sound for not wanting to hurt anyone?”

“I owed it to him.” Michael says. “For what I did.”

“I know what you did.” Erin says. “And maybe it wasn’t right but helping him do this doesn’t make things any better.”

“I don’t know what else to do for him.” Michael says desperately, setting down the gun that he’s holding. “I don’t know what to do.”

“The best thing that you can do for Greg right now is to help me bring him into custody before he hurts anyone else.” Erin says. “Now where is he?”

“Up the stairs and down the hall.” Michael says, drooping. “Just don’t kill him. Please.”

“I won’t if I don’t have to.” she tells him, cuffing him to the banister and then making her way up the stairs.

She reaches the room that he’d told her about, coming around the corner slowly.

But there’s no sign of Yates.

And no sign of Jay.

Only a noose hanging from the ceiling, disappearing through a hole in the floor.

“Yates.” she shouts. “You said you wanted to talk. I’m here.”

“I’m not.” a tinny voice echoes and she looks over to see a tape recorder sitting on the chair next to the hole. “Not anymore.”

She moves toward it, grimacing when she notices that the chair is covered in blood.

“Detective Halstead and I had a nice chat while we were waiting for you.” Yates continues over the recording and Erin’s breath catches in her throat. “He really loves you, doesn’t he?”

“We’ll be waiting for you in Oak Woods Cemetery.” Yates adds before she can even truly process his words. “You can waste time trying to figure out which grave or you can just come. S’not exactly a big place so I think you won’t have too much trouble finding us.”

A cemetery?

Why does that worry her even more than this condemned old house?

“Don’t take too long though. Jay and I won’t wait forever.”

“Erin?”

She turns back as Voight rushes into the room.

“He isn’t here.” she says, lifting the recorder with a gloved hand. “Wants to meet at a cemetery.”

“Erin.” he cautions.

“He’s hurt.” she snaps, pointing to the blood on the chair. “I don’t know how badly but it doesn’t matter, I’m not going to just walk away and leave him with that son of a bitch.”

“Alright.” Voight says. “I wasn’t going to stop you. But you’re not going alone this time.”

She nods sharply.

“I’ll call Mouse.” she says. “Yates said it wasn’t necessary to identify the grave. That I would be able to figure it out once I got there but it would be nice to know what the game is.”

“What cemetery?” Voight asks. “I’m driving.”

“Oak Woods.” she says as the phone starts ringing.

They stop just short of the cemetery entrance, Voight getting out of the car and Erin sliding over to get behind the wheel.

As he drifts into the darkness, coordinating with the rest of the team on a secure channel as they surround the cemetery, she drives along the narrow road, looking for signs of Yates.

At first she doesn’t see anything.

Like Yates had said, it’s a small place but there’s no sign of him or Jay. At least not until flames leap up in the distance.

She follows the road toward it, bringing the car to stop after only a few hundred yards.

Yates is sitting in a fucking folding camp chair next to the grave, a bonfire lit in front of him.

But her gaze is more focused on the tree behind him. Jay is standing there, wrists bound above his head and suspended from the tree branches.

His eyes are closed, head resting on his chest and his body hanging heavily from the ropes.

Firewood is leaned up around the base of the tree, tied in place and looking horrifyingly like some kind of a pyre.

She gets out of the car, her weapon in hand and held down to her side.

“You made it.” Greg cheers, holding up an amber bottle. “Glad you could join us, mum.”

He’s drunk.

“That’s right, Greg.” she says, drawing her gaze away from Jay. “I’m here. Why don’t you let the Detective go now?”

“I don’t think so, Mum.” Greg says, dropping the bottle and picking up a lighter from the drink holder of the chair. “And dad is hardly a Detective. The man can hardly figure out how to drive a truck.”

Whatever delusions have been slowly building in Yates for years seem to be taking over and Erin doesn’t know how much she should or shouldn’t play into them.

She can see the blood covering Jay’s face even in the dim light and past the shadows cast by the flames. Can see the sweat running down his neck.

And soaking his clothes.

Shit.

She glances back at the lighter in Yates’ hands, the lighter that he’s casually flicking open and closed as he watches her.

Jay’s been drenched in gasoline, tied to a tree surrounded by firewood and Yates is sitting there playing with a lighter.

And he’s standing there less than five feet from a roaring bonfire. A single stray spark could send everything up in flames.

“Let him go, Greg.” she repeats.

“I’m not mad at him.” Yates says. “Not really. He was just doing what you told him to do. Nobody would let me get anywhere near you though but they weren’t so much as glancing in his direction.”

Guilt floods Erin.

Yates has had his eyes on their entire team. And the team had only had their eyes on her, even more so because she had let the bastard get to her, which had left the rest of her team, including her partner, vulnerable.

“Well I’m standing right here now, Greg.” she says. “So why don’t you leave him be and focus your anger where it belongs?”

Jay hasn’t stirred and she can’t help but worry. Has he been drugged again or is his unconsciousness a result of the beating that he’d received?

“Can’t do that now, can I?” Greg says. “You know in Salem they couldn’t go after the devil himself either so they had to worry about the blasted witches making alliances and doing his bidding now didn’t they? Don’t suppose you remember what they did to them?”

Her grip tightens on her weapon. If Yates wasn’t playing with the lighter like that or if she could get him to move just a little further away from Jay then she could take her shot.

She could finally be done with all of this.

“Sure.” she agrees. “But none of those Puritans ever had a shot at the devil himself. Not like you do. I’m standing right here, Greg.”

“You think I don’t see you, Erin?” he says. “That I don’t understand what’s happening and who’s here right in front of me? But I can see the parallels plain as day. How similar you are to my dear old mum.”

“I know I look a lot like her.” she says.

“We are so similar, you and I.” he says, shaking his head. “Damaged by a terrible mother. A father who abandoned us when we could have saved it, and we tried to overcome, didn’t we? To become healers, but turns out, fixing people doesn’t pave over what you’re born with.”

“So then who am I?” she asks. “You? Or your mother? Cause I can’t be both Yates. Why am I here?”

“An execution always needs one thing.” he says, standing up.

“No.”

“A witness.” he growls, flicking open the lighter.

“No!”

He brings the lighter toward Jay. She raises her weapon but she can’t… Jay’s legs swing up, kicking the lighter out of the man’s hand.

With a yell, Yates charges at her, his other hand coming up with an ice pick.

Erin doesn’t hesitate, putting two rounds center of mass.

Voight is there almost immediately, his hand falling gently on her shoulder as the other reaches for the weapon in her hands. She lets him take it, looking up at her partner.

Kim and Kevin are already with him, Kevin supporting his weight while Kim cuts the ropes away from his wrists.

She wants to rush to him, to cradle her boyfriend’s face in her hands and beg him to tell her that he’s alright.

But there’s protocol to see to, a shooting investigation to handle.

Just as she’s about to let Voight lead her away, Jay looks up, making eye contact with her.

The skin around his eyes is already dark, he’ll have a pair of spectacular black eyes by morning. But his eyes are gentle, reassuring.

He’s going to be okay and as soon as she’s made her statement in triplicate she’ll be there to help him however she can while he recovers.

Chapter Text

Jay watched Gish walk away from their car with an uneasy feeling in his gut, glancing to the rearview mirror to see the smoke and flames leaping up from the destroyed patrol car.

Erin was already leaping out of their car, keying up her phone to request fire department assistance at their location. He tossed the pizza box into the backseat, wiping grease off onto his pant leg. He slid out of the car, taking a step toward the car before stopping as the world in front of him spun and swayed. He grabbed for the roof of the car to steady himself, opening his mouth to call to Erin but no sound came out. Then his knees gave out underneath him and he saw the ground racing up toward him.

The steady sound of running water nearby was his first greeting as he returned to consciousness. He blinked open his eyes to find himself in a cool, dark place surrounded by rough stone walls. He shook his head, trying to clear it and remember how he had gotten here. Then he became aware of a presence to his right and turned to see Adrian Gish crouched next to him. He tried to move away, only to discover that his hands were tied behind him, the ropes securing him to a metal pipe.

“I’m going to let go of this valve in a moment.” Adrian said, “I suggest you get ready to keep it open.”

The words took a moment to sink in and then he was feeling around behind him, testing his range of motion, and finding the plastic-coated wheel.

“What happens if it closes?” he asked.

“If the valve closes, it completes a circuit which will send the signal to activate an incendiary device that I have placed in the public permits offices. You’ve seen what my fires are capable of, a public building like that, people will get hurt.”

He clenches his jaw, holding his grip on the valve, and feels Adrian moving away from him. As the force transfers to him, he is surprised by how much pull is attempting to return the valve to its neutral, closed position.

“I’ve given it a little help.” Gish says, “If you lose your grip for even a moment, those people are going to die.”

Water soaking into his jeans draws his attention to the pipe behind him and to the right. As long as the valve is open, water will continue to flow into this chamber. And by the looks of it, there isn’t an outlet.

“Astute observation.” Gish says, that creepy smile on his face, “If you don’t close the valve, this room will eventually fill with water. You have two hours by my best estimate.”

“You’re a sick bastard.” He tells him.

Gish just smiles at him, pulling a rag from his pocket and forcing it into Jay’s mouth, tying it securely behind his head.

“I’m going to contact your team now. Tell them there’s a device in the city and that you have so kindly volunteered as the fuse. Can’t have you giving away any secrets though.” He says with a wink.

He swings a backpack from his back and retrieves a tripod, setting up a camera on it facing Jay from a few feet away.

“Sergeant Voight,” the man says from off to the side as it starts recording, “Your detective is very generously keeping the valve open in this room. The time is currently 1142. In approximately two hours, the water level will rise above his head, he will drown, and the valve will close. When that happens, an incendiary device will be activated in a public location. Please alert CFD to be on standby.”

He deactivated the camera and packed up his gear.

“I’m going to drop this off and then go watch the fireworks.” He says, a slightly manic light in his eye.

They have set up shop in the dayroom at the firehouse on the assumption that, whatever Gish is planning, there will be fire.

“Thanks.” Antonio tells the lab, hanging up his phone. “The pizza box had a heavy-duty sedative on the bottom. It absorbed through skin contact within seconds of him taking it from Gish. He probably dropped the second he got out of the car.”

Voight’s jaw twitched, but then he nodded.

“Any leads on the car?”

“The plates come back hot and so far; I haven’t got any hits on the plate scanners. BOLO is out on the vehicle.” Atwater answered,
“His phone hasn’t gotten any hits since the alley at 2034.” Erin reports, her face a twisted painting of guilt. “I’ve gotten one cell number for Gish off his coworkers, but the ping on that comes back dead. We’re trying to track through the dumped GPS data to identify a location, but nothing is jumping out.”

“Alright.” Voight nods, “You and Antonio keep combing that data, try to piece together a timeline. If we have to start hitting places one at a time, we will. Atwater and Ruzek head back to Gish’s apartment. We must have missed something.”

Hermann walks into the room.

“A kid just dropped this off.” He says, holding up a flash drive. “Says an old guy paid him a hundred bucks to bring it by. Severide is sitting with him in case you guys wanted to ask him a few questions but he ID’d the guy as Gish based on a photo.”

They waste no time getting the drive in a computer, and a video immediately starts playing. Jay is seated on the floor, hands tied behind him and gagged, but he looks unharmed. There is a couple inches of standing water on the floor. Gish’s voice enters the tape.

“Sergeant Voight. Your detective is very generously keeping the valve open in this room. The time is currently 1142. In approximately two hours, the water level will rise above his head, he will drown, and the valve will close. When that happens, an incendiary device will be activated in a public location. Please alert CFD to be on standby.”
The video ends, and Antonio snaps his fingers.

“That’s an old water drainage room. I recognize the stonework and the pipe assembly behind Jay.”

“There’re hundreds of those scattered around the city.” Atwater says, shaking his head and looking down at his watch, “No way we can search them in... twenty minutes.”

“We don’t have to.” Voight says, something that sounds an awful lot like pride in his voice, “Herman, tell Boden that I need to borrow the rescue squad and to have the rest of the station on standby to head to that public building as soon as Jay tells me where it is.”

Hermann nods and sprints back out of the room.

“You.. recognize a water drainage room on sight?” Ruzek asks, looking impressed.

“Did you notice Jay blinking his eyes?” Voight asks, making a call, “That’s not just the drugs, he was giving us the location in morse code. All of those chambers have a number designation.”

Boden enters with Matt Casey on his heels as Voight thanks whoever is on the phone and hangs up, following them as they hurry to the truck bay, the members of the rescue squad joining them.

“I’ll call you when I get the location on the incendiary device.” He tells his team, “I need everyone on the evacuation.”

As they reach the bay, squad jumps into their vehicle, Casey hurrying over to the truck to grab his own turnout gear.

“I’m sending your team to Halstead’s location.” Boden tells Severide as he jumps up, “I’d like to send Lieutenant Casey with them. We have an incendiary device somewhere in the city in a very public building and I need you on hand to help locate it when we get to the building location.”

Severide nods, turning to his friend.

“Take care of my guys.” He says.

Casey nods, jumping into the passenger seat of an unfamiliar vehicle.

“I will.”

Voight calls the location to Casey before jumping into his car and peeling out of the station.

Voight reaches the drainage room well before the fire department vehicle and wastes no time shooting out a lock and climbing down in the chamber.

Jay has his head tipped back, pushing his face up as far as he can to keep it out of the water and Voight races over to his detective, pulling the gag from his mouth and helping to lift him, being careful to not bump his hands as they hold tightly onto the valve control.

“The device is in the public permit offices.” Jay gasps, “He didn’t tell me anything more than that.”

“Alright,” Voight says, “That’s good. We’ll find it. CFD is right behind me with an oxygen tank that has your name on it. Did Gish say anything about where he was headed?”
“He said he wanted to watch the fireworks.”

“You did good.” Voight tells him, shifting to get his phone free so he can call Antonio.

“Public permit offices.” He growls as soon as the line connects.

“On our way.” The man replies, and he hangs up.

He sees the fear in Jay’s eyes as the water inches higher and the man takes a deep breath just before his face is completely covered. The door slams open and Tony Parker races into the room, a scuba tank slung over his shoulder. He hurries over to them and slides the mask over Jay’s face, cinching down the straps and starting the flow.

Voight helps Jay sag to the ground, his head falling back against the pipes behind him as steady access to oxygen returns.

Five minutes later, Matt Casey enters the room, wearing a full scuba kit and with Arnold Capp and Sylvie Brett on his heels.

“He’s already severely hypothermic.” He says in response to Voight’s questioning look, “We can’t wait until they find that device to get him out of here.”

He doesn’t wait for Voight’s nod, turning to give instructions.

“We’re going to open the valve further to buy some lee-way for the transfer and then I will take over holding it. I need the two of you to cut him loose and get him out of here. But listen to Brett. At this stage of hypothermia, he’s at risk of cardiac arrest if we move him too quickly.”

The two firefighters nod, and Voight moves aside to let Casey squeeze in next to Jay. The fire lieutenant takes hold of the valve, turning it several more inches to the right before setting his grip. He nods to Cap, who moves in with a cutting tool to slice the ropes holding Jay in place.

As they start to pull him away, the man panics, clearly disoriented and unwilling to relinquish his grip on the valve.

“Halstead!” Voight cries, moving in to help settle him, knowing this struggle could be fatal in his current condition.

Then the kid goes completely limp, and Sylvie moves forward.

“Let’s get him out of here.” She orders and the two men immediately peel tightly clenched fingers from the wheel, shifting to lift the man out of the water and on to the backboard that Sylvie is sliding forward.

Voight follows as they carry his detective out of the small, cramped space, Sylvie checking for a pulse before starting compressions.

“We’re in arrest.” She announces, “Mills, start a line and get 1mg of epi into him. Kernal, get the AED ready.”

Peter Mills joins them as they get into the sunlight, Tony and Cap quickly resting the backboard on the gurney he is wheeling as he moves around his partner to set an IV line in Jay’s left arm. He then quickly cuts away Jay’s-soaked shirt with shears, wiping away as much moisture as possible while Kernal sets the AED on the side of the gurney before removing the scuba mask and replacing it with a clear, plastic oxygen mask.

Sylvie pauses compressions while Mills is getting ready for the AED, moving to cut away the rest of Jay’s wet clothing. Tony helps her strip him down to boxers and Capp is on hand with a blanket to re-wrap his legs, tucking it gently around motionless limbs.

As soon as the AED is in place, Sylvie’s attention is on the screen, watching like a hawk while it analyzes rhythms.

“Clear.” She snaps, and everyone pulls back as she hits the button.

Jay’s limp frame jolts and she resumes compressions, stopping after a cycle to allow the machine to re-analyze.

“Clear.” She orders again, pressing the button to trigger another shock.

After another cycle of compressions, she pulls back. Analyze. Another Shock. More compressions. Analyze.

“We have sinus rhythm.” She announces. “Let’s go.”

The stretcher is loaded into the back of the ambulance and Brett jumps up after it, Mills running around to jump in the driver’s seat. Capp closes the doors, slapping them twice and the ambulance peels out.

Voight watches it go for a moment before turning to the three rescue squad members.

“I’m going to go find that bastard.” He tells them, “You guys have Casey?”

They nod, and he hurries back to his truck, fishing out his phone as he goes. The line connects as he starts the engine.

“Please tell me you found him.” Will Halstead begs.

“He’s headed your way now.” Voight promises.

“How bad is it?”

“He’s severely hypothermic.” He tells him, “Went into cardiac arrest as we were getting him out, but they got him back.”

The other man let out a long breath.

“Okay.” He says after a moment. “We’ll be ready.”

“I have to go find this bastard.”

“Punch him in the face for me.” Will said, uncharacteristically sharp, before hanging up the phone.

He finds Gish easily. The man is sitting on the balcony of a restaurant across the street from the public permit office, sipping a cup of tea while he watches the hive of activity on the street.

“How is Detective Halstead?” he asks when he sees Voight approaching.

“Precautionary check-up at Med, but otherwise he’s uninjured.” Voight lies. “You screwed this one up.”

“In this weather.” The man says, raising an eyebrow.

“Kid must be part polar bear.” Voight says with a shrug, “Paramedics said he’d probably get released in under an hour with instructions to go home and have some warm soup.”

“You’re lying.” Gish snarls.

“And you’re under arrest. For the kidnapping and attempted murder of a Chicago Police Detective. Stand up.”

Kelly Severide finds the device in just under two hours and the valve is shut off in the drainage room. Matt Casey is taken for a quick checkup at Med, but the wetsuit that he wore provided sufficient protection from the cold water, so he is quickly released with instructions to keep warm.

Severide is waiting for him in the waiting room, having handed over the device to the Intelligence team.

“I doubled back to the station to pick up some of your extra jackets.” He says, handing the warm fleece over while keeping the heavier coat draped over his arm for the moment.

“Thanks.” He says, shrugging into the fleece and reaching for the coat. “Any news on Halstead?”

“No further cardiac events.” Kelly reports, “Last I heard, his temp is up to 93 degrees so he’s not out of the woods yet but heading in the right direction. Voight and his brother are with him now.”

“What about Gish?”

“In custody. Antonio and the rest of the team are interviewing him now but between the positive ID the kid who delivered the flash drive made, the fact that every one of us can identify his voice on the video and that Jay will be able to testify against him, its more for something to do while they wait for news than anything. The crime lab is going over the device we found now and it’s looking like they’ll be able to provide expert testimony supporting his involvement in the other fires based on that. He’s going away for a couple lifetimes.”

“Nobody else is hurt?”

“We found the device before it went up. Thanks to you and Halstead. Arson investigators are doing a second sweep of the building now, just to make sure he didn’t have a backup in place, but it looks like it’s over. We finally got the guy. Before he killed anyone else.”

“Good.” Matt says, finally relaxing.

Up in the ICU, Will Halstead is set up in the chair at his brother’s bedside. He has his chair angled so that his feet can be propped up next to his brother’s legs and he is scrolling through something on his phone, replying to occasional requests for updates on Jay’s condition. Voight is sitting on the other side of the bed, a cup of coffee nestled in his hands as he stared at his unconscious detective, eyes a mile away.

Jay’s fingers twitch under his brother’s hand and Will sets his phone aside, feet swinging to the floor as he sits up and leans forward.

“Jay?” he says, properly taking hold of his brother’s hand. “You with us, bud?”

Voight shakes out of his stupor, setting his coffee aside as he also leans forward.

Jay’s eye squeeze tighter, head rolling slightly toward his brother’s voice.

“Can you open your eyes for me?” Will says, glancing up toward the screen to note the elevated heart rate and temperature of 94.3 degrees.

Eyelashes flutter and then green eyes are staring blearily up at him.

“There you are.” Will says, smiling, “How do you feel?”

“Cold.”

“I bet.” Will says, with a huffed laugh, “A lot warmer than you were when you got here though.”

“Gish?”

“In custody.” Will assured him, “And before you ask, they got the device before it went off. Nobody else was hurt.”

Jay’s eyes blink a few times, and then he nods, licking his lips.

“Here.” Will says, reaching behind him for the cup of water and holding it over his brother, angling the straw towards slightly blue lips.

Jay lifts his head and takes a few sips before settling back on the pillow.

“Thanks.”

His head swivels to the other side, and he sees Voight.

“Sarge.”

“Detective.” Voight replies in a similar tone. “Good job today.”

Jay nodded, clearly too exhausted to formulate a response to the uncharacteristic praise from his oft-times hard to please boss.

“Go back to sleep, kid.” Voight said and Jay nodded again, glancing back over at his brother, who nodded, already kicking his feet back up onto the edge of the bed.

“Not going anywhere, bro.” he assures.

Eyes blinked closed and breathing settled back into a slow, steady rhythm.

A glance up at the monitors showed the temperature up to 94.5 degrees, and Voight picked his coffee back up, settling back into the chair.

Chapter Text

“Hey.” Angela calls as the men retreat up the stairs. “Hey, there’s something you should know.”

Both of the men turn back. Jay tenses. If she does this, they both end up dead.

“And what is that?” the older, angrier, of the two, Hector, says.

“My “friend” over there has been lying to me.” she says. “Lying about who he is. Lying to you.”

“Yeah?” Hector says, glancing back at Jay. “Who is he really, then?”

“He’s a cop.” Angela spits out. “His name is Jay Halstead and he’s a fucking cop.”

And that’s it.

Hector turns back to Jay.

“That true?” he asks. “You a cop?”

Jay holds the man’s gaze for a minute, trying to decide if denying it will do them any good.

“Yeah.” he finally says. “I am.”

“So then your friends.” Hector says, getting up in his face. “Your friends with our drugs are also cops? I suppose that’s why dad isn’t returning my calls.”

Jay just nods.

“Well.” Hector scoffs. “I suppose that means we don’t need our girl, Angela, anymore.”

“No.” Jay says, shaking his head. “Don’t kill her, please. She has a little boy and she’s all he has left.”

“She stole our drugs, killed our friend.” Luis says from the stairs. “What kind of message does it send if we just let her go?”

“It doesn’t send any message at all.” Jay says. “Nobody knows she was involved. This was Carlos’ party, she was just the driver. She’s got no connect to your drugs or anyone else’s for that matter. Let her go, let her get back to her kid.”

“I want the drugs back.” Hector says. “Nobody goes anywhere until that happens.”

“I’ll get you your drugs back.” Jay says. “My team has them, I know how they operate and I can make it happen for you but you have to let Angela go first. She needs a doctor.”

“So you can lead us into the same kind of trap that they led my dad into?” Hector snarls.

“You don’t have to.” Jay says. “Leave her here. Take me somewhere else and I won’t fight you, won’t try to escape. Once we’re set, I call my team to come pick her up. And once I know she’s safe, I’ll tell you everything you need to know to get your drugs and your dad back without getting caught.”

“You think you’re calling the shots here?” Hector says, punching him in the face.

“Either you give me what I’m asking for; in which case you get your drugs back, your dad walks free and as a bonus you get to kill a cop.” Jay says. “Or you can play this your game and maybe we die but you never see your drugs again and your dad does hard time. And odds aren’t looking so great for the two of you either.”

Hector punches him again.

“Hector wait.” Luis says. “Maybe he’s right. We don’t need Angela anymore.”

Hector turns to glare at his brother.

“We have to get dad out of there.” Luis insists. “Just give him what he wants. Let the girl go back to her kid. I think she’s learned her lesson.”

“Fine.” Hector scowls. “Go upstairs and get some more rope.”

“Yeah, okay.” Luis says, turning to jog up the stairs.

Hector pulls out a knife, turning his attention back to Jay and holding it in front of his throat.

“You try to play any games with us and I will bleed you like a pig, slowly and painfully.” he threatens.

“And if this goes the way you want?” Jay whispers, trying not to move too much.

“Then maybe I kill you nice and quick.” Hector tells him and then he’s cutting the ropes securing Jay’s wrists to the pipes. “Stand up.”

Jay struggles to his feet. Luis comes back with rope in hand.

Jay looks over at Angela who’s watching them with confusion and fear. Gritting his teeth and swallowing hard, he turns away, placing his hands behind his back.

Luis winds the rope tightly around his wrists before pulling it tight and tying off the knots.

Hector punches him hard in the stomach and he doubles over, struggling to stay on his feet.

“Let’s go, pig.” he growls, shoving Jay toward the stairs.

Jay stumbles but manages to stay upright, climbing the stairs one step at a time as Hector keeps a firm, bruising grip on his arm.

He’s gonna die but as long as Angela gets back to Bobby it’s all worth it.

Hailey looks up as Adam and Kevin return with Emilio.

She hates playing it this way. Emilio has managed thus far to stay clear of the family business and she knows this risks changing that.

But this is different.

They have her partner.

As she gets up, moves to follow Voight into the interview room her phone rings.

“Upton.”

“There’s a warehouse.” her partner says, a slightly pained catch on his breath. “1980 Polaski.”

“Jay?” she says, motioning for Kim to start tracing the call. “Are you okay?”

“Hurry.”

The line goes dead.

Kim shakes her head but Hailey doesn’t need the confirmation that the call had been way too short to get a location.

“We’ve got a location.” she calls, getting Voight’s attention. “Warehouse at 1980 Polaski.”

“He tell you anything else?” Voight says.

“Just that we need to hurry.” she says.

“Let’s move.” he orders.

The warehouse is quiet as they roll up and the entrance is tightly secured. Voight sends her and Kevin around the perimeter to look for another entrance point while they work on it.

It doesn’t take her long to find a window. It’s small, but she’s smaller and with a boost from Kevin she’s able to make it through.

It’s an enormous space to be clearing on her own but she moves through it, slowly and methodically.

At least until she hears a scream as she approaches a staircase.

She runs down the stairs, reaching for her radio as she sees Angela Nelson lying against pipes at the back corner of the room.

There’s blood pooling from her stomach.

“I have Angela Nelson, need an ambo, she’s injured.” she radios.

“Do you have Jay?” Voight calls back as she kneels next to Angela, pressing her hands into the woman’s injury.

She glances over at another set of pipes with ropes knotted around them and blood on the ground.

“He’s not here.” she radios back.

“They took him.” Angela says. “I… I told them he was a cop. They were going to kill us both but he… he made a deal for me.”

Hailey’s stomach twists.

Of course he did. She wants to be angry at the woman in front of her but it’s hard.

Jay had gotten emotionally involved and he’d driven a little harder than usual but he hadn’t violated any policy. And the way things ended hadn’t been his fault no matter how much of the blame Jay heaped on his own shoulders.

But yelling at Angela now won’t accomplish anything.

“I was just so angry and I lashed out and he… he gave himself up to save me.” Angela says, gasping as Hailey shifts her pressure.

“He’s like that.” Hailey mutters. “Did they say anything about where they were going?”

“No.. but Jay said… once they got him confirmation that I was taken care of he would tell them everything he could about you guys to help them get their drugs and their dad back.” Angela says.

And there’s the deal.

Angela had sold him out, sold them both out and in return Jay is sacrificing his only chance at survival so that Angela can get back home to her son.

She can hear the rattle of the stretcher on the stairs.

“Ambulance is here now.” she tells the woman. “They’ll take care of you, get you back to Bobby.”

“Find him. Please.” Angela begs. “I don’t… I don’t know what happened with Marcus but he… he helped me so he can’t … he can’t be as bad of a person as I thought when he first told me he was the one who arrested Marcus.”

“He’s not.” Hailey says, shaking her head. “He… there’s so much about that case that I can’t tell you but he’s not. And I’m going to find him.”

Angela nods and then Hailey is being pushed away by the paramedics.

Jay stares down at the factory floor.

Once they’d gotten him to this new location he’d been brought up onto a catwalk and forced to climb over the railing.

Both wrists have been bound to the railings and additional ropes wrap around his ankles, knees and waist to keep him in place. And too much struggling carries the risk of him falling twenty feet onto the equipment below.

“And there’s your proof.” Hector says, holding his phone in his face.

There’s a picture of Angela being wheeled into an ambulance, Hailey walking alongside her.

“The bitch is going to be just fine so now it’s time for you to hold up your end of the bargain.” Hector growls. “How do we get our drugs back?”

“They’ll pull them out of the evidence lock up to trade for me.” Jay says. “But making the meet won’t work for you. They’ll have eyes everywhere and you’ll never get away. You’re best bet is to ambush them on the way to the meet.”

“And how do we pick out the vehicle that has the drugs?” Hector asks, pressing his gun to Jay’s throat.

“They’ll bring it inside the roll-up to load the drugs and your dad.” Jay says. “Just watch for the car that pulls out of the building, not just the lot.”

“And then we ambush them before they get to the meeting location.” Hector says. “That sounds too easy.”

“It is.” Jay says. “There will be a car tailing them that you’ll need to distract and that’s only gonna give you a short window. And location matters.”

“Oh yeah.” Hector scoffs. “Let you pick out the location so you can tip your friends off.”

He slams the butt of the gun into the side of Jay’s head.

Jay groans, letting his head hang to the side.

“I don’t have to talk to them.” he says without looking back at the man. “Or you can give me a script and I will stick to it, word for word. But the location is important. If you want to get away with this, there needs to be no collateral damage. And you’ll need somewhere where you can get in and out quickly.”

Hector crashes his gun down onto Jay’s shoulder and he growls.

“I am giving you everything you need.” he bites out. “And the hitting is completely unnecessary.”

“And you are pissing me off.” Hector growls back, hitting him again.

“I can pick a location for you.” Jay says. “A location that will work. That will make this work. And I’m willing to do that, even if it means I become useless.”

“I’ll bring back a map.” Hector says, swinging a length of chain over Jay’s head and pulling it tight around his throat.

He pulls it back, forcing Jay to lean back as far as he can, the railing pressing against the small of his back.

Then he fastens it in place on the railing, the links digging painfully into his throat.

“You just hang tight, huh?” Hector whispers into his ear.

Jay can barely feel his back by the time Hector returns and his throat hurts,

Fortunately, Hector releases the chain before holding the map out in front of him.

“So.” he says. “Let’s pick out a location, copper.”

Jay looks over the map, listing off a location.

“That’s where I would set up the meet. Because it will bring them through 191st at Wabash.”

“And that’s where you think we should stage the ambush?” Hector asks.

“Yes.” he says, nodding. “You’ll need to drive another vehicle into the path of the trailing vehicle. Something big like a dump truck or a bus. Your dad will be in the back on the driver’s side. Get to the door fast, get it open fast and get him clear. The drugs will be in the back hatch.”

“Just like that?” Hector asks.

“Just get it done fast.” Jay says. “Don’t waste time trying to kill any of them or getting into a shootout. It won’t work and there will be collateral damage, for you guys, not my team.”

“We’ll have to leave town.” Luis says, behind his brother. “If we kill him they won’t stop hunting us.”

“The hunt will be on as soon as we hit their car.” Hector says. “We’ll never make it out of town.”

“Be ready to go.” Jay says. “And leave a distraction. Make them think they have a chance to save me and they won’t even be looking for you until it’s too late.”

“And maybe they actually save you?” Hector taunts.

“You don’t have to give them a real chance for it to look like there’s one.” Jay says, looking down. “I bet you can figure that one out all on your own.”

Hector smirks at his little brother and then suddenly a knife is in his hand and landing a glancing blow to Jay’s side.

Jay cries out in pain, curling forward.

Then Hector cuts his arms free, immediately shoving him forward enough to jerk them behind his back, tying the them securely together.

And then the chain is on his neck again, wrapped three times around before being secured to the railing.

“Try not to fall.” Hector taunts and then the brothers leave him alone.

Hailey glances into the backseat at their prisoner. Pedro Silva actually seems to think this trade is going to go off. That he’s going to walk away free with his drugs.

She has no intention of letting that happen and she knows that her boss is even less willing.

Something explodes on the street in front of them and Voight slams on the brakes, bringing the SUV to an abrupt halt.

As she twists to get to her weapon, the back door opens and Pedro is pulled out of the car by his youngest son. Hector is opening the back hatch to retrieve the drugs.

But as Luis and Pedro turn to run, they come face to face with Adam and Kevin.

Kim and Vanessa come up at the back, holding their guns on Hector.

It’s just too bad for the drug dealing brothers that the team knows Jay as well as he knows them, something that Jay was almost definitely counting on when he’d made his deal.

Hailey and Voight get out of the car, weapons in hand as they scan the area for additional reinforcements but the Silva brothers apparently decided to handle this on their own.

Hailey glances into the backseat, picking up the sheets of paper that Luis had dropped when he’d grabbed his father’s arm.

At the top of the stack is a photo showing the top of Jay’s head and a glimpse of his hands. Her partner has been shoved into a barrel and her stomach tightens.

The bottom sheet has a single word written on it; ‘factory’. It’s not a lot to go off but a lead is a lead and she’ll take it.

She hands it off to Voight and then turns to Luis. Hector and Pedro have been led away but Kev is still holding onto the younger brother.

“You want a little leniency here?” she asks. “Tell me where my partner is.”

“The scumbag who set us up?” he says. “No way. He’ll be dead soon enough.”

Hailey shakes her head.

“Get him back to the district.” Voight snaps. “Take him to the cage.”

Kevin nods, jerking the young man away and leading him back to a car.

Hailey shuts the back door of the SUV, leaning heavily against it.

“Hang on, Hailey.” Voight says, resting his hand on her shoulder. “We’re going to find him.”

“Alive?” she asks.

“I hope so.”

Being shot hurts.

This isn’t exactly news to Jay. He’s been shot before.

But he’s never been shoved into a barrel that really isn’t quite big enough to accommodate his frame immediately afterwards.

The good news is that the position that he’s been forced into, with his knees rammed into his chest, is actually putting pressure on the abdominal injury. Which will slow the bleeding.

Though, depending on the clue that Luis and Hector have decided to leave for his team, that might just mean that it takes him even longer to slowly, painfully bleed out.

But hopefully it just buys them enough time to find him.

And there’s nothing he can do except to sit here and bleed, waiting for them to come.

The lid of the barrel had been hammered snugly into place once they had him where they wanted to him.

The cramped quarters had removed the necessity of restraining him that hadn’t stopped Hector from wrapping duct tape securely around his wrists and then gagging him.

Even with his hands in front of him, he can’t maneuver well enough in this barrel to get the tape off his mouth.

Which sucks because there’d been a lot of scraping and movement after the lid was on his barrel and if he isn’t mistaken, it had been placed somewhere in the middle of the dozen or so identical barrels he’d seen before getting in.

Without being able to call out to them, even if his team finds the right place, they might not be able to find the right barrel.

Damn it.

He’d accepted that he was going to die when Angela had outed him as a cop. He’d been able to bargain for the woman’s life and that had been more than he’d expected to be able to accomplish.

But a part of him had still believed that his team would be able to save him. That he’d be able to give Hector and Luis a convincing enough plan while still leaving some chance for them to be able to find him.

That hope is fading.

If anyone can find him, it’s his team, but the odds are stacked against them.

It hurts to breathe.

A pulsing pain goes through his stomach with each breath, the breaths more forceful that normal because of the limited air supply.

The lid to the barrel doesn’t quite form an airtight seal and between that and several rust holes (he can see tiny bits of light filtering in) there’s enough air making it in to keep him alive.

But its still stuffy and somewhat suffocating.

He tries to shift, to relieve some of the pressure but there isn’t room, isn’t anywhere for him to shift to.

It’s also hot, despite the cold beginnings of winter beginning to settle on Chicago.

The temperature only increases his discomfort but it also has a sedating effect, the stifling heat beginning to lull him to sleep.

He knows that he shouldn’t but after being awake for the last two days, barring a spell of unconsciousness after being hit over the head with a bat, it’s almost impossible to resist.

Before long, he’s drifting into a restless sleep.

Hailey hates Chicago.

Okay not really but this would be a lot easier if she lived in a city with slightly fewer abandoned factories.

Her original list had been made up of literally hundreds of buildings.

Thankfully she’d been able to narrow the list significantly but focusing on only those producing or using materials that would be transported in barrels.

She’s also been able to narrow her area of focus utilizing the location of the the drug dealer’s home, the stash house, and the warehouse where they’d found Angela.

She’s left with sixteen factories where she might be able to find her partner which is a lot better than where she’d started but still too many to search all of them.

So right now she’s running the histories of those buildings. Chances are the Silva family has a connection to the building where they’ve left Jay to die. She just has to figure out what it is.

Fortunately, she isn’t sifting through the flood of information on her own.

Voight and Kevin are working on Luis, trying to convince him to tell them where Jay is, but Kim, Adam and Vanessa are helping her.

Heavy, clunking footsteps up the stairs draws her attention and she looks up.

If they had a location they would be moving faster than that.

If they had a location Voight’s steps wouldn’t sound so angry.

But maybe they have something.

Voight immediately sees her hopeful gaze and they enter the bullpen and he shakes his head.

“He says factory is all we’re going to get.” he growls. “Even after a little persuasion. Though he did let slip that Jay’s been shot.”

Damn it.

She already knows from what Angela had told her that Jay is suffering from a head wound. That he’d been hit over the back of the head with something hard and that multiple punches to the face hadn’t helped the situation.

A bullet on top of that is a complication that Jay doesn’t need.

She already suspects that the picture and the note had been meant more as a distraction than as a lead. Something for them to focus on while the Silvas had fled town.

But she’d underestimated how much they would hedge their bets, wanting to be sure that Jay wouldn’t be found alive.

But she’s not ready to give up just yet.

“He say where?” she asks even as she pulls up the shotspotter logs.

The cameras aren’t set up in a lot of places around Chicago but maybe she’ll get lucky and get a hit on a gunshot heard near one of the factories on her list.

“Gut shot.” Kevin answers. “So he’s got time but…”

But they still need to find him. Now.

“I’ve got a shotspotter hit from less than an hour before we arrived for the meet.” she announces. “It’s roughly halfway between two of the factories on the list and it was a faint register.”

“Which two?” Adam asks.

She lists them off and a heavy silence fills the room as he and Kim type rapidly.

“Hector Silva had a job at Laurentes Paint Manufacturing just out of high school.” Adam calls out.

“Let’s go.” Voight orders and they all scramble for their jackets.

It’s a huge factory and Voight can’t help but feel like they’re running out of time.

Thanks to the shotspotter, they know exactly how long Jay’s been in that barrel with a bullet wound to the gut but they only know so much about his condition before he was shot.

They split up into pairs of two, ghosting through the vacant hallways and rooms with wide, vaulted ceilings.

All four members of the Silva family are in custody, Emilio stuck under Trudy’s watchful gaze until they can make sure he wasn’t involved in some way, but there could be other associates here so the team is forced to move slowly.

He’s searching with Hailey when they come around a corner to see fourteen large blue barrels, each of them consistent with the picture they’d been given.

There are two rows of four barrels on the ground with the remaining six set atop them.

Voight keys his radio.

“We got barrels on the northwest corner. Keep searching till we get eyes on Jay.” he orders.

Then he turns to Hailey.

“Odds are good that he’s in one of the six with another barrel on top.” he says.

“Jay!” she shouts but there’s no response.

He could be unconscious.

Working together, they are able to move the barrels from the top layer. Hailey slides the crowbar that she’d kept tucked into her vest free and starts prying the lid off a barrel.

As luck would have it, they find Jay in the sixth barrel that they open. The air is thick with the smell of blood and he isn’t moving.

Voight radios out, updating the team and clearing the ambulance to move in.

Hailey tries to rouse him twice before giving up.

Neither of them dares to move him without paramedics on hand, in case there’s spinal damage.

Fortunately, the paramedics move fast and it’s only ten minutes for Jay is being slid slowly from the barrel and onto a backboard.

Hailey reaches in, applying pressure to the leaking hole in his abdomen as the paramedics busy themselves taking vitals and starting IVs.

Soon they are on the move, the paramedics talking rapidly, passing instructions and observations between themselves.

Hailey only has eyes for her partner.

They’d found him.

Alive.

Jay wakes up slowly, the sound of beeping monitors and hissing machines filling his ears.

He’s pain free but the trade off is a fuzzy heaviness that tells him immediately that he has pain meds to thank for that.

It takes longer than he’s willing to admit to for him to notice Hailey sitting next to him, watching him with overbright blue eyes, her entire face drawn with exhaustion.

“Hey.” he breathes.

“Hey.” she says, smiling brightly. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been asleep for a year.” he manages.

“You needed a little rest.” she tells him.

“Hailey.” he says. “You know I hate hospitals.”

“I do.” she says, looking amused.

“You gotta get me out of here.”

“Not an option, no.” she says with a small laugh.

He opens his mouth to argue the point and then there’s movement at the door.

He’s surprised to see Voight pushing Angela in a wheelchair but pushes it down for the moment.

“You going to be okay?” he asks.

“Thank to you.” she says, looking conflicted.

He nods slowly.

“I don’t understand what happened between you and my husband.” she says, a deep frown twisting her lips. “And I get the impression that there are a lot of things I will never understand. But you’re a good man. I’m sorry I told them.”

“You were angry.” he says with a small shrug. “It may not be as clean cut as it looked but I hurt you. And I’m sorry.”

It’s her turn to nod, unable to find words to express her thoughts on the matter.

“I’m going home later today.” she says, breaking eye contact. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t come around to see Bobby any more.”

“Okay.” Jay agrees.

Angela just nods, looking up at Voight who backs the wheelchair from the room.

Jay’s silent for a long time and finally Hailey reaches out, putting a hand on his arm.

“You okay?”

“I… maybe?”

“You will be.” she promises him. “You did good Jay but it’s time to let it go.”

He nods silently, staring at his hands.

Chapter Text

It’s late when Jay finally leaves the station.

They’ve identified the bomber and now they just have to locate him. Unfortunately, the best way to do that will be through his supplier, George Lehr, but that’s going to take time.

So Voight has sent them all home for the night, encouraging them to get some rest.

But Jay’s distracted and honestly, a little bit angry.

They never should have released Mark Tremon’s picture to the media. His presence in the vicinity of the studio around the time of the bombing had been to tenuous a link to justify the action.

And Antonio’s stubborn refusal to consider that it had been the wrong move throughout the remainder of the day frustrates him even more.

They’d destroyed the name of a good man based on what had ended up being little more than a coincidence.

And a call had come over the police radio while he’d been finishing up paperwork that someone had thrown a brick through Mark’s front window.

Somehow he doubts the city will reimburse the man for the replacement.

And all the anger, the hatred that had been spewing toward the man on social media hits a little close to home right now.

Because it hadn’t been that long ago that it was his name blowing up on social media with claims that he was a racist monster and a child killer.

He’d gotten a press conference to clear his name; a well respected Alderman telling the entire city that he wasn’t at fault for what had happened.

Mark Tremon won’t be getting that.

After a long day of trying to solve a case while arguing with Antonio, trying to convince him to at least stop causing further damage, Jay just wants to go home and have a drink.

The silencer doesn’t keep him from hearing the gun as it fires but it does slow down his mind’s recognition of the sound.

But it’s hard to mistake the feeling of the bullet punching through his shoulder for anything else.

He drops to his knees, left hand coming up to clutch his shoulder as his right goes to the holster on his hip.

“Don’t.” a cold voice says as the barrel of a gun presses up against the back of his head.

He’s still in the fucking police lot for shit’s sake. It’s unlikely that the shot was heard inside the building but someone could come out at any moment.

And then a hand is reaching over his shoulder to press a rag into his hand. He accepts it, adjusting his grip to press it against the wound on his shoulder.

If the gun wasn’t in play, he might be tempted to turn and try to fight off his attacker but he doesn’t trust himself to disarm the man with one hand, not before he can get another shot off.

He hears a loud tearing sound and then duct tape is being wrapped around his torso, pinning his left arm in place across his chest.

He turns then, trying to struggle away but his left arm is already trapped and his right responds sluggishly at best to his command to throw a punch.

He’s pushed back, slammed against the front bumper of a cruiser as the man continues to wind the tape.

“Help!” he screams, knowing that the response will be immediate. “Somebody help!”

The tape is torn off and then an arm is around his throat, cutting off all sound as he’s pulled back against a firm chest and the gun pressed up under his chin.

The man doesn’t stand watch with his hostage, waiting for officers to pour out of the side entrance of the precinct but instead starts dragging him back.

Jay tries to resist the pull, digging his feet in in an attempt to slow them down but his upper body is being pulled back and he’s forced to take small, staggering steps in order to take some pressure off his airway.

This late, the response isn’t quite what he would have hoped, with a single patrol officer racing through the door. She immediately radios for backup, drawing her weapon but the man holding him doesn’t even slow down.

“Stop!” she shouts. “Let him go! Now!”

There’s no response from behind him other than for the arm across his throat to squeeze even tighter. Jay let’s out a choked gasp, desperately searching for air.

And then they’re rounding an SUV, placing the hulking body of the vehicle between them and the young cop who is advancing slowly, continuing to shout for the man to release him and put his weapon down.

The back door is opened and Jay is shoved into the vehicle, barely getting the chance to pull his legs in before the door is slammed closed.

He hears a few shots fired off, either from the cop or his abductor.

Shit.

He’s being abducted.

He forces his right hand to move, reaching across himself and toward the door handle.

But it doesn’t budge. The man must have turned the child locks on.

Another door slams somewhere ahead of him and then the engine is roaring to life.

He’s shoved back against the seat, right hand falling uselessly over the edge of it as the car speeds off.

He needs to try to sit up, to get his face in view of the windows so that he can try to attract attention instead of lying pathetically on his side.

He somehow gets his right arm underneath him, starting to push up.

His shoulder scream in agony, barely supporting his weight.

The car flies through a left hand turn, throwing his weight and more harshly onto his injured arm and it gives out, sending him crashing back to the seat.

He screams, his trapped hand pressing harder into the injury as he closes his eyes.

“Shut up!” the man driving shouts over the seat.

“Fuck you!” Jay shouts back, kicking at the door.

The car slams to an abrupt halt and the man leans back over the seat, pointing the gun directly at his face.

Mark Tremon.

Well isn’t that just the whipped cream on this shitty cow pie.

“Look,” he says, taking a deep breath. “I talked to my boss and he’s agreed to release a statement that you weren’t the bomber.”

It’s true. Voight had agreed to it but it won’t be much and will probably fly under the radar for most everybody.

“Too little too late.” he growls, shaking the gun. “We’ll be there soon, stay quiet until then or I’ll put a bullet in your brain.”

A horn honks nearby and the man turns around, starting the car moving forward again.

Jay falls back against the seat.

The door is locked and with only about half an arm he can’t throw himself over the seats and force Mark off the road.

All he can do at the moment is wait. Either he’ll get a better opportunity or his team will find him.

The patrol officer had radioed for backup and he hopes she’d gotten a decent description of the SUV out so that every cop in the city is looking for him right now.

He closes his eyes, pressing the rag tighter into his shoulder.

But the lights and sirens that he’d been expecting never come. He doesn’t know how much time passes before the car is coming to a stop and he opens his eyes to see darkness and the beam of harsh, artificial light.

The door is pulled open and he doesn’t hesitate, kicking out with both feet as hard as he can.

Mark staggers back away from the vehicle and Jay gets his feet on the ground, struggling to his feet.

But Mark is back up against the car before he can, slamming him back into the back seat.

“Don’t you fucking mess with me.” he snarls, punching Jay in the face. “They threw a brick through my window! My kids were in the living room!”

“I’m sorry.” Jay says. “We were wrong. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry isn’t good enough!” Mark snaps, throwing another punch. “Your mistake ruined my life!”

Jay turns away from the punch, trying to get his right arm up to block his face but as soon as it lifts Mark grabs hold of it, jerking him out of the vehicle.

Jay screams again, knees buckling.

Mark’s hand slaps over his mouth, pressing his head back against the seat.

“Told you to shut up.” he tells him.

Then the roll of duct tape is back in the man’s hands and he’s smoothing a strip over Jay’s mouth, effectively silencing him before starting to wrapping the material around his right shoulder, pressing his hand and the rag tightly to the wound.

That done, he brings Jay’s right arm up across his chest, wrapping the tape in a bastardized version of a sling.

Jay reluctantly has to admit that taking the weight of his arm off his shoulder does help with the pain a little bit.

But he’s also officially lost the use of both arms and most of his ability to fight back.

And then he’s being pulled back to his feet and led across what he vaguely recognizes as a parking garage.

A vehicle switch.

The trunk of a red car pops open as they approach and Jay struggles as much as he can, trying to pull away from the man but he can’t and Mark presses his hand over his wound, digging his own hand into the injury.

His knees buckle again with a muffled cry and Mark throws him into the trunk of the car.

His head slams into something as he falls in and he never even sees the trunk lid close.

Nobody had been away from the office more than three hours before they’re all back at their desks, searching desperately for any leads as to where Mark Tremon had taken Jay.

The man hadn’t taken any measures to hide his face and it had taken less than thirty seconds to identify him using the security cameras outside the district.

The weight in the room is intense.

They’ve all watched the video of Jay’s abduction, have all seen their friend shot and then drug out of the alley at gunpoint.

Antonio is sitting at his desk, refusing to look up or talk to anybody as he goes through Mark Tremon’s phone records. Kim is sitting next to him, with the occasional worried glance at her partner as she searches the dumped gps data from the man’s phone.

He’d shut it off almost an hour before attacking Jay at the district so it won’t lead them directly to Jay. But hopefully something in the time between when he’d been released from the district and when it had gone dead will give them a lead.

Adam and Kevin have gone to talk to his wife. It won’t be an easy conversation given that even if the woman isn’t actively helping her husband, she likely also blames them for the brick that had crashed through their window frightening her children.

But her knowledge of her husband, of where he might go and of what resources he might have, might prove essential to finding Jay.

Hailey doesn’t begrudge them the assignment but part of her does wish she was outside this bullpen, where Antonio wasn’t just behind her.

She doesn’t want to be angry but she’d seen the way that his handling of the Mark Tremon situation, from start to finish, had bothered Jay.

And now those actions had resulted in her partner being abducted outside the very place where he worked.

Now, because of what Antonio had done, her partner had been shot and then drug away at gunpoint.

She takes a deep breath, trying to remind herself that she’s run with theories that ended up being wrong before.

Then she just grits her teeth and goes back to traffic cams. Mark couldn’t have taken Jay far, at least not before switching vehicles.

A flash message had gone out within minutes of the abduction with a full description of the vehicle.

And yet none of the cops that had immediately flooded the area had spotted it.

“Hey Sarge.” she says, standing up. “There’s a parking garage not far from the last sighting I can find of Tremon’s vehicle.”

“Take Al and check it out.” he orders.

“And one of his last gps hits before his phone went offline is at a drugstore in Midtown.” Kim says. “Maybe he bought a burner phone?”

“Take Antonio.” he says.

The bullpen clears out in a matter of seconds and Voight sits down at his desk.

Jay had never wanted to release that picture to the media for identification. He’d protested but Voight had approved it.

Now he just has to hope that it didn’t cost the young man his life.

Jay wakes up in a chair, or more specifically, tied to a chair.

Mark had cut the mummification off his chest while he was out cold before taping his wrists to the arms of the chair.

Tape has also been wrapped back around his shoulder, holding the rag in place.

He supposes he should be grateful, might even actually tell the man sitting across from him that he appreciates it if there wasn’t still tape over his mouth.

So instead he watches the man with narrowed eyes, waiting to see what he’s going to do.

Mark must know that his team will be looking for him. Must know that whatever precautions he’s taken, they will find him.

That his wife and kids will be joining him under the microscope until he’s found.

The man is enraged by the heat they’ve suffered and understandably so but that would have faded. An official statement from the department would have granted some grace and then soon enough the public would have forgotten about him entirely.

But now that he’s actually done something the police are going to keep the heat on.

And if he upgrades himself to cop killer, that heat will never go away.

In his anger over their actions, he’s decided to make things infinitely worse.

Jay just wishes he knew the full breadth of that decision and what it entails.

“I bet you’re wondering what my plans for you are.” Mark says and Jay just raises an eyebrow.

“I don’t need attitude from you.” Mark says angrily in response. “You ruined my life.”

Then he laughs.

“You know, until you walked out I was starting to wonder if anyone from your team was going to walk into that parking lot with no one else around tonight.” he says. “Thought I might have to come back tomorrow and try again.”

‘Glad I could be so helpful.’ Jay sasses internally. ‘Answer the damn question.’

“You’re going to die, of course.” Mark says. “Slowly, painfully.”

Jay glares back at him.

“I’ve already taken away your freedom, accosted you outside a place where you thought you were safe. Next, thought I might throw a few bricks at you.” Mark says. “Like those animals did to my children.”

He reaches behind him, hands coming back out with a brick in hand.

“Do you have any idea how scared my little girl was when it came crashing through the window?” he asks, holding it in his hand.

Then he throws the brick, something flashing in his eyes as it collides forcefully with Jay’s chest. Jay doubles forward, groaning into the gag.

“She cried for hours.” Mark growls, standing up and shoving him up against the back of the chair with a hand gripping his throat, another brick already in hand.

He crashes the brick against Jay’s bad soldier, ripping a muffled scream from his throat.

Jay doesn’t even get a chance to take in another breath before the brick is crashing into his stomach, forcing out what little air is left in his lungs.

After that it’s like Mark has lost any semblance of self control as the hits just keep coming.

When he finally steps away Jay is left to slump forward, head hanging weakly on his chest.

His head and face seem to be the only place that haven’t been bludgeoned, even his legs taking a number of hits in the man’s rage. His left wrist is broken, no doubt left from the angle that it sits at as he stares down at it through hooded eyes.

But there’s nothing else that he’s sure about right now other than the fact that everything hurts. That he wants to go home.

Mark grabs ahold of his hair, jerking his head back again.

“How do you feel right now, buddy?” he jeers, face twisted in rage.

Jay blinks, vision unfocused as he tries to look back at the man.

“I’m gonna take that as not very good.” Mark says, releasing his hair with a laugh.

“What else is left on the program?” Mark asks, pacing around in front of him. “Thrown a brick at you, deprived you of your freedom, took away your sense of safety, hmmmmmm what does that leave?”

Jay shakes his head weakly, the motion damaged by the way he can’t even lift his head.

“Oh right.” Mark says. “I just have to rip you to shreds. Sorry I don’t have the patience to do it online.”

Jay closes his eyes.

And then Mark’s hand is closing around his throat, pushing him up against the back of the chair again as he waves a weird ass pair of scissors in his face.

“These are herb scissors.” Mark tells him. “My wife uses them, usually to cut green onions or leafy greens up quickly. But they’ll do quite nicely to speed up cutting you up too.”

Jay struggles, trying to push the man away but falling still as the man’s hand tightens around his throat.

Mark opens up the scissors, holding them in front of Jay’s face to make sure that he can see it. And then they drop from view.

A moment later, he feels them biting into his skin and then the blade is dragging painfully across his chest.

But Mark doesn’t stop at one cut, continuing to leave multiple wound tracks across Jay’s chest.

Or to use the man’s own words, ‘ripping him to shreds’.

He blacks out at some point and wakes up to Mark slapping him hard across the face.

“No blacking out on me here, buddy.” Mark scolds. “We’re almost done here.”

Jay groans, blinking his eyes open.

Mark makes a few more slices across his chest but Jay’s having trouble staying conscious and the man has to slap him awake several more times.

Finally, Jay hears the sound of the scissors clattering to the floor.

“Almost done, buddy.” he says, waving the brick in Jay’s face. “Just. one. final. brick.”

Jay stares angrily back at him, a rush of adrenaline and anger giving him the strength to stay awake.

“CPD Freeze!”

Hailey.

The shout is echoed by others, other shouts, other voices.

Mark’s hand tightens around Jay’s throat and the hand holding the brick is shaking over his head.

“I could still kill you.” he hisses.

Then a gun is pressing against the back of the man’s head.

“Put the brick down, asshole.” Antonio growls.

“Look who it is.” Mark growls.

“I’m sorry for what we did to you.” Antonio says. “You didn’t deserve the heat we brought on you and your family. But that doesn’t make this okay.”

“Seems pretty justified to me.” Mark says.

“Well how about this?” Antonio tosses back. “Jay here is the only one who stood up for you. He was pissed when I suggested giving that picture to the media and never stopped trying to convince me to lay off you. So whatever you think you’re justified in, you picked the wrong guy. Now put the damn brick down.”

A sea of emotions flash in Mark’s eyes as he opens both of his hands, letting the brick fall to the ground and releasing Jay’s throat, allowing his head to tip forward.

Antonio cuffs him and leads him away and then Hailey is there, putting her hand on his cheek and gently lifting his head back up. Her free hand comes up to peal the tape away from his mouth.

“Easy partner.” she soothes. “Medics are coming, just hang in there for me, okay?”

“T’rd.” he whispers.

“I know.” she soothes. “Just stay awake a little bit longer, okay?”

He nods slowly.

His eyes stay open while they wait for the paramedics but saying that he stays awake is probably a bit of a stretch.

They don’t waste time, quickly getting him on their stretcher and starting an IV before starting their treatment as they push it back toward the exit.

Hailey walks along side, keeping her hand on his shoulder.

She can hear the rest of the team moving about, but she doesn’t care about that as she sticks close to her partner, jumping up into the ambulance next to him.

Will meets them at Med, taking over the care and fussing over his little brother as she reluctantly falls back, sitting in the waiting area.

The rest of the team trickles in though Voight and Antonio are busy following up on the lead that she’d come up with on getting access to Lehr’s records while they’d been hunting for Jay.

Which is good because, his apology to both Jay and Mark aside, she still isn’t sure that she’s ready to forgive Antonio for the way that he’d treated Jay all day.

It’s only a few hours before Will comes out looking tired but relieved.

“He’s going to be okay.” he announces. “The bullet wound is a through and through, cleaned out with no signs of infection and a few stitches. His left wrist is broken but somehow that’s the only bones that actually got broken in the beating that he took but he’s bruised to hell.”

“And the cuts?” Hailey asks.

“Poor guy is gonna have to be put under general anesthesia to give them time to stitch everything up but again, nothing serious damaged and no signs of infection.” Will tells her. “Unfortunately it’s not urgent and the ORs are all booked solid for the next couple of hours. You can go sit with him while he waits if you’d like.”

Hailey doesn’t need to be told twice, immediately hurrying in the direction that Will had come from, leaving the doctor to a slight jog in order to catch up with her.

“He’s been sleeping pretty consistently.” he tells her. “But he’s stable and it’s nothing to worry about. Just all the stress on his body coupled with the pain meds that he’s on.”

She slows for the first time, glancing over at him in concern.

“He’s going to be okay.” he reminds her. “But asleep or not, I think he’d appreciate the company.”

She nods, forcing a smile and resumes her path, stepping into the room. Jay’s eyes blink open as she steps into the room and she hurries over, reaching for his hand and pulling back.

Between the brace on his left forearm and the IV in the back of his right hand, there isn’t really a hand that she can hold.

“Will says you’re going to pull through.” she says.

“N’gettin rid o’me tt’easy.” he says.

“Good.” she says, reaching over to adjust the oxygen mask on his face. “Need me to go put a bullet in someone waiting for surgery so we can bump you up on the list?”

He huffs a small laugh, face tightening in pain.

“M’good.” he tells her and she puts her hand on his upper arm.

“Alright.” she says. “Why don’t you go back to sleep?”

“Stay?” he whispers.

“Of course.” she promises. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Chapter Text

It doesn’t take long to become apparent that they aren’t going to get their containment.

Jay doesn’t know much of what’s going on with Adam and Officer Werner but clearly its bigger than he’d thought because patrol should be responding and the radio is painfully silent.

So the Intelligence unit are left moving forward on their own, trying to keep up with the fleeing offender who is taking potshots at them as they run.

This investigation has been tricky enough without their first decent lead getting away because patrol officers are being petty.

But he can’t deal with that right now so he forces the frustration aside and focuses on the situation at hand, calling out instructions to his team and continuing to radio updates to dispatch.

And then it’s his turn to duck out of cover and drive forward, weapon at the ready.

Which is when their suspect sticks his arm out from behind the dumpster that he’s hiding behind and fires off three quick rounds.

One shoots past the side of Jay’s head but the other two make contact.

Jay hits the ground, rolling to get out of the line of fire as both hands find their way to his stomach, pressing hard and letting out a groan.

And then Hailey is at his side, her hand pressing hard into his shoulder while she talks rapidly into her radio.

“5021 Henry, 10-1 shots fired at the police. I have an officer down, need an ambulance my location.”

Her hand moves away from the radio and rests on the side of his face.

“Hey.” she says. “Stay with me, partner.”

“I’m fine.” he groans. “That bastard shot me, Hailey.”

“I know.” she says. “And you’re very not fine, you idiot.”

“Why am I hauling around this stupid sweaty bullet proof vest?” he whines and she laughs.

“You say that like you didn’t move just so that the bullets would miss the vest.” she scolds him lightly.

“Damn.” he says. “You figured me out.”

The rest of the team joins them.

“There’s a tunnel leading out of the alley.” Kim says. “Bastard’s in the wind.”

“He okay?” Adam asks, face twisting with guilt.

“‘m fine.” Jay says, trying to sit up.

“Will you stay down.” Hailey snaps.

He stops moving, the hand that he’d moved to try to push himself up with coming back to press against his stomach.

“I’ll show the paramedics in.” Adam says, shuffling off toward the opening of the alley.

“Where the hell was patrol?” Kevin grumbles. “Guy woulda been in custody before this happened if we’d had decent containment.”

“I think this has something to do with Werner.” Hailey says, glaring in the direction of Adam’s retreating back. “And whatever is going on between him and Adam.”

“Don’ be so.. hard on him.” Jay says, head spinning slightly. “He didn’ …didn’…”

“Jay?” Hailey says, pressing against his shoulder. “Jay!”

His eyes slip closed, head rolling toward her.

“5021 Eddie, what’s the ETA on our ambulance?” Kim calls out.

“2 minutes.”

“Put a rush on it.” Kim replies.

“Stay with me, Jay!” Hailey begs her partner. “The bullet that his his stomach must have hit something.”

After much too long, the ambulance finally pulls up and the paramedics crash in next to Jay, almost knocking Hailey out of the way.

They are quick to start and IV, desperate to get some fluids into his system but there isn’t time to linger and they’re quick to slide the backboard under him, lifting him up to the stretcher and racing out of the alley.

Voight meets them at Med, arriving just in time to see Jay raced through the Emergency Department on his way to surgery.

“What the hell happened out there?” he demands.

“We showed up to talk to Owens and he fled.” Hailey says. “We started to pursue, radioed the pursuit into dispatch and requested that patrol set up containment.”

“But patrol never showed up.” Kim adds. “And Owens started shooting at us. And then Jay got hit. One round caught him in the stomach below the vest and the other ended up in his upper shoulder.”

“He lost consciousness just before the paramedics got there.” Hailey says, staring in the direction her partner had disappeared in. “I don’t know what’s going on but he’s losing a lot of blood.”

Voight’s eyes narrow and he looks over at Adam who curls on himself slightly.

“Ruzek.” her boss says. “A word?”

“You got it boss.” the young officer says and Hailey almost feels bad for him as he follows their boss out of the Emergency Department.

At least she would feel bad if she wasn’t so busy being worried about her partner.

Because of something that Adam did.

Even though he never could have foreseen the consequences.

What a mess.

Adam shoves his hands into his pockets as he steps to the door.

He’s about to get an ass chewing from his boss for this whole situation. And normally, the fact that Voight is about to yell at him would bother him but today it means nothing compared to his own guilt.

Jay had been shot. Twice. Is in surgery fighting for his life. And it’s all Adam’s fault.

Kevin had warned him that he needed to toe the line, to be more careful while IA was watching so closely in the aftermath of his near imprisonment.

And he hadn’t listened to him until after he’d done something stupid, after he’d taken things too far with that junkyard owner.

And then he’d promptly brushed off the responsibility for his actions onto Officer Werner and walked away without a second question like that fixed things.

The way that patrol had responded had been inappropriate but that doesn’t change the fact that Adam had started this chain of events.

That this is all his fault.

“Just say what you need to say.” he says, looking at his feet.

“I’m not going to yell at you, Adam.” Voight says.

“What?” he asks, looking up. “But I fucked up.”

“I’m not denying that.” Voight says, shaking his head. “You need to make things right with Officer Werner. Patrol shouldn’t have done what they did and I will get to the bottom of it and make sure that someone pays for what happened today but you need to make things right.”

“Why aren’t you yelling at me?” Adam asks, looking up.

“Because you’re already beating yourself enough.” Voight says. “I know that what you’re doing to yourself is more than anything I could ever say to you.”

“Jay’s in surgery because of me.” Adam whimpers, tears running down his face. “Because of what I did. And he-he- what if he doesn’t make it?”

“Then you’re going to have to find a way to live with it.” Voight says bluntly. “I can’t fix this for you, can’t make the guilt go away.”

Adam nods shakily, choking out a sob.

“Go.” Voight orders. “Find Werner.”

“What about Jay?” Adam asks, glancing back at the doors. “What about being here, I need to be here.”

“No.” Voight says evenly. “You need to make this right and you need to do it now. We’ll keep you posted. Now go.”

Adam nods, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets and then turning to walk away.

He’ll never forgive himself if Jay doesn’t survive surgery.

Hailey looks up as Voight walks back into the Emergency Department.

Alone.

“Where’s Adam?” Kim asks.

“He needs to talk to Werner.” Voight says. “To put this to bed.”

“Now?” Kevin asks. “But Jay is-”

“He needs to do it now.” Voight cuts him off.

Silence falls over the room. Will comes racing in a few moments later, skittering as he almost runs past them and then struggles to stop in time.

“Where is he?” he demands. “Is he okay?”

“He’s still in surgery.” Kevin says when nobody else answers the man.

“What the hell happened?” Will demands. “Wasn’t he wearing his vest? Were you guys not working?”

“He was wearing his vest.” Hailey says dully. “But he’s a bullet magnet so both bullets just… went around it.”

Will makes a confused face, narrowing his eyes.

“One bullet hit his upper shoulder, just to the left of the strap to his vest.” Kim fills in. “The other went in his stomach below the vest.”

Will sighs.

“Of course they did.” he says, looking down. “I’m going to go see if I can find anything out.”

And then he’s scurrying away.

Hailey has started pacing back and forth, running her hand through her hair anxiously by the time he returns.

She’s trying not to cry but its hard.

She was right there when he was shot.

Right there.

Why couldn’t she do anything to keep it from happening? Should she have reacted faster? Should she have not waited for the ambulance?

What if she loses him without ever getting the chance to tell him how she feels?

The double doors open and Will walks through. She rushes over to him.

“Is he okay?”

“They’re closing up now.” he says. “Apparently he’s been fighting some kind of viral infection that’s caused his spleen to be enlarged which allowed the bullet to rip through his liver and into the spleen which is why there was so much blood loss.”

“An infection?” Hailey demands, scanning her memories for any sign that her partner has been sick.

“He probably didn’t even realize it.” Will tells her. “There might not have been obvious symptoms. But it’s not a problem. It shouldn’t affect his recovery much.”

“But he will recover?” Hailey presses.

“The blood loss won’t be fun.” Will says, shaking his head. “And it was dicey during surgery. But yeah. He should make a full recovery.”

Hailey nods, sniffling.

“How does he always do this?” she asks. “Wearing a top of the line bulletproof vest and he still manages to find bullets.”

“The vest catches plenty of bullets too.” Will says. “I mean remember last year. Yeah one round came in under the bottom of the vest but it was just a graze. And the other one, the one to the heart that would have killed him, the vest did it’s job then.”

Hailey goes stiff.

Jay getting shot while chasing his father’s killer isn’t something she generally let’s herself think about. Because all she can think about when she does is that moment when she’d run around the corner with Adam to see her partner lying on the ground.

The moment when she’d thought he was dead.

“Yeah.” she admits. “Yeah, it did it’s job then.”

“He’s going to be okay.” Will assures her. “You and I can scold him about getting himself shot again.”

“I don’t need to scold him.” Hailey says. “I just need him to be okay.”

“Finally going to tell him?” Will asks.

“Tell him what?” she asks.

He just raises an eyebrow at her.

“Okay fine.” she grumbles. “Maybe.”

“Well while you figure it out, they’re getting him settled in a room. Why don’t we go see him?” Will asks.

She nods and glances back at the team.

“Go see your partner.” Voight encourages. “I have to go talk to Trudy about our patrol problem.”

“And we should probably head back and figure out what’s going on with the case.” Kim says. “Tell him we’re thinking of him.”

Hailey nods and then follows Will down the hallway.

Hailey feels an enormous weight leave her chest as she opens the door and sees her partner.

He’s got a nasal canula under his nose and multiple IVs running into his arms but otherwise he looks like he could just be asleep.

Hailey settles into the chair next to him, taking his hand.

“Hey partner.” she says. “Thanks for staying with me.”

“C’d never le’you.” he whispers without opening his eyes. “G’where you go.”

“Yeah.” she says, squeezing his hand. “Right back at you.”

“Hails?”

“Yeah?” she says.

“D’no if is the t’m.” he says. “But I… din no if i was gon have ‘nother chance. An’ I… Hailey, I love you.”

Her jaw drops.

She hadn’t expected him to get there first.

His eyes creep open, blinking up at her.

“S’ok f’you don’ feel the same.” he says, face fallen with disappointment.

“No, Jay I-”

She’s cut off as he cries out in pain, clutching his stomach. His heart rate shoots up and his blood pressure plummets.

“Jay?” Will asks, rushing into the room. “What’s wrong?”

“Hurts.” Jay whimpers. “S’wrong.”

“Alright.” Will says, already hearing footsteps running their way. “We’ll figure it out, kiddo. Just hang in there.

Dr. Marcel hurries into the room.

“Severe stomach pain, blood pressure is dropping.” Will reports. “I think his spleen might have ruptured.”

“I think you’re right.” Marcel says. “We need to get him back in.”

Nurses flood the room and before Hailey knows it, they’re wheeling Jay back through the door.

She sits on the floor.

“I love you too.” she whispers, letting her face fall into her hands.

She’s still sitting on the floor, dried tears on her cheeks, when they wheel the bed back into the room.

Jay is somehow even more pale than when he’d been taken away but he’s still alive, the heart monitor beating steadily in testament to that fact.

“He’s down another organ.” Will says, stepping in behind them. “Already lost his appendix as a teenager and now they’ve had to remove his spleen.”

“It did rupture then?” she asks.

“Yes.” he confirms. “Lost even more blood to the internal hemorrhaging. They’ve started antibiotics to combat the possibility of infection. And he’ll have to take them daily for at least the next couple of years.”

“Damn.” Hailey mutters. “But he’ll still going to be okay, right?”

“He’s going to be fine.” Will promises her. “He should wake up again any time now.”

She nods, wiping away her tears and taking her partner’s hand again.

“I’m here Jay.” she tells him. “I’m here and I’d really like to continue that discussion that we were having. But wake up whenever you’re ready.”

She hears something at the doorway and turns to see Adam standing there, shuffling his feet.

“Is he…?” he asks, trailing off.

“He’s going to be fine.” she says, waving him in.

“I uh, I talked to Werner.” he says, coming forward a few steps. “This shit has been settled and, uh, it won’t happen again.”

She nods.

It never should have happened in the first place but that’s not all on Adam and she knows he’s already blaming himself so she won’t heap on anymore.

“Will says he should be awake any time now.” she tells him. “If you wanted to talk to him.”

He looks like he’d really rather not but he grits his teeth and nods.

“He doesn’t blame you.” she says gently. “He wants to see you.”

“S’okay, Adam.” Jay whispers and she looks over to see his eyes still closed again.

She idly wonders if he does it in the mornings as well or if it’s exclusive to hospital visits.

“I’m still sorry.” Adam says. “I never meant for any of this to happen.”

“Already knew you don’t play nicely with the other kids.” Jay mutters with a grin. “Still like you, for some reason.”

Adam chuckles.

“Appreciate it, man.” he says with a grin. “It’s good to see that you’re doing okay. I’ll uh, leave and let you rest.”

“Bye Adam.” Jay and Hailey say in unison, not even noticing the slight smirk on his face as he leaves.

“So.” Hailey says, trying to repress a smile. “We were discussing something pretty important before your little stomachache.”

He opens his eyes, raising a single eyebrow.

“I love you too.” she says. “I have for a long time. I was just so scared to admit it. But you’re right. I almost lost you and I… I don’t want to hide from this anymore.”

“I don’t either.” he says. “I want to give this a try.”

“Then lets do it.” she says, squeezing his hand.

“I’m gonna need more than that.” he says with a smirk. “And I can’t exactly sit up right now so….”

Her smile widens and she leans down, pressing her lips to his.

Chapter Text

Hailey watches the tension ratchet up as Malik finds out about his brother’s death and is very quickly set off by the smirk on Dexter’s face.

Leans forward as Malik surges toward the man, a gun quickly flying into Dexter’s hand even as her partner dives between the two of them.

“Woah, woah.” Adam says. “We’ve got a gun. Gun. Gun. Gun!”

“Move in. Now.” Voight orders, shifting their car into gear.

“Go, go, go.” Adam says as he and Kev lurch around the fence they’re crouched behind.

Dexter goes still as Voight pulls to a stop, Hailey jumping out of the passenger seat with a shout of Chicago PD but instead of turning toward them as she’d expected, he presses his gun into the back of Jay’s neck, grabbing his collar and jerking him around to face them.

“Stay back.” he shouts, Wes and Malik moving to tuck themselves behind the pair.

The blue van speeds away and she hears Voight radioing to Kim and Antonio to apprehend them but her eyes are focused on her partner.

Jay’s head has been pushed forward but she can see the tension in his jaw, the frustration with letting himself be grabbed like this.

“What the hell are you doing, man?” Jay says.

“You think I believe the fact that the police showed up at a meet that nobody except me, Denny, and my newest friend knew about is a coincidence?” Dexter growls, hand twisting tighter in Jay’s collar.

“What about your fucking buyers?” Jay scoffs. “Ya know, the guys you’ve just turned your back to?”

When Dexter doesn’t respond, ignoring him to instruct Wes to take Jay’s weapon, her partner presses.

“One of whom tried to attack you a minute ago?”

“Enemy of my enemy and all that.” Dexter says. “Now shut the fuck up.”

He turns his attention to her and Voight.

“The four of us are going to be leaving now.” he announces loudly. “And maybe, when Denny catches up to us with my merchandise, your man here will live to tell the tale.”

“Just let him go, Dexter.” Voight says harshly. “We can make some kind of a deal.”

“I already told you what that deal was going to be, pig.” Dexter snarls. “Wes, why don’t you drive? Keys are still in the ignition.”

“Sounds good, bro.” Wes says, the entire group moving forward to keep the man covered as he climbs behind the wheel.

“No way, man.” Malik protests. “He killed my brother.”

“Fucking idiot.” Wes snarls and then Malik is bodily thrown around Jay, stumbling toward them and dropping down on his hands and knees. “That bastard is all yours, copper. Ain’t been nothing but trouble from the start.”

They ignore the punk as Wes gets into the car, starting the engine. Dexter drags Jay into the backseat, the gun never wavering from where it’s still pressed against the back of his neck.

None of them dare move as Wes pulls away, driving into the distance, though Kevin does step forward once it turns a corner, dragging Malik to his feet and cuffing him.

The punk is spewing hate, cursing Kevin out for being a cop and demanding to know who killed his brother.

“You did.” Kevin snarls, opening a door and shoving him into the backseat.

He’s slammed the door closed before Malik can say anything else, turning to Voight.

“What now, Sarge?” he asks.

The radio squawks before anyone can answer him, Adam reporting in.

“Weapons are secure. Offender is DOA.”

“So much for Denny catching up to them with the merchandise.” Hailey says drily.

Dexter keeps the gun on him long enough to get out of sight of his team before he shoves Jay across the seat.

He still has the gun in hand, plus Wes is still carrying the gun he’d taken from Jay and probably one of his own so Jay won’t try anything just yet.

How long has Dexter had doubts about him? Because it doesn’t make sense for the man to turn on a dime like that, putting a gun to the head of his own associate the second that the police showed up, unless he was already questioning Jay’s loyalty.

And he knows that everything with Malik and Nate had cast a shadow on everything but he’s still kicking himself for underestimating how suspicious Dexter is.

It isn’t long before Dexter directs Wes to pull into an alley, getting the car off the road and out of sight.

The man drags Jay out of the car, kicking his knees out from under him.

“You got a plan here?” Wes says. “Cause the way I see it, the cops have seen me, got me tied to this.”

“Kept you from getting arrested, didn’t I?” Dexter scowls. “I’m thinking we get your guns back and the two of us go our separate ways, get the hell out of dodge.”

“And the cop?” Wes asks.

“Keep him alive as leverage until we gets the guns.” Dexter says. “Then we take out the trash.”

“I don’t like this.” Wes says. “I say we cut our losses now.”

“Yeah.” Dexter demands. “I’ll just take the cash then, pay off my suppliers. I was trying to play nice, help you get your merchandise but if you think that’s too risky…”

“Or you could work with my guys.” Jay says, suppressing a flinch as both men whirl on him with weapons in hand.

“I told you to shut up.” Dexter growls, glancing at Wes. “I think we can agree that the first step is to tie this bastard up, make sure he doesn’t run off and bring his friends down on us.”

Wes nods.

“You got rope or something in the car?”

“Should be some duct tape in the back.” Dexter confirms.

Wes pops the back hatch, finding the duct tape and then approaching Jay.

With Dexter’s gun still pointed directly at his head, he has no choice but to allow himself to be pushed forward, lying on his stomach and letting Wes jerk his arms up behind his back.

“Should search him too.” Dexter says after his wrists have been bound. “Probably got a wire.”

Jay grits his teeth but doesn’t move, much, as he’s patted down, the man removing his phone, keys, and wallet.

The transmitter is embedded in the fob of the car keys but he’s not about to tell them that.

“They’ll be moving in.” Wes says. “Now that they’re losing gps.”

“Let’s get out of here.” Dexter agrees and Jay is drug back to his feet.

He’s thrown into the backseat again, Wes climbing in next to him this time as Dexter gets behind the wheel.

Dexter’s phone rings as they pull away and he answers it.

“This isn’t a negotiation, Sargeant.” he growls after a moment. “Either you hand over my weapons or I put a bullet in your boy’s head. You have an hour, if I haven’t heard from Denny by then-”

He cuts off, an enraged growl sounding at the back of his throat.

“What do you mean, Denny’s dead?” he demands.

Jay’s stomach flips.

“Then I think we’ve got ourselves a problem, Sergeant.” Dexter growls, glancing over the seat at Jay. “But fortunately for you, this deal means enough to me that I’m willing to work through that problem.”

Jay opens his mouth to offer a solution but Wes abruptly reaches out, grabbing his hair and using it to slam his head against the window.

The glass cracks under the force and Jay can’t contain the startled cry of pain that escapes him.

He can hear Voight call out his name but before he can even try to respond, Wes presses duct tape over his mouth.

“Douglas Park.” Dexter snaps. “Thirty minutes.”

He hangs up the phone, throwing it across the seat.

“We’ll need to get you another car.” he says tersely after a moment. “You’ll pick up the weapons and I’ll stay with this one elsewhere to make sure they don’t try anything. Tell them that once you’re clear, I’ll let them know where they can pick him up.”

“You expect me to take all the risk.” Wes scoffs.

“You want the weapons.” Dexter says.

“This whole mess is happening because you let a cop infiltrate your organization.” Wes snaps.

“You don’t think I saw your man Lamar wearing a tactical vest out there?” Dexter snaps. “We both got played here.”

“I’m not going to be the only one taking a risk while you ride off into the sunset with my money.” Wes scowls.

Dexter points his gun over the seat.

“That’s your choice.” he says, finger already compressing on the trigger. “But that puts us at the end of the road.”

Jay flinches against the door as the gun goes off, Wes getting the door open at the last second and throwing himself out of the car and out of the path of the bullet.

He doesn’t stand a chance out in the open, not with his hands bound and a concussion, so he stays in the car.

Sits there and watches Dexter scramble out of the car to chase after Wes.

His only chance is to let them take each other out, to hope that whichever of them wins will at least be softened up enough that he can win the fight when they come back for him.

More shots ring out and he twists his hands against the tape, trying to pull free.

Then silence falls.

He hears the latch click behind him and spins. The door opens and he kicks out, impacting the hand with the gun and sending it flying across the ground.

Then he lunges out of the car, ramming his head against his attacker’s.

They crash to the ground, Jay struggling to pin the man with his legs. Something slams into his abdomen, pain exploding through his core.

He rolls away, screaming into the gag as the knife is ripped free but grits his teeth, rolling again.

His fingers make contact with something metal and he wraps his hands around the gun, rolling again and twisting to look over his shoulder.

Wes is coming at him and he barely wastes a second lining up the sights before he fires.

Once. Twice. Three rounds slam into the man’s chest before he goes down. Jay rolls away as the man falls, narrowly missing being crushed.

His head is pounding, pain pulsing through his entire body from his stomach but he can’t afford to rest yet.

Forcing himself partially upright, he scans the dusty lot.

Ignoring the shocking amount of blood coating the ground, he spots the knife and crawls awkwardly toward it.

He nearly blacks out several times before he reaches it but he gets there, cutting his hands free and cutting himself as his hand trembles.

Hands free, he struggles out of his jacket, balling the fabric up and pressing it against his stomach.

He needs backup, needs his team, needs… needs to get to Wes and his phone.

Shit.

Swallowing hard, he drags himself back toward the man’s body.

He actually does black out this time, waking up on the ground with the pain in his stomach starting to fade and the distinct sense that that’s a bad sign.

He makes his way the rest of the way to Wes, patting the man down until he finds the phone tucked in his back pocket.

Using Wes’ thumb to unlock it, he opens the contacts and searches for Lamar.

As the phone rings, he lets his head fall to the ground.

“They’re ten minutes late, bro.” Kevin says, scanning the park in front of them.

“They’re winging it.” Adam says. “Maybe it’s taking longer to put pieces in play than he thought.”

“I dunno.” Kevin says. “Something doesn’t feel right.”

“Wha-”

Adam cuts off as Kevin’s phone rings.

“It’s Wes.” he says, hurrying to answer it. “Yo man-”

“Kev.”

“Jay?”

“Can… track…?”

“Done.” Kevin tells him. “We’ll get you help, bro, just hang with me, okay?”

Adam dives for his phone.

“I need an emergency ping.” he snaps. “Officer down, location unknown.”

“Adam’s getting your location now.” Kevin tells Jay. “Help’s coming. Where you hurt, man?”

“Stomach.” Jay says breathlessly. “Head.”

“Wes?” Kevin asks, hearing Adam pass the information on. “Dexter? Are they still…”

“Dead.” Jay says. “Fought.”

“Alright.” Kevin says. “Alright, that’s good then.”

“Two minutes.” Adam says and Kevin sighs.

“Hear that, bro?” he says. “Help’s almost there. Just hang in there, huh?”

“m’sorry.” Jay whispers.

“For what?” Kevin asks.

“Shebazz.” Jay breathes. “Know you… didn’t wannit t’ end that way.”

“That wasn’t your fault, man.” Kevin says. “Malik and Nate started something there was no way for us to curtail without risking losing those weapons.”

Jay doesn’t respond.

“Jay?” Kevin says, glancing worriedly at Adam.

Adam lifts up his radio.

“Hey Sarge, Kev has Jay on the phone, ran an emergency ping. EMS and patrol units are almost there.”

There’s a beat of silence, their boss probably annoyed with the delayed notification, but Voight doesn’t say anything about it.

“OEMC give you an address?”

Adam relays the address, glancing over at his partner.

“Kev’s still got him on the line.” he says. “But he’s not responding anymore.”

“Keep trying.” Voight orders.

They’re already loading her partner into the ambulance when Voight pulls up and Hailey bails out of the car, running over to them.

Jay’s eyes are closed, head lolling limply to the side.

The paramedics are talking fast and moving faster but they don’t stop her as she jumps up next to him.

She may not know exactly what she’s looking at but she knows his vitals aren’t good, can tell that he’s already lost too much blood.

Her hand closes around his.

“Hang on, Jay.” she begs. “Just hang on.”

She ignores the monitors, focusing her attention so completely on his face that she doesn’t even notice that the ambulance has stopped until he’s being pulled away from her.

She climbs down after him but it isn’t long before people are getting between them, pushing her back as he’s wheeled directly toward the elevator.

She’s left running a hand through her hair and staring after them.

The rest of the team slowly filters in, Adam apologizing to Voight for the delay in updating him but just getting waved off.

Getting the ball rolling on getting paramedics to Jay was more important than keeping him updated.

With that settled, they fall into a tense silence, waiting for news.

It’s over four hours before Will steps through the doors, running a hand through his hair.

“He made it through surgery.” he announces. “But he’s still critical. We’ll uh, we’ll know more in twenty four hours.”

Hailey drops her head to her knees.

This wasn’t how she’d imagined today going.

That damn beeping drives him nuts.

As if it isn’t sucky enough being in the hospital, waking up to that background sound just makes it even worse.

Something squeezes around his hand.

“Jay?” a soft voice says. “You with us?”

“Will?” he croaks.

“I’m here, little brother.” his brother says. “Can you open your eyes?”

It isn’t easy but he manages it, the room swimming a couple of times before coming into focus.

A head of blonde hair is resting against his leg and he smiles before looking back at his brother.

“Hey.” he whispers.

“Hey.” Will responds. “How do you feel?”

“Head hurts.”

“Yeah.” Will nods. “You’ve got a pretty ugly concussion. How about your stomach?”

“Tight.”

“Need more meds?”

“I’m okay.” Jay insists. “She been there long?”

“Hasn’t left since they let her come back.” Will says with a grin. “I got her a recliner and everything but it was too far away from you so…”

“She’s gonna hurt her neck.” Jay protests.

“Maybe you can convince her yourself.” Will says as Hailey stirs.

“Hails.” Jay breathes, nudging her with his knee.

She bolts upright, staring at him with bright eyes.

“Jay?” she asks.

“I’m gonna be okay.” he says. “But your neck’s not gonna be if you keep sleeping like that.”

She laughs tearfully.

“Pretty sure you’re not supposed to be worried about me right now.” she says, shaking her head.

“Can’t help it.” he says. “Please, Hails.”

“Will you take more pain meds if I agree to move to the recliner?” she asks.

“Deal.” he agrees, nodding to his brother who leaves the room, squeezing Hailey’s shoulder on his way past.

Ten minutes later, Jay is better medicated and Hailey is settling into the recliner with the blanket that Will has got her.

“Night partner.” Jay breathes, eyes slipping closed.

"Night Jay."

Chapter Text

He sends him around back while they assess the front door.

Covering all of their angles and fighting to get containment the best they can.

He’s done it a hundred times and it’s pretty common for it to be Halstead.

The kid thinks on his feet, handles unexpected turns.

But even he hadn’t seen this coming.

He’s crouched off to the side, watching Ruzek adjust the camera and analyze the setup of the shotgun that he’d identified on the other side of the door.

The radio keys

“Back door’s clear.” Jay announces.

“Stand down.” he orders. “Nobody goes til I say so.”

“Copy that, Sarge.”

A deafening blast fills the air and it takes him a minute to realize that it wasn’t Ruzek somehow triggering the shotgun.

“Halstead, you good?”

The quick response that he expects doesn’t come.

“Halstead!” he repeats, motioning the team around back.

Ruzek practically has to dive back to avoid the van that races around the corner of the building as they reach it.

“10-1, 10-1.” he radios. “Possible officer abduction in process. All units be on the lookout for a grey Ford Transit van, plate number 1 Sierra Charlie 2 Romeo 6.”

Dropping the radio, he shouts instructions to the team, ordering Ruzek and Atwater to check the rear of the building and sending the others toward the vehicles.

They aren’t fast enough.

Even with the extra eyes of patrol officers all over the city, the van vanishes without a trace.

Voight calls Adam.

“Tell Dwyer to find a way through that damn door. I want to know what’s in that bike shop.”

The coroner is on the way by the time he pulls up back in front of the shop.

Adam comes out to meet him.

“Travis Webber isn’t our guy.” he announces. “Found his body when we got inside. Dwyer is going over the back door. Shot gun blasted through the middle. No blood though so Jay must have caught it center mass and his vest took it all. Even if he managed not to black out it would have stunned him enough for the guy to get him in the van.”

“We know how he triggered it?” Voight asks, feeling pissed off.

He’d told Halstead to stand down.

“I don’t think he did, Hank.” Sgt. Dwyer says as he comes around the building.

“What do you mean?” Voight demands.

“I’ve a got a radio receiver on this one.” Dwyer explains. “Our guy must have been watching. Waited for Halstead to move where he wanted him and then triggered it himself.”

Damn it.

Now he can’t even use being pissed off at the kid to distract himself from worrying.

A shotgun blast to the chest hurts, vest or not.

Jay groans, eyes blinking open.

He’s sitting in a chair, wrists duct taped to the arm rests.

He tries to move but the tape isn’t budging. Twisting his legs reveals that they’ve been secured as well.

A man with a buzz cut is bent low, using more tape to strap his upper legs to the seat of the chair.

“Who the hell are you?” he growls. “What do you want?”

“It doesn’t matter.” the jerk says, rising up and leaning forward to wrap more tape around his abdomen.

He headbutts him, sending him skidding across the floor.

But it’s useless.

No matter how he twists them, too many layers of tape pin his wrists in place and he’s still trapped when Buzz stumbles upright and punches him hard in the face, snapping his head back.

Just as helpless to stop or defend himself from the series of follow-up blows that rain down.

Then Buzz composes himself, going back to restraining him and leaving him to catch his breath.

He can taste copper, can feel sticky blood running down his face but he doesn’t think he’d sustained any serious injuries from the beating.

Certainly not anything that measures up to what he suspects are broken ribs from the shotgun.

Buzz wraps tape around his upper torso, pulling it tight and putting painful pressure on said broken ribs.

Jay can’t quite stop the groan that breaks free.

“Teach you to fuck with me, asshole.” Buzz snarls, his bleeding lip curling.

“What do you want?” Jay repeats.

“The world turned on me.” Buzz says, turning to dig through a box. “And now they’ll pay for it.”

He turns back and Jay’s stomach drops as he recognizes what he’s holding.

Three blocks of C4.

The van is still in the wind leaving them stuck pursuing other leads on their shooter in hopes that it will lead them to Jay.

Thankfully, Kim is stable and the doctors at Med are confident that she’s going to pull through.

Which leaves only one of his people’s lives hanging in the balance.

Their second DOA, Travis Webber has a link to the first body. His father is a professor at the Central Chicago University where Luthor Markov had once been the Dean of Psychology.

When they’d gone by the school, hoping to talk to him, the man had come up missing but talking to one of his teaching assistants had given them a likely name for their perp.

Spencer York had made it all the way to his doctoral dissertation before suffering a psychotic break.

And it seems that he blames Isaac Webber for not supporting him.

So he’s sent Erin, Antonio, Adam and Roman to York’s apartment hoping that they’ll find him there.

Hoping that they’ll find something that leads them to Halstead before it’s too late.

Adam paces back and forth as the phone rings.

After he’d lost his cool with Roman, Antonio had told him to update Voight on the situation.

Told him to take a breath.

“Voight.”

“York’s apartment was rigged, boss.” he says. “Nobody else was injured but bomb squad is gonna have to clear it before we can get in to search what’s left.”

Voight growls and Adam sighs.

Another explosion was the last thing they needed right now. They need answers.

And Jay might well be running out of time.

“It was a small-scale explosion.” he explains. “All flash and no substance. We should be in soon enough and hopefully we’ll find something that tells us what he’s planning. Where Jay is.”

“We need this guy off the streets, Ruzek.” Voight says darkly and he nods, running a hand through his hair.

Before he can say anything, he spots someone moving through the crowd.

“Hold that thought, boss.” he says, lowering the phone and motioning Erin over.

York tries to run but he doesn’t make it far.

As Erin and Antonio get him cuffed and searched, Adam steps back.

“We’ve got York, boss.” he says into the still active phone line. “Trying to blend into the crowd.”

“Get him back here.” Voight snarls. “I want his ass in the cage. Now.”

Voight stands in the front of the chain link, staring at Spencer York who just stares back at him.

They’d found blood on his knuckles while he was being processed. The lab is still testing it but Voight’s gut says that it’s Jay’s.

But Spencer isn’t talking.

At least not anything that makes any sense.

Al, Roman and Antonio are back at his apartment, sorting through the charred remains of a home office.

Erin and Kevin are working other angles in the bullpen.

He’d sent Adam back to the hospital.

Erin comes down the stairs with a slip of paper in hand. They’d taken it from York earlier, a phone number written across it.

But they’ve yet to figure out what it means.

“I tried calling it.” she says, shaking her head. “It connected but just… dead air.”

“We’re not getting anything from him.” Voight says, stepping back.

His phone rings.

“Al?”

“We need to get back to the bike shop.” his best friend snaps out.

“Why?” he asks, motioning for Erin to get Kevin down here.

“York had blueprints for the place.” Al explains. “Complete with a bomb shelter underneath it.”

Jay was never in that van.

He’d never left the bike shop.

“We’ll meet you there.” he growls. “Get Dwyer en-route.”

Erin and Kevin come running down the stairs but he’s already running for his SUV.

He hears a metal door screeching open somewhere nearby but can’t seem to lift his head from where it rests against his chest.

Buzz had thrown a few more punches; shifting broken ribs and he’s pretty sure breaking his nose, before he’d taped the C4 to his chest and something else to his back.

Five minutes, a little wiring stretched between the two and then tape pressed over Jay’s mouth and the man had left, leaving him alone in the dim light.

It’s hard to breathe.

His chest hurts, its impossible to bring air in through his mouth and airflow through his nose is disrupted by the misalignment of the bones.

He keeps choking on the blood running down the back of his throat, leaving him coughing and gasping for air.

“Jay!”

Erin?

He tries to lift his head but he’s so tired.

It had been a long couple of days, a late night rip leading into what should have been a fairly easy bust but had instead gone badly wrong.

And right as they’d finally sorted things out, tucking most of the loose ends away where they could finish dealing with them in the morning and getting ready to head out, they’d received word that Burgess had been shot.

And away they’d gone.

And now he hurts.

A gentle hand raises his head slightly, peeling the tape away from his mouth.

He’s surprised to see Voight kneeling in front of him, not Erin.

“Easy Jay.” the man soothes when he tries to talk and ends up choking on blood instead. “Just focus on breathing kid. We’ll get you sorted.”

He can hear Erin behind him, talking to someone.

“So how do we turn it off?” she’s asking.

“That’s it?” she says a moment later.

What’s it?

He tries to twist, tries to look at her but groans when it just ramps up the pain in his chest.

Then whimpers when he finds himself choking on that groan.

He can’t breathe.

“Yes you can.” Voight says and he realizes his boss has taken hold of his hand. “It’s going to be okay, Jay.”

But he can hear Erin moving, can hear her hold her breath as she reaches for something on his chest.

Cracks his eyes open to see Voight watching her with bated breath.

He doesn’t really want them to be blown up over him.

Yank.

Tap.

He hears the sigh of relief from both of them.

Finds himself following suit and then coughing, choking and gasping for breath as his body doesn’t take it well.

“Jay?” Voight says. “Kid you’re okay, just try to breathe, get the medics in here. Now!”

Erin follows the stretcher as they race Jay toward the ambulance.

She’d triggered the bomb by calling that number. Had started the timer and if Al hadn’t found those blueprints when he did she might have blown her own partner up.

Jay’s still conscious as they fly along, clinging desperately to Voight’s hand as if that alone will keep him breathing.

An oxygen mask is strapped over his face and it seems to be helping but the paramedics are worried.

His nose is badly broken and it’s compromised his airway, some internal source of bleeding sending a certain amount of blood down his throat and making it even harder for him to breathe.

The possibility of intubation, inserting a tube to secure the airway and bypass the blood, has been suggested but they haven’t gone for it yet.

Voight glances at her as they get ready to lift him into the back of the ambulance, nodding and starting to step back.

Ready to cede his position to let her ride with her partner.

But Jay’s grip on his hand only tightens as he tries to let go, a small, terrified sound escaping his throat.

“Erin’s gonna stay with you.” he tries to soothe, tries to loosen the grip.

But if Jay’s still conscious enough to understand what’s being said, he’s not accepting it.

His grip doesn’t loosen and he just sounds more frightened.

“You go with him, Hank.” she says quietly. “He needs you right now.”

He nods, helping the paramedics lift the stretcher and then climbing up next to it.

“Easy Jay.” he soothes again. “We’ve got you. You’re going to be fine.”

Jay wakes up to an irritating medley of monitors, oxygen, and quiet voices.

He blinks his eyes open, glancing around the hospital room.

The oxygen mask nestled over his face might just be one of the worst feelings in the world but his chest still feels tight so he elects to tolerate it for the time being.

There’s a weight next to his left hand and he glances down to see his boss asleep, slumped down in the chair next to his bed with his hand resting on top of the blankets, fingers brushing lightly against the back of Jay’s hand.

“Sarge?” he wheezes, shocked by how weak his own voice sounds and by how painful it is to make such a pitiful sound.

It’s enough to wake Voight and the man quickly notices that his eyes are open, jolting upright in the chair as his hand pulls away.

“Hey kid.” he says softly. “How you feeling?”

“Hurts.” he whispers. “Kim?”

“Doing just fine.” Voight says as he reaches over to press the call button. “Might go home tomorrow. And the asshole behind this is in custody, not going anywhere. So you just rest, focus on getting better. Okay?”

He nods slightly, eyes darting around the room.

He’s exhausted. Would probably already be asleep again if it weren’t for the rapidly increasing stabbing pain lancing through his chest.

A nurse sticks her head in the door. Voight says something that he doesn’t quite catch and she hurries away.

“Easy.” he says gently, hand coming down to rest over Jay’s again. “We’ll get you taken care of, kid.”

The nurse returns with a syringe that she injects into his IV.

The effects are quick. A heavy weight settling in and quickly muting the pain.

In it’s wake he’s just tired and he feels his eyes drooping.

“Sleep, kid.” Voight urges. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He stops fighting the pull and lets himself drift off.

Voight will be here.

Chapter Text

“Hey, Halstead.”

He turns, seeing Torres pointing toward the door to the back room.

Sees the blood trail the kid has identified.

Not bad.

“On me.” he orders as he approaches the door.

Feeling Torres at his six, he pushes it open and steps into the back room.

Sees the guy bolt out the back door and gives pursuit.

Hurt or not, their perp is slippery. Jay almost loses him a couple of times before he finally manages to corner him in an alley.

Hears footsteps behind him and glances back to see Torres catching up.

Directs his attention back toward the perp.

“Put the gun down.” he orders. “You aren’t getting out of here.”

“Says you.” the punk jeers, looking past him and sizing Torres up.

“Yeah.” Jay snaps. “Says me. Put it down.”

Torres sighs.

“A year of my life. For this?”

What?

Cold metal presses against the base of his neck.

“How about you put the gun down.” Torres drawls.

“What are you doing?” Jay asks, glancing back.

“Nothing personal, Detective.” Torres says. “It’s just this dumbass is my boss’ kid. Can’t let you arrest him. Now put the gun down, nice and easy. Don’t clear it.”

The gang tats.

The cagey attitude.

Damn it.

He crouches, both guns following him down, and place his sidearm on the ground.

Torres kicks it away.

“Alex. Shoot him.” he orders.

“Huh?” the punk says. “Why me?”

“If I want to have any chance at keeping my cover they can’t trace the bullet in him back to my service weapon.”

He’s smart.

Jay has to give him that.

Alex steps forward, raising his gun to point at Jay’s face.

He hears a siren.

Close.

Feels the pressure change as Torres turns to look.

Reaches up to grab the gun.

At least he won’t go down without a fight.

He gets the gun away, knocking Torres off his feet.

Turn to Alex, who still has a weapon.

Hears the gun go off.

Feels the burn of the bullets ripping through him.

Stumbles back, falls to the ground.

“10-1, 10-1 shots fired at the police, 4th and Van Buren. Officer down, need an ambo, Now!”

Torres is back in role.

Jay needs to stay awake. Needs to tell someone what happened, that the kid can’t be trusted.

Needs…

The darkness closes in.

They’d been at the district when the first call had come in, Jay jumping on a convenience store robbery with his PPO ride along.

Amid jokes about how green ‘Ocean’ sounds and a jibe from Kim that Adam still sounds like that, Voight had told them to get to the scene to meet up with Jay in case something jumped off.

They’re still ten minutes out, Hailey in the middle of asking whether or not Kim thinks they should stop to get Jay coffee when the radio goes off again.

“10-1, 10-1 shots fired at the police, 4th and Van Buren. Officer down, need an ambo, Now!”

‘Ocean’ still sounds pretty green but he’s added downright terrified and no jokes are made.

Another cop is hurt.

And if his PPO is calling it in, there’s a good chance it’s Jay.

Hailey flips on the lights and sirens, slamming on the gas.

Kim radios that plainclothes officers are responding, reaching over the seat for their vests.

“Offender fleeing west on Van Buren.” ‘Ocean’ reports. “I need some help here!”

The area is flooded with cars when they arrive, pressing through the sea of cops.

Jay is already on the stretcher and Kim’s first thought is that it’s bad. Really bad.

He’s not moving and there is blood everywhere, blood literally spraying from underneath the hand that the paramedic has pressed against the junction between his neck and shoulder.

More blood seeping into the second bandage pressed lower on his chest.

His skin has already begun the shift toward gray and Kim knows that they need to hurry.

That he should be in surgery already.

Hailey presses up to the stretcher, every inch of her body language daring someone to try to separate her from her partner.

Her husband, Kim reminds herself.

Kim grabs ‘Ocean’, gently pulling him back and trying not to look at the blood covering his clothes.

“She’s got him.” she tells him. “What’s your name?”

They don’t even know the name of the only backup that Jay had today.

“Torres, Dante Torres.” he answers. “I… I should have been there, should have been faster.”

“Don’t do that to yourself.” she says. “Jay’s fast. None of us can keep up with him either. And shit happens. That’s the job.”

He doesn’t look convinced but she’s not surprised.

He’ll be blaming himself for this for a while. She only hopes it doesn’t end his career before it even starts.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“We responded to the robbery.” he says. “Followed a blood trail to the back room. The guy split and we chased after him. But I couldn’t keep up, just tried to follow where they were running. I heard the shot and came around the corner just in time to see Halstead hit the ground. I radioed it in, tried to help but there was so much blood. He – I –.”

“Hey,” Kim says, hands on his shoulders. “The paramedics have him. They’ll get him to Med.”

The ambulance is long gone, having raced away the moment the stretcher was inside and she hopes that everything is going okay, that Jay is hanging in there.

“Can you describe the offender?”

She feels her boss arrive as she speaks but he doesn’t say anything as Torres answers, just looms ominously.

“I didn’t really ever get a good look at him.” Torres says. “Just a profile as he bolted and then when I got here, I was distracted trying to help Halstead. But uh, male, Hispanic, mid-twenties I think. Dark hair, dark eyes, about 5’10” with a slim build wearing jeans, a blue coat and a red hat.”

“And he took off west?”

“Yeah.” he confirms. “I think he was as surprised as Halstead that he’d shot him. Just stared for a second and then took off running.”

Voight grunts.

He’s not interested in whether or not the guy had planned to shoot Jay.

The punk had dared to hurt one of his people.

Her boss will make sure that he pays for it.

The jackass should just be glad it was Jay that he’d shot.

Voight will actually let him live to spend the rest of his life in prison. Out of respect for Jay.

Unless he doesn’t make it.

That might tip the scales in favor of Voight’s need for vengeance.

Kim swallows hard.

It won’t come to that.

Jay’s going to be fine.

“Get him back to the district.” Voight orders. “If he didn’t see enough for a sketch, sit him down with the mug shots.”

“Got it.” she says, steering Torres toward Hailey’s jeep.

“Do you have a change of clothes?”

Whatever this is, Voight doesn’t have time for it.

He tolerates interruptions to his cases by the brass poorly under the best of circumstances.

These are not even remotely good circumstances.

One of his people is in surgery, fighting for his life.

And Chief Tartabull is taking him away from finding the asshole responsible.

“How much has Torres been able to tell you about the shooter?” Tartabull says the moment that Voight steps into his office.

“We’ve got a rough description but the kid says he never really got a solid look at him. They got a glance before he took off and then he was far enough behind Halstead that the guy was fleeing by the time he caught up.” Voight says. “And honestly, I’ve got more important things to worry about right now than helping judge the merit of one of your cadets.”

“Merit isn’t what I’m worried about, Hank.” Tartabull says, looking troubled.

Voight doesn’t answer, waiting for the man to say what he’s going to say.

“A week ago we got credible intelligence that a Hispanic gang managed to get a man into the academy.” he says slowly. “We were able to narrow it down to fifteen rookies -”

“Did Jay know?” Voight growls, cutting him off.

“This is Title 3 intel, Hank.” Tartabull says, looking away. “I don’t compromise federal warrants.”

“Let me get this straight.” Voight snarls. “You put Halstead out there with an armed PPO who might be working for a gang, and no heads up?”

“We didn’t think-”

He’s cut off again as Voight slams him against the wall with a hand on his throat.

“He barely made it to Med!” he shouts. “He is fighting for his life right now and you’re telling me that could have been prevented!”

“We don’t know that!” Tartabull chokes out.

Voight hears the door opening behind him and reluctantly forces himself to take a step back.

“What do you mean?”

“This could all be a coincidence.” Tartabull says, waving the new arrival off as he rubs his throat. “The plant could be someone else or the intel could be wrong entirely. This could just be another rookie having the worst first day on the streets of his life.”

Voight glares darkly.

“I’m telling you what we know now so that you can warn your team to be careful.” Tartabull continues. “And hoping that you can find the truth of it. Can tell me if this was a betrayal or just bad luck.”

Voight closes his eyes.

There will be time later to deal with Tartabull’s lack of judgement. He still needs to find the person responsible for putting his kid in surgery.

And yeah, the fact that the rookie who was supposed to be covering his six might be taking a pretty solid chunk of the responsibility sucks.

If that’s what happened, he will make sure that the punk pays for it.

But he’s going to find the asshole who pulled the trigger as well.

“Can you have the academy pull Torres in?” he asks. “I don’t care what, just… find something so I can talk to my team without him around.”

“I’ll take care of it.” Tartabull promises and Voight doesn’t trust himself to say anything else so he storms out of the office.

Torres has thankfully already left by the time he returns to the district, motioning for Trudy to follow him up the stairs.

The team reacts with anger similar to his own when he passes on the news and he lets them rage for only a moment before waving them off.

“Alright.” he says. “Let’s remember that we don’t know anything for sure, yet. This could be a rookie having the worst day of his life. We aren’t tanking his career until we know for sure. And we’ve got a shooter to find.”

“So we just keep working with the guy?” Adam demands. “Knowing that he might be the reason that Jay got shot?”

“We are.” Voight confirms. “But nobody is going anywhere with him alone. We are moving in teams of three today, all the way around. If he asks, we’re stacking things deeper because of the shooting. And you guys are on his six, not vice versa. Keep your guard up, keep your eyes open and lets find the answer to the question. Is he working with a gang or not?”

Kevin nods, letting out a breath.

“How do we tell Hailey?” Kim asks shakily.

“Let me worry about that.” he says, shaking his head.

It’s not a conversation that will go well by any measure, even if he effectively chickens out and waits until Jay is out of surgery.

A decision that also risks the possibility of pushing it until after Jay is on his way to the morgue.

No.

He can’t think like that.

Jay is going to be just fine.

“What did we get on the mug shots?” he asks Kim.

“Nothing.” she says. “Maybe he’s covering for someone, maybe he just really didn’t get a good look but he couldn’t even give me a maybe.”

“If he was dirty, wouldn’t he have given us that?” Adam asks. “A little bit of redirect to cover for his buddy?”

“He has to know to we’re going to get there.” Kevin says. “No matter how much he stonewalls us, we’ve got other witnesses. We’ve got partials on traffic cams and pod footage. Misdirection is a much better way to stall us, to get his buddy to get the hell outta dodge.”

“What are those giving us?” Voight asks, ignoring the questions.

There’s certainly room for doubt but he can feel it in his bones.

Jay may have been shot in the chest but he’d also metaphorically been stabbed in the back.

He’s just got to find a way to prove it.

“Tech is working with the footage, trying to see if they can piece those partials together to get us a face.” Kim says.

“Most of the witnesses didn’t get a great look but there’s a couple that are somewhat promising so we’ve sat them down with sketch artists to see what we get out of it.” Adam adds.

“He dropped the gun when he ran.” Kevin says. “A high-end center-fire, gas-piston carbine. Big time gun. Serial number popped. Weapon’s part of a big batch of guns that was stolen three weeks ago, smash and grab in Indiana. CPD’s been searching hard for him. Compstat says these weapons are fueling a spike in homicides. Four so far.”

“When Torres gets back, I want you and Adam to head down to guns and gangs with him. Get whatever they have on these weapons.” Voight orders. “Kim, follow up with tech and the sketch artists.”

The three officers split, heading to their desks for the time being, Kim reaching for her phone.

Trudy follows him into his office.

“I was already thinking about getting someone to cover the desk and heading down to Med.” she tells him. “Hailey could use a shoulder right now that isn’t a frazzled, red-head doctor with one too many worst case scenarios running through his head. Do you want me to tell her about Torres?”

Yes, he absolutely does.

“We all know that even you are a little afraid of Goldilocks when she’s pissed off.” Trudy jokes.

“I do have a few CIs to reach out to if you don’t mind.” he says, not afraid to admit that she’s right.

“I’ll take care of it.” she promises. “You just find this bastard, Hank.”

He nods firmly and she returns the gesture, heading for the stairs.

Hailey looks up as her desk sergeant walks into the waiting room, sighing in relief.

Will has been sitting with her in between quests for updates but her brother-in-law is too much of an anxious presence to provide much comfort.

But Trudy is grounding in a way that she could really use right now.

Except for the look on the sergeant’s face right now.

“Any news?”

“He’s lost a lot of blood.” she reports, passing on Will’s most recent update. “It’s been touch and go; they’ve already lost him once but managed to get him back. The partial neck wound grazed the carotid and it’s kept them on their toes.”

Trudy nods, processing the information.

“We need to talk.” she says finally. “Is there somewhere we can step away?”

Hailey glances at the OR doors before shooting a text to Will and then nodding toward a hallway.

They step into a call room.

“What’s going on?” she demands.

“There’s concern that Torres might be dirty.” Trudy says, not mincing words. “Potentially a plant by a Hispanic gang.”

It’s like an egg has been cracked over the top of her head, a chill spreading down over her.

This whole nightmare was already bad enough but now…

To know that Jay might have been betrayed by someone that he trusted to have his back.

“What?” she demands. “Why… what makes them think that?”

“Its the entire reason that he was riding with Jay today.” Trudy says and somehow things just get even worse. “The brass got Intel that the gangs may have gotten someone into the academy and they took their possibles and put them in the field with experienced officers hoping it would get them a name.”

“Did Jay know?” Hailey says. “Did you?”

“I had no idea.” Trudy promises her. “And they didn’t give Jay a heads up either. Hank’s out for blood.”

He’s not the only one.

If Hailey wasn’t glued to this hospital right now, wasn’t already stressing out just leaving the waiting room to have this conversation, she might be driving to the Ivory Tower to give someone a piece of her mind right now.

Asking a cop to take a PPO on a ride along is already a big ask. Asking them to step into the kind of situations that happen every day in Chicago with an untested rookie on their six is already a lot.

Doing so with a rookie that the brass aren’t sure can be trusted and not even being told that?

The betrayal is unbelievable.

And she can hear what Trudy isn’t saying as well.

Torres could still be innocent. Could easily still be just another rookie cop who had the worst first call of his life today.

But whether he actually is dirty or not, the brass had done Jay so very dirty by sending him out with him the way they had.

“What are we doing about it?” she asks.

“Hank and the team are still hunting for the trigger puller.” Trudy tells her. “Not letting Torres watch anyone’s back but keeping him in the mix so they can keep an eye on him.”

“What does your gut say?”

“It was him.” Trudy says. “Hank knows it and so do I. We just have to prove it.”

“Use Jay.” Hailey says and the surprise on Trudy’s face reflects her own.

“What?”

“It’s going to be next to impossible to prove it conclusively.” Hailey says. “Even if you find the shooter and he fingers him it could so easily be some kind of revenge. But if he finds out Jay’s made it through surgery he’ll have to do something. He can’t let him live to tell us what happened.”

“So you want to use him as bait?” Trudy asks.

“Want is a very strong word for it.” Hailey says, running a hand through her hair. “But I do want this ass to pay for what he’s done.”

“Okay.” Trudy says. “I’ll talk to Hank. Let’s get you back in that waiting room so you’re there when we get news.”

Hailey nods, needing no further encouragement to head out that door, nearly running the short distance back to the waiting room just as Will steps through the doors again.

“Hey.” he says, looking between her and Trudy. “Is there a problem?”

“Nothing you need to worry about.” Hailey dismisses, not ready to explain this to Jay’s brother right now. “Any news?”

“He’s hanging in there.” Will promises. “But he’s keeping it dicey, keeping them on their toes. They lost him again.”

Damn it Jay.

She closes her eyes, presses clenched fists to her forehead.

“He likes to be dramatic though.” he reminds her. “He’ll hang tough. And they think they’ve finally got a solid repair on the carotid.”

He’s literally died twice.

And this could have been prevented.

She meets Trudy’s eye with a small shake of her head.

They can’t let this go.

He’d never expected this to result in going up against the CPD’s most elite unit before he’d even graduated from the academy.

To be fighting to keep from letting them see that something else is going on underneath the surface while he keeps them off Alex’s back long enough for his boss’ idiot kid to get out of Chicago.

He just hopes that someone back home in Pilsen is smart enough to realize that he can’t keep the dogs back forever.

Because Alex probably thinks he’s gotten off scot free.

The trip to guns and gangs hadn’t been the most productive. They don’t know very much at all about the weapons theft, though the three of them hadn’t come back completely empty handed.

They’re in the bullpen now, sorting through the sparse file, looking for a lead that will help them find the one specific buyer that they want.

There’s a couple of rough composites on the board, representing sketches from other witnesses and what tech has been able to come up with from the camera footage they’d gotten.

And it’s not a definite yet but looking at it, Torres can definitely recognize the punk kid in the images.

Knows that while facial recognition hadn’t been able to give a single ID, it’s narrowed it down to a short list of names.

A list that includes Alex Sanchez.

And he’s itching to step away, to call someone and make the point that Alex needs to get out of town.

Because if Intelligence catches up to him, the house of cards that Torres has spent over a year building comes tumbling down as well.

“Oh thank god.” Kim exclaims and all eyes swivel to her desk. “Jay is out of surgery. He’s still critical but he made it through.”

Of course Halstead surviving his injuries against all odds does that as well.

How the hell has this happened? The guy was literally spurting blood from an arterial bleed with a second bullet to the chest.

He’d looked dead already by the time they’d gotten him on the gurney.

Focus.

The other cop is still critical. If he can get to the hospital, it should be easy enough to cause an unfortunate post surgery death that nobody will even consider wasn’t just his body succumbing to the strain that it’s been under.

He just needs to be careful not to leave too quickly after the news.

“That’s great news.” Voight says from the doorway to his office. “But don’t let it distract you. We’ve still got work to do. Let’s focus on comparing the short list from the footage from what we know about the gun theft. There’s a connection in there somewhere. We just need to find it.”

The team all nod, digging back into the evidence with increased vigor and Torres joins them, looking for some kind of misdirection he can throw in to buy some time.

Thirty minutes later, he rises from his desk, crossing to Voight’s door.

“Sergeant?”

Voight looks up, his eyes tired.

“I know its a bad time but I have some parking tickets that I’ve got to take care of to get Ivory Tower off my back. It shouldn’t take more than an hour and I’ll keep my phone on.”

Those eyes narrow briefly but then Voight just sighs.

“We’re just treading water on this right now, anyway.” he says, running a hand over his face. “Get it done.”

“Yes sir.”

He’s on the phone by the time he gets to his car.

Franco can help him with this, both some advice on how to make sure Detective Halstead never wakes up and to get the message to Alex, or at least his dad, to either run or go deep.

And sure enough, by the time he makes it to Chicago Med he knows exactly what he needs to do.

Getting into the ICU and finding his way to the right room is difficult. He needs to stay off camera and out of sight as much as possible because it being clearly known that he stopped by to visit right before things stacking with his being on scene when Halstead was shot could kick off suspicion.

But he also doesn’t want to be seen obviously skulking around either.

It’s easy to steal some insulin on his way in, the stuff just a little too readily available in the ED, but as he comes around the corner he sees a nurse standing outside the room.

“You can go, Will.” she tells a red-headed man. “We’re keeping a close eye on vitals and I’ll page you if anything happens. And you know Hailey will be up soon and won’t let him out of her sight.”

The man, Will, sighs and nods, heading toward the elevator.

The nurse makes a note in the chart before heading into another patient’s room.

He hurries forward, knowing that he needs to get in and out before Hailey makes it up.

Detective Halstead looks like shit, his wan face covered in a thin sheen of sweat behind the breathing tube protruding from his throat.

He looks like a man who’d only just survived a dangerous emergency surgery, a man who could easily go the other direction with no real explanation.

Which works quite nicely for his purposes.

He steps up to the bed, pulling the preloaded syringe from his pocket.

“Nothing personal, Detective.” he says for the second time today as he reaches for the IV line.

And then cold metal is settling against the back of his head.

“Put it down. Now.”

The whole thing was a trap.

He’d slipped up somewhere, done something that had allowed Intelligence to realize that this morning hadn’t been just another day on the streets of Chicago.

They’d set him up, allowed him this opportunity to prove their suspicions.

And he’d walked right into it.

“Last warning.” Upton snarls. “Or I will drop you right here and now and not regret it for a second.”

He drops the syringe onto the sheets and raises his hands, taking a small step back from the bed.

Damn it.

Damn Alex.

Will is never going to let Hailey convince him to go back to work when his brother is in the ICU again.

Yes, the ED had been slammed with patients and understaffed.

And yes, Hailey had taken good care of his little brother even as she’d used him for bait to root out the dirty cop responsible for putting him in this bed in the first place.

But he really wishes that he’d known what was going on, even if there wasn’t much that he could have done about it.

And the whole thing makes him more than a little nauseous.

He knows that Jay’s job is dangerous.

It’s not like this is the first time his brother has been shot in the line of duty.

But the fact that this time another cop was responsible, had held his brother at gunpoint and forced him to give up his weapon, leaving him completely open and vulnerable to the bullets that had ripped through him, the bullets that had very nearly killed him, is a harder pill to swallow.

Dante Torres had broken almost immediately, seeming annoyed by the young thug who’s actions had forced him to blow his cover so early on after working for so long to maneuver himself into that position.

Alex Sanchez, the jackass who’d pulled the trigger, had been arrested within an hour and that side of things is dealt with and handled.

But Will is far more interested in an entirely different kind of resolution.

In seeing his baby brother’s eyes open and feeling confident that he’s actually going to survive this.

The door opens and he looks up to see Hailey walking back in.

She’d sent Torres back to the district with a pair of patrol officers, refusing to leave the hospital herself but still steps out every so often to take a phone call from someone on the team, to stay up to date on the situation.

“How’s he doing?” she asks, sinking back into her chair.

“Twelve hours post surgery down.” he says, running a hand through his hair. “Vitals are… shitty but holding steady.”

“Sounds like our stubborn asshole.” she says, kissing the back of Jay’s hand.

His fingers twitch as she does and her eyes meet Will’s with excitement flashing in them.

“Jay?” Will says, leaning forward and taking his brother’s other hand. “Can you squeeze my hand, bro?”

He gets the slightest of twitches in return and reaches for the call button.

The doctor arrives a few minutes later, watching with them as Jay struggles to the surface, quickly panicking.

“It’s helping you breathe.” Will says gently, wincing at how awful it must be to wake up with a tube down his throat.

Jay shakes his head roughly, pain flashing across his face as it pulls on the tube.

“Easy.” Will tries again. “Jay, easy.”

Hailey’s hand falls on his arm.

“It’s not the tube.” she tells him. “Jay? It’s okay, we got him. Torres is in custody. He won’t hurt anyone else. It’s okay.”

Jay’s struggles instantly stop, his breath still hitching slightly around the tube as his eyes lock on his wife’s face.

“We got him.” she promises him. “We figured it out. Just relax, babe. Let the vent do it’s job, stop fighting it.”

It takes a few minutes but finally he’s calm enough that Will steps back, motioning the doctor forward and letting Hailey keep her hold of Jay’s hand.

Letting her continue to provide him comfort while the doctor examines him.

While the breathing tube gets removed, leaving him coughing and struggling.

Steps up again with ice chips in hand when the doctor finally leaves the room, assuring them that he’s ‘doing well’.

Jay clearly wants answers.

Wants to know how his team had found Torres out.

But he falls asleep again before he has a chance to press them, to demand those answers.

“He’s gonna be okay.” Will breathes and Hailey releases a breathy chuckle.

“Yeah.” she says, squeezing Jay’s hand. “He is.”

Chapter Text

He should have seen it coming.

Nate may have training, may have been top of his class at the military academy that he attends, but he’s still a teenager.

A teenager who is in so far over his head right now that he’s only just starting to comprehend how far that is.

As he moves, Jay thinks with the intention of clearing the weapon to hand it over, the shotgun goes off.

It’s not pointed directly at him but that doesnt stop the buck shot from hitting him, most of it punching through his left shoulder.

He stumbles back, hitting the edge of the door frame and sliding down to land hard on his ass.

He’s panting, breath catching with the pain as a familiar voice cuts through the haze.

“Jay!”

He forces one eye open, lifting his head weakly.

“Di’nt m’n to.” he gasps.

“I know.” she says, taking his hand and he realizes that it’s someone else pressing gauze against his shoulder. “We’ll sort it out later, okay?”

“No!” he gasps out. “No, he… n’t ‘is f’lt.”

“Okay.” she says, and he grimaces as he feels a needle piercing the skin of his right arm. “I’ll make sure he gets taken care of, just let them take care of you, okay?”

Then there are hands on him and he’s being maneuvered onto a backboard, the ceiling filling his vision.

There’s burning pain spreading from his shoulder but the rest of him is cold.

Voices are talking all around him but none of the words are making any sense.

He tries to look, to see how heavily he’s bleeding but his move is blocked as an oxygen mask is slid over his face.

“Er’n?” he slurs as she releases his hand.

Why does he feel so awful?

He hears his partner’s voice, still somewhere close by, but he can’t make out what she’s saying and she’s getting further away.

Where are they taking him?

Someone says his name, close enough that it filters through the fog but his eyelids are getting heavier and heavier; his body colder.

The shock of cold in his right arm manages to cut through that, standing out even against the chill overtaking him.

It’s not enough to stop his eyes from slipping closed, the weight dragging his consciousness deeper and deeper.

And he doesn’t have the strength left to fight back.

He wakes up to beeping.

He always hated that sound. Had changed his alarm so that it would play music rather than the more traditional tone as soon as he could.

And once he’d been able to use cell phone alarms and their programmable tones, it’s one of the first things he does when he gets a new phone.

So who the hell had set this alarm?

“Jay?”

What is Erin doing in his bedroom?

“Jay, if you can hear me, squeeze my hand.”

She’s holding his hand.

He extends his senses, searching for the contact.

Warmth surrounds his right hand and he orders the fingers to contract.

“You are in there.”

It must have worked better than he’d thought.

“Can you open your eyes?” she presses.

Maybe.

He’s so tired and he still doesn’t understand what’s happening here.

He’s starting to think that it isn’t Erin being in his bedroom though, that the beeping isn’t an evil alarm.

Is he in the hospital?

“Jay.” Erin repeats. “Come on, partner. Time to stop sleeping on the job.”

He struggles, a few false starts involved but manages to get his eyes open, blinking to focus his vision on his partner.

“There you are.” she says, offering him a smile. “Welcome back.”

“‘appened?”

“Do you remember Nate?” she asks.

Shit.

Yeah, he does.

“He ‘k?”

“He’s looking at a hard road.” she says. “He killed three people, tried to kill a fourth. Even before he accidentally shot you. Voight isn’t happy about it but I talked him into keeping the accidental discharge in play on shooting you but even without that, the other charges are difficult to ignore.”

Jay nods.

He wishes it could be better but she’s right. Three pre-meditated murders won’t go well for the kid, even if he is a seventeen year old just reacting to an attack on his family.

To his dad being brutally beaten right in front of him and his mom attempting suicide.

Even if his victims had deserved some kind of justice however, Nate’s reaction had been the wrong one.

He’ll be charged as an adult and the leniency of Voight not pushing for attempted murder on his assault of a police officer will help but he’ll still do solid time.

He glances over to see his left arm tightly strapped down.

“‘ow bad?”

“Your vest caught a little bit of it but it was too far to the side and your shoulder and upper arm took most of it.” she explains. “Pretty well shredded part of your subclavian artery which is why you damn near bled out before they got you to the OR. If you hadn’t already been in a hospital when it happened you would have…”

She trails off and he just nods.

They wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.

“They had to use a graft to replace a section of the artery.” she tells him. “But it sounds like you’ll make a full recovery. Zero movement for a few days to give the graft a chance to take and everything starts to heal and then you’ll be in the sling for a few weeks. Plenty of physical therapy to look forward to as well.”

“Great.”

“You’ll be leaping fences in a single bound soon enough.” she tells him. “For now, just try to stay awake until your doctor gets here, huh?”

He nods, mumbling a non committal response.

If they have to wake him up, so be it.