Chapter Text
Will was glad Owen was enjoying the park. The two year old was currently digging in the sandpit.
“No, Owen,” Will said patiently, preventing the little boy from swallowing his handful of sand. “You can’t eat that.”
And his presence was fortuitous when he heard a scream and then a commotion over by the monkey bars. Scooping up Owen, he hurried toward the scene. It was a young boy, curly hair filed with the wood chips the park favored, cradling his arm. The shoulder was distended and he had a cut on his forehead that was bleeding.
Entrusting Owen to a woman nearby whom he knew, Will instructed another of the women to call 911 before kneeling beside the boy.
“Hey, you’re gonna be ok,” He promised. “My name’s Will. What’s yours?”
“Diego,” The child whimpered.
“You’re gonna be ok, Diego,” Will promised again. “I’m just gonna take a quick look at that shoulder, buddy, is that ok?”
At the boy’s nod, Will gently felt around the shoulder joint; as he suspected, it was dislocated.
“Ambulance is on the way,” The woman who had called informed the red headed doctor.
“Did they say how long?”
“They mentioned rerouting - 15 minutes?”
Adding up the numbers in his head, it would be a good half hour to 45 minutes before the boy would be in the ER.
“Diego!” Will looked up to see a Hispanic man approaching, street clothes indicating possible gang affiliations. Will had seen enough of them in the ER bleeding out to know. The man slid to his knees beside Will asking aggressively, “What’s wrong with him?”
“His shoulder’s dislocated,” Will told him, “the laceration on his head looks minor, it’s only bleeding so much because it’s on his forehead. The ambulance is 15 minutes out.”
“You a doctor?” The man squinted at him, suspicious.
“Yes, trauma surgeon at Chicago Med,” Will told him.
“Then can’t you fix him?”
“I could, but it’s safest -
“Fix him!” The man demanded.
Will took a deep breath, looking back down at the kid, who was hiccuping quietly. “OK, but you have to help me hold him, do you understand?”
“Understood.”
Will directed the man on how to hold Diego down properly. Then he started to gently manipulate the arm, figuring out the quickest, safest way to reset the bone in the socket.
“I’m going to count down from three,” Will told them, “You can close your eyes, ok, Diego?”
Sniffling, Diego closed his eyes, gripping hard on the man, presumably his fathers’, shirt.
“Three, two, one—!”
Steady and sure, Will manipulated the arm, and within 15 seconds, there was an audible pop as the bone slid back into the shoulder joint, accompanied by a pain filled yell from Diego, giving way to clearly relieved muscle relaxation as Will pulled back. Quickly checking the joint to make sure it was done properly, Will was happy to give the boy a clean bill of health.
“It looks good,” Will told the man. “Though he should still go to the hospital so they can make sure. And they’ll clean up that cut.”
The man didn’t look like the type who often thanked anybody, but he did now. “Thanks. Doc.”
“It’s no trouble,” Will said, digging through his pockets, pulling out a lollipop. “Here, Diego. You were really brave.”
Smiling now, Diego took the lollipop, sticking it in his mouth with his good hand.
Turning to the man, Will complimented him as well, “You did good, man.”
The man just nodded, keeping all his attention on his son. That was when Will went to reclaim Owen. Maybe they’d just go home and watch cartoons for a while. He’d had enough excitement for his day off.
——————————
Jay was being taciturn - more than usual, anyway, when Will met up with him at Molly’s the next Friday.
“You doing ok?” Will asked his little brother.
“It’s just a case,” Jay told him. “The details of which I am not at liberty to discuss.”
“Ok, Jay,” Will said. “I won’t push. But try to relax, ok?”
“Ok.” Jay said, lifting his beer with a little smile.
——————————
It was a gorgeous mid-Autumn day with rain clouds on the horizon. Will had gotten coffee on the way to work, to combat the slight chill that was starting to pervade the air. The parking garage was quiet as he made his way to the staff elevator.
There was the slight sound of scuffling feet behind him and he started to turn.
He never saw the men who took him.
————————
Jay pulled up to the hospital in his work vehicle, he needed to interview the latest witness who had ended up in the ER. Everyone knew him so he barely had to flash his badge.
On his way out after an unsuccessful interview with the victim (who was also one of the perps), he was surprised not to run into Will. He was sure his older brother was working. Usually he couldn’t wait to come and rib Jay about something before he left. This time, he’d probably joke that it was nice to see Jay in the ER while not in a hospital bed.
“Jay!” He turned to see Natalie hurrying towards him.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Have you heard from Will? His shift started half an hour ago and he hasn’t called in,” Natalie spilled out in one breath.
“No, he hasn’t called me since I saw him at the bar last week,” Jay told her. “Why don’t we go see if his car is here?”
His feeling of foreboding only grew when they found Will’s car parked in his reserved spot. Circling the car to the drivers side, Jay froze as he took in the familiar green messenger bag discarded carelessly on the ground, a cup of spilled coffee beside it.
When he finally found his voice he took out his phone, speed dialing Voight.
“Voight.” Came the terse voice that sounded like the man smoked three packs a day (though Jay knew for a fact that he didn’t).
“Sarge, someone took Will.”
“You at the scene?” Jay was glad to hear even the tiniest bit of concern from his Sergeant for Jay’s brother. Voight didn’t often show it, but he cared about his detectives and that extended to their families. It also helped that Will had done Voight a few favors.
“Yeah, his cars at the hospital but he’s not … And there are signs of a struggle.”
“We’ll be there in ten.” And Voight hung up.
“Try calling him again,” Jay told Natalie, starting to circle around the scene to see if he’d missed anything. And that was how he found Will’s phone, vibrating behind the back wheel of the car, Natalie’s name on the home screen.
By the time Voight arrived, Natalie had fetched Goodwin.
“Do you know what this is about, Sergeant?” Goodwin asked.
“My guess, it has something to do with a case we’re working on,” Jay interjected.
“Maybe.” Voight shook his head. “But we won’t know for sure unless they reach out.”
Jay’s stomach turned, knowing what it meant if any of the gangs they were currently cracking down on had his brother. The message would be bloody, brutal, or both. Will didn’t deserve any of this, he was just a doctor, for Christ’s sake.
“Hey,” Voight said, suddenly in front of Jay. He had that hunched over, earnest look he got when he told the truth. “We’ll find him.”
“Sure,” Jay swallowed, looking away from Voight to the phone on the ground. “I’m just worried about what kind of condition we’ll find him in.”
“You’re brother’s tougher than he looks,” Voight said, clapping a hand on Jay’s shoulder while he went to make some more calls.
“Yeah.” Jay agreed, gut churning, hands clenching as he tried to push down the fear and focus it into rage to fuel his search. Yeah, Will was tougher than he looked.
And he’d find Will, Jay vowed. Alive.
——————————
Ramon Ramirez knew his boss’s nature. He wasn’t the comforting type.
“I got the food,” He announced, after being let into the run down house that served as one of the gangs main headquarters.
“Man, they were out of Chili dogs again?” One of the guys complained as he searched through the bags.
“They’re back,” the lookout said from his position at a hole in the window curtain.
Ramon watched as the boss came in, followed by two other gang members who were huffing under the weight of an unconscious body.
“Who’s that?”
“The brother of one of those detectives who’s been after us,” The boss said, grinning smugly at the unconscious captive. “Pig won’t be investigating us no more once we send him proof that we have his brother.” He motioned at the men carrying the captive. “Put him in the basement. Make sure he stays put. And cover his eyes with tape or something, don’t want him to know our faces. Ya feel me?”
As the poor bastard was dragged past the table, Ramon glanced at the man’s face, and he froze as he recognized him. It was the doc who’d fixed his little brother Diego’s arm at the park a few weeks ago.
Turning back to his food, Ramon pushed down the niggling feeling of guilt in his stomach.
——————————
Several hours later, they still didn’t have any answers. While the security cameras had given them footage of the kidnapping, they’d covered their faces and the plates they ran had been reported stolen.
They had nothing.
“Maybe this wasn’t about the case?” Adam ventured after a few hours. “Maybe we should look into Will. Did he clash with any patients lately, things like that.”
“It’s worth a shot,” Voight shrugged. The phone rang and he answered it. Jay watched as the sarge’s face got even more serious and he put down the receiver without saying a word. “Platt has something.”
‘Something’ was a a small box with Jay’s name on the front. Jay waited impatiently as the box was inspected by his colleagues and pictures taken of it, before he donned gloves and opened the box. Inside was a stack of print outs. The pictures were grainy but clear enough to see his brother.
His brother.
Will’s hands were tied, the top of his scrubs torn. Jay could make out a few bruises but no obvious blood. There was duct tape wound around his head, keeping his eyes covered. Jay winced internally in sympathy; that was going to be a bitch to get off later. The room he was being kept in looked like any generic basement in Chicago - dirty with a chipped cement door and bare walls.
If there was a later, he reminded himself, fruitless agony slicing through his chest at the thought.
At the very bottom of the pile was a note written in sloppy block lettering. ‘Stop investigating or you will never find his body.’
Jay looked up to see the team looking at him sympathetically.
“We’re not stopping,” Voight said firmly.
“We’re not stopping,” Jay agreed.
They would find his brother - and they would find him alive, if it was the last thing that Jay ever did.
———————————
Ramon was fighting an internal battle. It had been years since he had joined the gang, and usually he was down for anything. But it didn’t sit right to see the doc hurt. He’d seen the boss go down to the basement when word came back that the detectives weren’t stopping their investigation, despite the box they’d received. He’d heard the occasional sound from the basement, faint cries from the captive drifting up the stairs.
“Send that,” the boss said, handing the fresh printouts to one of the guys. “Same as the last time. We’ll see if the pigs get this message.”
Ramon managed to look at the picture over Marco’s shoulder. They decided him.
He needed to make a call.
———————————
“The call came from a phone booth,” Mouse had said before they left the station. “Anonymous tip.”
So they were rushing to the address on the East Side, rundown buildings speeding by the windows. SWAT met them at the address. It was a typical gangbangers’ house, diseased looking and decrepit.
“I’m taking point,” Voight said.
“But —
“No ‘buts’ Halstead,” Voight was firm. “You can’t help Will if you rush in without thinking.”
So Jay followed him in, SWAT penetrating first, clearing the rooms in a volley of shots, screams and semi-controlled mayhem. Then they were going down to the basement. There were shots inside the room and SWAT got the door down fast.
“Clear!”
Jay’s heart was in his shoes as he finally got into the dingy room where his brother had been held prisoner. There was a body by the door and another by Will’s feet. Kneeling by his brother’s bound form, his heart broke when Will flinched, jerking back from his gentle touch, pressing himself back into the wall, trying to hide from what he couldn’t see.
His brother’s scrub top was gone, a crumpled pile of red in the corner, just like the last batch of pictures had indicated. Bruises dotted his torso, dried blood that had dripped from a cut on his collarbone, making his pale skin look paler in the dim light. They’d taken his shoes.
“Will, it’s ok,” Jay said, tears clogging his throat. “It’s me, it’s Jay.”
Will slumped into his touch. “Jay?” His voice filled with hope.
“Yeah,” Jay said. “Let’s get this tape off of you.”
“Is Ramon ok?” Will asked suddenly, like he’d just remembered.
“Ramon?” Jay asked, confused.
“He shot the guy who was gonna shoot me,” Will said.
Jay looked at Voight, who’s eyebrows had shot up at this information.
“He was right in front of me,” Will continued, unaware of the silent exchange above his head. “Told the other one that if he wanted to kill me he’d have to go through him. Is he alive? I can’t see anything,” Will asked, frustrated.
Voight checked the pulse of the man lying at Will’s feet. “I’ve got a pulse,” He rasped. “Get those medics in here, we need this one alive.”
“Thank you,” Will said in the sergeant’s general direction, cringing as Jay tried to work on the tape. “Jay, just wait for the paramedics, they’ll have the equipment to get the tape off - maybe even with minimal damage.”
“You and your hair,” Jay joked. He managed to get the tape off his brother’s eyes, ripping off the ends so someone else could get the sticky mess out of the bright red hair.
“Don’t you know it,” Will grinned back, tiredly. “You can still get my hands free, though?”
“Oh yeah, sure,” Jay said, getting to work.
He’d get the whole story later. For now, it was enough to know Will was ok. He wrapped his arms around his brother once his hands were free, crushing him gently to his chest, relieved to feel his heart beating.
Will was okay.
The nightmare was over.
When they tried to get him to his feet, Will cried out, right leg giving out beneath him.
“What is it?” Jay asked, feeling over his brother’s body. “Are you ok?”
Will breathed heavily, hands clamping down on fresh blood that was coming from his leg. “Might’ve gotten a little bit stabbed?” He said, sheepishly. “It stopped bleeding earlier, moving probably wasn’t a good idea.”
“Stabbed!?”
“Jay, I’ll be ok,” Will tried to assure his brother, even as his breath became notably shallow and he leaned his head against the dirty wall, scrunching his eyes shut. “I’ll be okay, it’s a minor wound.”
“I’ll call in another ambulance,” Voight rumbled, kneeling beside the two brothers. “You good, doc?”
“I w- will be,” Will said, letting out a shuddering breath. “I haven’t eaten in almost two days — I’d kill for some water.”
“I’ll take care of that,” Voight stood, forestalling Jay, who’d begun pressing his hands against Will’s leg, looking sickened at his brother’s distressed grunt of pain. “You keep him awake.”
“Copy that,” Jay said, keeping pressure on the wound, one hand going up to Will’s face, where his eyes were fluttering shut. “Will? Hey, Will, stay with me, man!”
“Just,” Will panted, opening pain filled eyes, “Adrenaline crash.”
“Okay,” Jay said, using his free hand to cradle his brother’s face, stroking his thumb over the cheekbone. “Okay.” Calling over his shoulder. “Where’s that ambulance?!”
“Medic’s are on their way down,” Voight said, having been speaking into his radio.
Jay saw that is was Gabby Dawson and relaxed a little, knowing Will was in good hands.
“Jay,” She greeted them. “Hey, Will. What’s going on?”
“Got stabbed,” Will said, Jay shooting a panicked look at Gabby when the words started to slur.
“Okay, Will,” Gabby said. “Is there anything else we need to know? Are there any other areas that are causing you pain?”
“Back,” Will panted. “Ribs. Leg.” He grunted as Brett ripped open his pants leg, getting better access to the wound.
“What’d they do?” Jay snarled, his angry tone juxtaposed with the gentle hand he ran through is brother’s sweaty hair.
“Well,” Will grunted, relaxing a little as Gabby pushed morphine, “That one guy had some serious anger issues.”
“Salvadores?” Jay asked.
“They didn’t tell me their names.”
They. He could imagine his brother, alone, blind-folded, and getting beaten on by multiple perps. Will could’ve died. Because of Jay. Or more specifically, Jay’s job. Jay allowed the anger to simmer deep inside him. Will needed him right now. He’d take care of the scumbags later. From the look on Voight’s face as they carried Will upstairs on the backboard, his boss wouldn’t object to Jay having a few minutes alone with the ringleader.
Riding along in the ambulance, looking at the bruises on his brothers torso, Jay knew he would enjoy every minute of it.
————————————
“How is he?” Voight asked, voice contained to an even lower rumble than usual after he had motioned Jay out of his brother’s hospital room.
“Good. He’s good,” Jay said, bruise-shadowed eyes and the blood streaked shirt he was wearing adding to his tired look. “But they beat him pretty bad, sarge.”
“I saw the statement,” Voight said calmly, glancing over Jay’s shoulder again. “Did they say if he’ll have any permanent damage?”
“No, he should be fine,” Jay shook his head. “Except for the stab wound, which didn’t hit anything vital, it’s mostly bruises or superficial. He’ll be out of here in a day or two.”
“Good.” Glancing again into the room, before telling Jay, “I was just heading to Ramon’s room. The one Will said saved his life.”
“I’ll come with you,” Jay said, glancing into the room as well. He saw that Will had fallen asleep, so he figured he was good to go.
Ramon’s room was like Will’s, except for the cuff chaining him to the bed and the policeman guarding the door. He watched them enter the room, not saying anything.
“So, Ramon,” Jay said, hands in his pockets, standing loose, as if relaxed, though he was anything but relaxed. “My brother says you saved his life. Why don’t you tell us what happened?”
“You the doc’s brother?” Ramon’s voice was more accented by the pain he was still in despite the meds.
“Yeah.”
“I owed him.”
“Why?” Voight interjected. “What did Will do for you?”
“A few weeks ago,” Ramon explained. “My little brother Diego fell when we were at the park. He dislocated his shoulder. The doc fixed it. Gave Diego a lollipop. So like I said - I owed him.”
Jay shared an incredulous glance with Voight, not surprised that Will would be a Good Samaritan, but surprised that Ramon had paid the debt.
“Look, I’m not proud,” Ramon continued, “Of a lot of the things I’ve done in my life. But the doc’s good people and the nurse when Diego was at the hospital after, said that if the shoulder had been left dislocated for as long as it would’ve taken for him to get to the hospital, that he would’ve needed surgery. Your brother is the reason why Diego isn’t in a hospital bed still. So yeah,” He sank back into he bed, having obviously exhausted himself. “I owed him. And what the boss did to him -“ He shook his head, cutting himself off.
“Okay,” Voight said. “We’ll make sure yours and Will’s statements match and then we’ll see what we can do about getting you a lighter sentence.”
“Thank you,” Ramon said, his eyes drifting shut much like Will’s had a little while earlier.
“It’s funny,” Voight commented as they stood, once again, outside of Will’s room. “How many coincidences there are in life. In this case, it’s better not to look a gift horse in the mouth.”
“That’s always been Will’s way,” Jay sighed, leaning back in the uncomfortable visitors chair. “He makes friends wherever he goes.”
“Well, in this case, it’s a good thing,” Voight said. “If Ramon hadn’t called us …”
“Yeah,” Jay said, sick to his stomach at the thought of Will, dead eyes staring at him from a ditch, dead because of Jay’s job. “Yeah, this could’ve ended a whole different way.”
“Thank God it didn’t,” Voight said, standing as his phone buzzed. Walking away to take the call.
Jay went into Will’s room, pulling up the chair, holding his brother’s hand around the IV (ugh, needles) content to watch his brother sleep. He catalogued the bruising he could see, knowing all too well what instruments made each kind of mark. Earlier, Will had clung to him while the Forensic photographer got the evidence, standing stiffly, slumped into Jay’s shoulder as the belt marks on the red-head’s back were photographed. There would be a file at the precinct of his brother’s injuries.
Jay knew that once he was back at the office, he’d have Mouse make copies for him, and he’d stare at them on the worse nights, when he couldn’t sleep for memory, blaming himself and drowning his sorrows. He hadn’t been able to prevent this - and he was (obliquely) the cause of this - so he settled in for the long hall. No one would get past him. He would guard his brother’s sleep.
After all, that’s what Ranger brothers were for; to destroy the monsters.