Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Friday, June 15th.

A vicious kick to his side pulls Jay back to consciousness. Pain explodes in his ribs, spreading through his whole torso, and he tries to pull his knees to his chest to protect himself from any more kicks. Lying on his stomach, moving into a fetal position hurts like hell. He sucks in a deep breath, feeling all his ribs protest loudly with the motion, and lets it out with a pained grunt. “Fu-huck.”

His head is throbbing like crazy, but he still opens his eyes, finding everything dark and blurry. Trying to blink away the fuzziness, he scans his surroundings, groping around with his right hand to add touch to the blurry vision. He is rewarded by someone stomping on his fingers, breaking at least two of them. His agonized yelp is silenced by another kick, this time to his abdomen. That brings on a wave of nausea, making him gag, and he squeezes his eyes shut again, barely able to turn his head enough to not vomit on himself.

“Shit, man, he’s still alive!” It’s a startled whispered shout close to his head.

Another quiet voice answers from somewhere beyond his feet, and Jay thinks the second voice sounds less panicked, more in control, a little older maybe. “Grab his things. Wallet, watch. His phone is useless, it’s broken.”

There are hands on him now, pushing him onto his back, sending another wave of pain, dizziness and nausea through his body. The hands pat him down roughly and pull his wallet from his pant’s pocket. Jay still has his eyes tightly shut, still trying to breathe through the Dave Grohl concert in his head, the stabbing behind his eyes and the aching ribs that protest every inhale. But his arms come up to bat away the groping hands, and he tries to turn on his side again to make it to his hands and knees.

“Freddy, he’s getting up!” The younger voice sounds panicked, and suddenly he hears the unmistakable click of a gun. “I’ll just shoot him and be done with it.“

Jay freezes half-way to his knees, sitting back on his heels, his left arm propping him up, the right hand pressed tightly to his aching ribs, his head bowed between his shoulders. His eyes are still closed to ward of the nausea, and he feels something sticky and wet running down the left side of his face. This might be over in a second anyway, so he waits.

“No, Mike! Think! If you shoot him, this whole neighborhood will wake up, there’ll be cops everywhere. They’ll get us for killing a cop!”

“But you know what Jason said!” The voice of ‘Mike’ is agitated, scared, even if he tries to keep it down. “He wanted us to take care of his problem or he would take care of us!”

“I know.”

Jay opens his eyes and lifts his head, trying to focus on the two dark shadows in front of him. “List’n to me.” His voice is rough, and he knows there’s probably nothing he can do or say to stop them, but he still tries. “I c’n h’lp you.” The words are a little slurred, his jaw exploding with pain at the movement, joining ranks with the rest of his aching body.

The shadow of the second voice moves closer, Freddy’s presence now directly in front of Jay. The man crouches down, looking directly into Jay’s eyes. “Yes, you can help us.” Freddy’s left hand grabs the back of Jay’s neck and pulls him closer. “Just die already.”

Pain explodes in Jay’s left side, going deep into his gut, and he sucks in a shuddering breath. It hurts even more when the knife is pulled out again. His breath hitches, his vision darkens, but he clings to consciousness by the tips of his fingers. Freddy thrusts the knife in again.

And again.

Until Jay loses his fight and is pulled into oblivion.

Chapter Text

Friday, June 15th

The doors slide open as he approaches them, and he steps into the entrance hall of Med. He’s been here so often, he doesn’t even have to look where he’s going. His feet already know the fastest route to the waiting room of the ED.

Stepping through the last door, he’s met with a bunch of people, all of them part of the Chicago Police Force. He makes out his team in the corner and fights his way through the throng of people, greeting people left and right. Adam sits hunched over on one of those uncomfortable plastic chairs, face buried in his hands, Kevin at his side, looking at a loss on how to comfort his friend. Al leans against the wall, chewing on a toothpick, face unreadable as always. Voight paces with a phone pressed against his ear, talking agitatedly but inaudibly.

As soon as Jay steps closer, Adam rushes to his feet and slams him against a wall. “What the fuck, Jay?”

Jay gasps, his back and ribs protesting the fierce tackle, and he doesn’t know what to say to Adam. Kevin is there in an instant and pulls Adam back a little, giving Jay enough room to suck in a shuddering breath.

But Adam advances on him once again. “What happened, Jay? You were supposed to show her the ropes! Look out for her! Protect her!” He points to the closed double doors leading to the treatment area. “And now she’s back there somewhere, fighting for her life.” Kevin holds Adam back, but Jay cringes back a little into the wall nonetheless.

“I’m sorry, Adam.”

“SORRY?” Adam’s face is beet red with rage. “Are you fucking kidding me? You are SORRY?”

“That’s enough, Ruzek!” It’s Al’s quiet but determined voice that makes Adam back off and allowing Kevin to guide him back to his corner.

Al steps towards Jay, taking his arm and gently guiding him out of the waiting room, through the busy entrance hall, and out the front door Jay only stepped through a couple of minutes ago.

As soon as they are outside, Al lets go of Jay’s arm and turns him to look him over. Jay takes a deep breath, feeling the bruising in his back and his ribs from the bullets hitting his vest. “How are Kim and Erin?”

Al sighs and rubs his face. “Not good. Kim hit her head pretty hard in the explosion, and that caused a severe brain bleed. In addition to that, a couple of metal pieces were embedded in her torso and leg, and she lost a lot of blood. The doctors hope to remove all the shrapnel parts during surgery and drain the brain bleed, but she’s in critical condition. And there’s a chance she might not survive this. Even if she makes it through surgery, they don’t know if she’ll ever wake up again, and if she does, how her mental state might be.”

Jay lets himself drop onto one of the benches outside the ED, burying his face in his hands. He can’t believe what he’s hearing. But before he can say or ask anything, Al continues.

“Erin caught two bullets. One slipped just under her vest, went through her side. She’s in surgery, too.”

“Fuck.” Jay gets up, raking his fingers through his hair. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Al only hums but stays quiet, and Jay turns to face him. “What?”

“Hank talked to Erin before she had to go into surgery, and she told him everything that happened. And I can tell you, Hank is not happy.”

Jay shakes his head and lets out a snort. “Pissed off beyond belief is probably more accurate.”

Al studies Jay, pulling one eyebrow up, and nods. “I’ve tried to talk him down, but he’s out for blood. Especially since Erin and Kim got hurt. I wouldn’t turn my back on him if I were you.”

“What? Me?”

“Of course you! Who else?” Al shakes his head. “What do you expect? Erin told Hank how she tried to talk you out of going into that warehouse.”

“What? No.”

“She told Hank all about your little stunt, how you showed off for Kim’s sake and didn’t listen when Erin said you needed to wait for backup. That you were driven to catch the target to get revenge for your young CI’s death.”

Jay shakes his head vigorously. “No, Al. That’s not what happened.”

“Oh, come on, Jay.” Al points his finger at Jay. “I saw how driven you were after the death of your CI. And you asked three times how to proceed, if you shouldn’t just go in there. And even I could hear over the radio how unnerved you were by the command to hold and wait for backup.”

“No, Al. No.” Jay’s voice pitches a little in desperation. How can Al not see what really went down? “You got it all wrong. I… I knew we needed to wait for you…”

“It doesn’t matter now.” He looks back over his shoulder to the entrance. “I don’t think it would be wise for you to stick around. Adam will just blow up again the second he lays eyes on you.”

“Are you serious? You’re sending me away from the hospital?”

“Go back to the district. Get cleaned up and start going through the evidence. Now that Emmet is dead thanks to you, we really need to find a new way to get to the big boss. Any clue to his identity. Start working through everything.”

“But…”

“Just go. Find something to get us the big boss. And maybe Hank will let you keep your job.” Al turns on his heels and moves back into the hospital.

Jay sighs. This is all so fucked up. He remembers Erin’s outburst this morning in the locker room all too well. How she had slammed him against the lockers, demanding he should stop with the protecting shit. Because they weren’t a couple anymore. As if he needed to be reminded of how she just ripped his heart out without telling him the reason for it. No one on the team knows, and he’s trying to act normal around her, professional, but that’s not what she’s doing. She’s always undermining him, accusing him of being rash or reckless, of bossing her around. The way she treats him one would think he dumped her while cheating with her best friend. He has resigned to be the bad guy for now.

But outright lying to Hank, accusing Jay of being the reason for this whole clusterfuck? For getting Kim blown up? For shooting their target for revenge instead of arresting him? That’s just one step too far, even for Erin.

His hand unconsciously digs into his pants pocket where the little sack with the ring still sits tight, burning a whole into his heart. It had taken him a long time to find the perfect ring for Erin, something that fit her exactly, her personality, her being. And now it’s just junk. Expensive junk. But still…

Jay turns back to the parking lot, rubbing at his aching ribs absentmindedly, searching for his truck.

“Jay? You doing okay?”

He turns back at the kind voice and smiles at April, who is standing at the open doors to the ED. “Yeah, sure.”

“You look a little pale. Did someone check you out?” She steps closer to him, looking him up and down. “I heard you were in the same explosion as Kim, and there were bullets flying, too.”

Jay chuckles a little, regretting the motion instantly as a pained hiss escapes his lips. “I’m really fine, April. Thanks for checking on me.”

April doesn’t look convinced. “Would you feel more comfortable if it was your brother checking you out? I could call or page him.”

“No!!!” His response is instant and intense. The last thing he needs on this sucky day is another round with Will. He wouldn’t miss an opportunity to lay into Jay again. So, no. Not happening. He tries for a convincing smile. “Thank you, April. I’m really fine. No need to bother Will. Nothing’s displaced or broken, nothing’s bleeding. But if anything changes, I’ll come straight back to you, and you can even tell me you told me so.”

“Oh, Jay, I wouldn’t say that.” April shakes her head, but can’t refrain from smiling, too. “Just… look after yourself.”

He gives her a grateful nod and turns towards the parking lot and his truck.

Back in the bullpen after getting rid of his gear – how he hates that he will have to break in a new vest now –, he starts working through all the evidence, pushing away the worry for Kim and Erin and ignoring the stings of pain from his ribs and back with every movement. He shoots a text to the brother of his dead CI, Marty, who had given them the location of the meet. Marty might know more, might even be able to find out more about the big boss.

He keeps sorting through the evidence and all the information they already have, adds to their whiteboard, but he just can’t find anything on the big boss. Emmet was just too careful. And as fucked up as this whole situation is, he doesn’t regret shooting Emmet. It was either him or Erin. And no matter what she did to him, she’s still his partner, part of his team, and he would never let anyone shoot her if he could prevent it. So, all hopes are on Marty. Checking his phone regularly without getting an answer, his worry for Marty is added to his already peaked worry over Kim and Erin.

A few hours into this, Hank stomps up the stairs into the bullpen. He looks a little tired, but Jay can see the simmering anger.

“In my office, Halstead.”

There is no one here except for them, but Hank doesn’t seem to want to take chances of someone turning up unexpectantly.

“How are Erin and Kim?”

“Still alive.” Hank steps around his desk and motions at the door. “Close the door.”

Jay does as he’s told and turns to Hank who’s taken a seat behind his desk, glowering at him.

“You’re suspended.”

“I’m what?”

“You heard me. You’re suspended until further notice. Hand over your gun and badge.”

“Are you kidding me?” Jay shakes his head, not believing what is happening right now. “Why am I being suspended?”

Voight’s voice is rough and emotionless, his arms crossed over his chest. “You really need to ask?”

“Yes! What did I do that warrants a suspension for an undefined time?”

Voight still sits in his chair, his jaw moving as if he’s controlling his anger, then starts ticking off a list on his fingers. “You disobeyed a direct order. You killed our only lead to the big boss behind these fatal drug distributions just to revenge your little CI. And we shouldn’t forget that you endangered your teammates, nearly getting both of them killed!” Voight’s voice rises as he lists off his reasons.

Jay crosses his arms, mirroring Voight. Even if these accusations were true, it’s not like Voight hasn’t done them multiple times in his career. Hell, these are the reasons the Ivory Tower always breathes down Hank’s neck. But Jay knows from his time in the army when to keep his mouth shut, which fights to pick.

“So, you just suspend me without hearing my side of the story? Just believe every word Erin said?” Hank just looks at him, not moving, not reacting at all. “Erin wanted to move in, not me. She was the one to reveal our position in the warehouse. I was just trying to back her up.”

“That’s not how Erin is telling this story.” Voight musters him intensely. “And I can’t see why she would be lying to me.”

Jay shakes his head. This just can’t be happening. He’s prepared to take Erin’s shit over the breakup but this is way beyond her making him pay. For whatever she thinks he needs to pay for. “Look, Hank. I know you are protective of her, because she’s like a daughter to you, and I also know that you know we were together, but we are not anymore. And she’s angry at me. But I swear…”

Hank interrupts him, anger and disgust clearly on his face. “That’s exactly why I don’t tolerate relationships in my unit. I told you from the start to keep it in your pants. And you didn’t listen. I don’t know what you did to piss her off, and I don’t care. This shit doesn’t fly in my team. There will be an investigation regarding the shooting, but no matter how this plays out, you’re off the team.”

“Hank, come on…” Jay’s desperate now. Erin dumps him, pins her mistakes on him, and he gets kicked out of this unit? “You can’t be serious!”

“I can’t trust you anymore. And if I can’t trust you to have my teams back, you can’t be on this team any longer.” Hank gets up now, holding out his hand. “Now, hand over your gun and badge!”

Jay bites down on his anger, recognizing a lost battle when he sees one, and pulls his weapon and badge from his belt. This can’t be over like this. But he knows no matter what he says now, no matter how valid or true his arguments are, Voight won’t hear any of what he has to say.

Walking out of Hank’s office and through the empty bullpen, he knows he’ll be cleared for this. He already talked to the other unit that is investigating their shooting. That’s why he was late to the hospital. But this lack of trust from Hank hurts bad. How Hank could even think that of him. That he would endanger Erin. Or Kim. Hank should know that he would do everything in his power to protect his team, and especially Kim.

Before he can dive deeper into his thoughts, his phone rings. There it is. The call he’s been waiting for all day from Marty.

“Marty. Glad to hear from you. Can we meet?” He listens to the other man while making his way down the front steps and out of the bullpen. His back and ribs twinge with every step he takes, reminding him that even though his vest did its job protecting him, he still was shot twice earlier that day. But he can work through the pain. Agreeing to meet Marty to hopefully get the last puzzle piece to find the man behind this, he steps into the darkening evening and out of the 21^st.

Leaving his truck behind in the busy street where one bar sits next to another, Jay steps into the side alley to meet his CI. The alley is dark and dirty, obstructed by large dumpsters, but he can make out Marty leaning next to the back door of one of the pubs.

“Marty, how are you?”

Marty steps a bit closer to him, his head on a swivel, his voice low and hoarse. “This is bad, Jay. I think he knows that I talked to you.”

Jay frowns. Marty had told them about their target, Emmet, meeting with the big boss, had told them the location of the meeting. If the big boss thinks Marty is snitching… “Okay, tell me all you know, and we’ll get you out.”

“Kyle is already dead, man. And I have a daughter. If I talk to you, he will kill her, too!” Marty looks around the dark alley again.

“We’ll protect her. I promise. We’ll take her out of Chicago, somewhere safe.”

Marty seems to consider what to do, but then he nods. “Okay. The man Emmet was meeting? His name is Jason Cunningham. He’s been distributing to all the major players in the city. But lately, he decided to add bad batches if they screw him over or try to take advantage of him. This way he ensures they keep to their word.”

“Holy shit.” It all comes together now. All those overdoses being related to the same distributor instead of different gangs taking revenge on each other. That sets the case in a completely different light. “Do you know how to get to this Cunningham?”

Marty shrugs. “He’s not hiding so much. Has a big condo at the riverside. And he operates out of a warehouse at the marina. He covers it all with his legal businesses, but it’s there.”

“Okay, Marty, I want you to go home, get your daughter and go straight to the 21^st. Ask for a Detective Olinsky or Sergeant Voight. Tell them I sent you. And then tell them exactly what you just told me, okay? They’ll take care of you and your daughter.”

Marty looks scared, but he nods. “Why don’t you take us in?”

“I’m off the case at the moment.” Jay shrugs and sighs, shaking his head a little. “Don’t worry about me. This is important. Go. I’ll phone ahead so that they’ll be expecting you!”

Marty turns and starts to move further down the alley. Jay pulls out his phone and hits speed dial. But all he gets is Voight’s voicemail. He leaves the details of his encounter with Marty, everything Marty told him.

As he finishes his call, he can suddenly hear muffled sounds from behind him. He squints down the dark alley, but can’t make out anything. There might be movement further down next to one of the large dumpsters. He moves closer, his hand reaching down to his gun automatically, only to realize it’s not there.

“Marty?”

There is only a strange grunting sound coming from behind the dumpster, and Jay steps carefully around, holding his phone out for some light and squinting into the darkness.

As soon as he can see around the dumpster, his eyes fall on Marty. His eyes wide open, staring unseeingly, his head resting in a large puddle of blood. “What the f…”

Out of the corner of his eyes, he can make out movement a millisecond before his head explodes, making him drop to the ground like a bag of potatoes, sending him straight into oblivion.

Chapter Text

“Target on scene. How should we proceed?” Jay relays the news that the man they are waiting for just arrived. He can feel the adrenaline starting to pump through his veins. This is the man responsible for the death of his young CI. And finally, they have him exactly where they want him. If they play this right, they might get more than just him and his organization. They might get the mastermind behind all this.

“Hold your position. We’re 15 minutes out.” Voight’s voice is as rough as usual over the radio.

“That’s just wasted time.” Erin turns to Kim in the backseat who just lowers the high-performance camera with which she captured the arrival of Emmet Walker and his goons. “We know he’s in there, and he only brought three men with him. We should go in there and get him.”

Jay shakes his head at Erin. “Voight said to hold. And he’s right. We don’t know how many more men are in there. We don’t know who he is meeting with. We might need the backup.”

“That’s right. I almost forgot.” Erin sneers at him. “Always following orders like the good little soldier that you are.”

“Come on, Erin. Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” She chuckles and punches Kim lightly on the knee. “I’m right, don’t you think?”

Kim looks from Erin to Jay, not sure what to make of this verbal exchange.

Erin turns back to Jay. “She thinks I’m right but is just too polite to say so.” She gives him a false grin. “I thought you wanted to get the guy for killing your CI. And now you chicken out? I for one won’t take the chance of him escaping a second time.” She opens the door, nodding for Kim to follow her. “Let’s get this bastard.”

Jay watches helplessly as Erin exits their truck and starts to make her way towards the side door of the warehouse they were observing, Kim following her lead. Jay sighs deeply and keys his radio. “Exiting the truck and moving in to the target house.” He can hear Voight swearing over the radio, telling him to hold, that the team will be there in 13 minutes, but it’s too late. Erin and Kim have already reached the back door and are about to breach. He needs to hurry if he wants to do his job and protect his partner and their newest member.

Crossing the open area from his truck to the back door quickly, adjusting the straps on his vest as he goes, he crouches down next to the door opposite Erin and Kim. “We need to wait for the rest to be in position, Erin. They’ll be here in 10 minutes!”

She shakes her head. “And here I thought you were the one who wanted to nail this guy! If we wait, he could be gone by the time we make our move.”

“Of course, I want to nail him! But I don’t want him to get away because we rushed this, or because we are outmanned! Backup is just a few minutes out!”

“If you want to wait for them, be my guest. I’m going in.” She opens the door quietly and moves into the dim warehouse.

Kim gives him a doubtful look, wanting him to tell her what to do.

“Move in. If she goes in, we all go.” He keys his radio to let the rest of the team know. “Entering the warehouse from the east.” Again, Voight protests loudly but it’s too late, Erin is already in. And it’s like he told Kim. They go in as a team.

Kim nods and follows Erin, who has already moved away from the entrance, using the shelves for cover and closing in on the voices that can be heard from inside.

“Stay low and close to me.” Jay moves with Kim to where Erin is crouched, noticing a few security cameras at strategic angles throughout the warehouse. Their entrance has probably not stayed unnoticed, losing them the element of surprise.

Tapping Erin lightly on the shoulder, he tries again to reason with her. “Look at all the cameras. There are a lot more men in here than the few goons we saw enter with Walker. And they know we are here now.” He points to the blinking red light on one of the cameras.

“He’s right there. We just need to arrest him!” She whisper-shouts at him.

“It’s a goddamned hornet’s nest, and we don’t have backup!”

“If they know we are here, we better hurry.” Erin ignores his protest and points to the left. “I’ll go down there, and you and Kim go right. This way we get him from two sides.” And she moves off before Jay is able to say anything.

Jay sighs and starts moving to where Erin told him to go, Kim following him.

“Jay, what’s going on here? I know I’m the new kid, but this doesn’t feel right.”

“I’m sorry, Kim, she’s usually not like this. I’ll explain later. Let’s just focus on this for now to get through this and hope the others arrive in time to back us up, okay?”

She nods and they keep moving, but before they reach their position Jay can hear Erin’s shout of “Chicago PD! Put down your weapons. You are under arrest!”

He swears under his breath and moves into the open just as the bullets start to fly. Making sure to keep them covered behind a large stack of crates, he starts taking out shooters, hearing Kim relaying a 10-1 over the radio. Jay peers around the crate and scans the area for their target. As soon as the shooting started, Jay saw Walker hide behind two of his goons, but he also saw another man moving away from Erin and to the back entrance of the warehouse. This must be the mysterious man Walker was meeting. The one they needed to catch to get to the bottom of this case. And he was slipping away.

Jay’s concentration is already split between keeping an eye on Erin and keeping Kim safe. He can only hope that their backup arrives in time to arrest the other man and save their bacon. Until then, he’ll just have to do whatever he can to keep them alive, because as he had predicted, there are a lot more men inside the warehouse than the few goons Walker came in with. And there are more pouring out of the room Jay suspects to be the security room.

Suddenly, he sees Walker moving away from his goons and making a beeline for Erin, pulling out his own gun. Before he can shout out a warning, Walker starts shooting, and Jay has to watch helplessly as Erin is hit by bullets, collapsing to the ground. He leaves his cover, sprinting for Erin’s position, and aims his weapon at Walker who keeps moving closer to Erin to put a last bullet into her, and without hesitation he pulls the trigger.

Walker drops to the ground without firing his gun again.

Jay half expects the goons to drop their weapons now that their boss is dead, but they just keep firing. He has to duck behind a crate to avoid the bullets that are concentrating on him now, but he is too slow. One of the bullets finds its target and slams into his left side, making him spin and hit the ground. Gasping for air, he scrambles to his knees and leans against the crate. His right hand moves to his side to check for blood, while his lungs try desperately to draw in enough air to not black out. His brain tells him that he’s okay, that the bullet didn’t go through, and with every painful inhale, breathing gets a little easier.

“Erin?” It’s more of a wheeze and probably not loud enough for her to hear him over the gunshots, but he still hopes to get a response from her, would even take her snarking at him gladly. But she stays silent. “Shit.”

Kim is still firing from her position, and Jay is about to move on towards Erin, when he detects movement from the corner of his eyes. Focusing in on the motion, he can make out one of the goons pulling his arm back to throw something in Kim’s direction. His bullet drops the man, but it’s too late. The small round object is flying straight for Kim. A sick feeling floods through him as he realizes that he is too far away to get Kim out of the danger zone.

“KIM! Move!” He starts running towards her, feels another bullet slamming into his back, propelling him forward, and he sees Kim staring at him in horror, getting up to move away from her position, but he knows she won’t make it out of the blast radius.

In the next second, the little black ball explodes at the base of the crate where Kim had been, sending her flying through the air to be stopped abruptly by the warehouse wall. The blast wave hits him only a millisecond later, reversing his movement and slamming him backwards into a shelf that bursts under the impact. The heat rolls over his face and he raises his arms to shield it from the falling debris.

Pain explodes throughout his whole body, and as soon as his head hits the ground, he blacks out.

Slowly, he finds his way back to awareness, his head still pounding from the explosion, fear of just having lost two of his closest friends still gripping his heart tightly. Getting closer to consciousness with every breath, he realizes that his head doesn’t still pound from the explosion but from a nasty blow to the head with some kind of bat. With that realization comes the memory of Al telling him that both Erin and Kim survived. At least for now. But that Kim had been so badly injured, bleeding into her brain, that she might never wake up. That if she did she might not be the Kim they knew.

He remembers Adam attacking him at the hospital. And he knows Adam was right. It was his job to show Kim the ropes, to get her settled into Intelligence. To not get her blown up on her third day with them. He knows Kim is no rookie cop, that she is capable of holding her own, but she is new to these kinds of highly dangerous busts. And he failed at protecting her.

Erin on the other hand is something completely different. She should have known better than to just bust in there, and he just can’t figure out why she did it. Sure, they all wanted to get Walker. His CI was only someone he killed by pulling the trigger, making it more personal for Jay than the others. But they had all been affected by the many youths dying of overdoses, none of them connected to the same dealer. They needed Walker to squeeze him for information. To get to the bottom of these overdoses. And even though all these dead teenagers and young adults leaves them reeling, they’ve all seen worse. So, why did Erin do this? Did she just move in because he said to hold? Was this just another of her petty ways to undermine him?

He tries to shake the memory of their bust to get into the here and now, but the images of Erin going down and quickly afterwards Kim being thrown through the air by the explosion like a ragdoll have been burned into his mind. He can still feel the heat of the blast, the power that swept him off his feet, slamming him into that shelf.

He hadn’t blacked out completely. Seconds after his head had hit the ground, he had heard the team entering the warehouse. Shouts of “Police” had filled the air, and the gunfire had renewed for a few moments before silence had settled over them. When his ears stopped ringing and the pain in his back and side had abated a little, he had made his way off the ground a little shakily, looking around the warehouse. Adam was at Kim’s side, Kevin at Erin’s. Voight was coordinating with the unis, overseeing the removal of the few goons that had surrendered, but Jay could see the fire in Voight’s eyes even from this far away. Him and Erin would have to do a lot of explaining.

But first, there had been a lot of shouting directed at him, drawing curious looks from the unis. Erin ranting at him before passing out due to blood loss and being transported to the hospital. Adam accusing him of getting Kim killed. And at last Voight. For not listening to his order, for going in without backup, for being a reckless adrenaline junky who only thinks of himself and his revenge. For shooting Walker instead of arresting him, and this way robbing them of the chance to solve this case. He didn’t even give Jay the chance to explain what happened, just ordered him to stay at the scene, collect the evidence and give it over to the unit that would be investigating the shooting. Jay knows Voight was just scared for Erin, but it still hurts that his boss readily jumped to the conclusion that it was Jay that wouldn’t wait for backup. That Voight thinks so little of him, that he would compromise a case just to get a little revenge for the death of his CI.

Lately it seems he can’t do anything right. Not with Erin. Not with Voight. Not with Will.

The pain in his head pulls his mind away from the scene of this morning and back to his current predicament. Without moving, he listens to the sounds around him. He remembers the dark alley and his two attackers. He doesn’t think they are still here. They probably left him for dead. Mission accomplished. But he still strains to hear if there are any sounds around him, telling him that he’s not alone. But it’s quiet where he is, except for the cars he can hear passing in a distance, people talking and laughing, the usual Friday night crowd. Nobody seems to be around him, though.

Still not opening his eyes, he tries to take inventory of his body. Apart from the pounding in his head, his left eye feels swollen and shut, and he’s pretty sure something is wrong with his jaw. Maybe it’s broken. Or dislocated. But pain explodes as soon as he even moves a muscle. Breathing hurts, more on his left side than on his right, which is the side he already had a cracked rib from the GSW. His right- hand throbs in sync with his head and his heartbeat, and that’s before he even tries to move his fingers. The pain explodes when he tries, moving up his arm and leaving him panting.

When the pain dies down a notch, he slowly opens his right eye. It’s dark around him, and everything looks fuzzy. He blinks a few times and the blurriness fades a little, letting him realize he’s lying on the ground behind what he supposes is a large dumpster. The smell alone would have him feel nauseated if he didn’t have a concussion already. He swallows down the rising bile and tries to look past the dumpster to get his mind off the smell and the urge to vomit. In the distance, he can see the light of streetlamps. A street. With people. Help is close. All he needs to do is call out.

He tries to sit up, pushing himself up with his good left hand, and that’s when a white, hot pain explodes in his body, sending him straight back into oblivion.

His right eye blinks open again, and he’s still lying on his back in the dark alley behind the dumpster. The pain is still there but a little more dulled. He lifts his left hand and tries to find out where this all-encompassing pain is coming from. He starts at his head where there’s still the drum solo going on inside, carefully feeling at the left side of his face that feels numb. His fingers touch the swollen jaw, feel the sticky substance that tells him there is blood, feels the bones moving beneath his skin. This is really bad, but it’s not the source of the excruciating pain.

His hand keeps moving, down over his torso and abdomen until his fingers meet warm and sticky wetness. More blood, his brain translates, and he knows he’s found the source of the persisting pain that is rolling through his left side. He tries to assess where the blood is coming from, but there’s just so much of it, coating his left side, soaking his shirt making it stick to his skin. He thinks his index finger slides over torn fabric, but he can’t be sure, can’t discern how many holes there are, how many times he has been stabbed. Because that’s what he thinks he remembers. Two men, Freddy and Mike, needing to eliminate him to make a problem they have with a guy named Jason go away. And one of them, he thinks it was Freddy, stabbed him repeatedly. He lost count and consciousness after the knife was ripped out of him for the third time. But that probably wasn’t the last time, just the last time he was conscious for.

And now he remembers the reason he was in that dark alley in the first place. Marty and the information he gave Jay, solving the case. He remembers rounding the dumpster and seeing Marty’s lifeless form on the ground, blood surrounding his head like a halo. But before he had been able to check on Marty, his own lights had gone out. Maybe Marty is still alive, lying right next to him, clinging to life and hoping for Jay to make good on his promise to save him.

“Mar’y!” His voice sounds hoarse and slurred, the left side of his face not doing as his brain orders, and a tiny voice in his head tells him that it doesn’t matter anyway. That the man he promised to keep safe is dead. Jay tries to look around but it’s too dark to see more than shadows, and he doesn’t think he’s in any condition to move around to look for Marty. He closes his eye and takes a deep breath. It hurts to breathe deeply, pain flaring up in his back as well as his side where the bullets found new homes in his plates, but also where the stab wounds sit and bleed.

Feeling around his left side with his good hand, he thinks he can make out at least four of them, all of them oozing his blood slowly out of his body. He tries to put pressure on them, but the dull and throbbing pain in his side increases with the pressure, and his vision starts to black out. Easing up a little, not wanting to lose consciousness again, he once more takes a look around. No one is here. The alley is deserted. Even the street in the distance doesn’t seem to be frequented by passers-by that much anymore.

Slowly, he tries to adjust his position. Holding his side with his right-hand hurts like hell, but he breathes through it and starts to push himself up a little to scoot back to the wall, leaning against it, panting. Pulling his knees up releases a little tension from his screaming abdominal muscles and helps to put pressure on the wounds. He holds tight to consciousness, and finally the pain tones down to a bearable level.

He just sits there breathing, his head leaned back against the wall and his eyes closed, and he can feel the warm wetness that’s oozing over his broken fingers slowing a little. A small smile crosses his face when he thinks of the epic lecture he would get from Will if his brother saw him like that. A mix of brotherly fear and exasperation for Jay to get himself into a situation like that, mingled with a good dose of doctorly panic at all the blood and injuries.

As soon as the thought crosses his mind, a sadness seeps into Jay when he remembers that Will hasn’t talked to him in four weeks. And Jay can’t even be mad at Will. His brother had been so pissed at him last time he saw him, and he hadn’t held back in expressing his anger. Jay knows Will has every right to be pissed at him, but still the words had hurt. And Jay’s mind goes back to the night when he had seen his brother last.

“What the fuck, Jay?”

Will storms past Jay into his apartment, fuming. Jay knows what this is about. He already feels like shit about it, but his head is pounding from the massive hangover and the dehydration making him feel even more miserable. But he knows he deserves it. The hangover as well as Will’s anger, knows he let his brother down. As soon as Jay has closed the door, Will rounds on him.

“I met Voight yesterday. At the gala. The one you couldn’t go to because your unit was tied up in a case.”

Well, shit. Game’s up. He never anticipated Voight attending the charity gala.

Will glares at him. “I can’t believe that you lied to me about this. And idiot that I am, I believed you. I know how you hate these kinds of thing and that you really didn’t want to come. But I needed you there. And I thought you would do that for me.”

Jay stays silent. What can he say? Yes, he doesn’t like black tie events like this with all of Chicago’s high society in attendance. But he knew it was a big opportunity for Will. That he needed to look good for the board of directors. That he was master of ceremony, and that this was apparently a big deal for Will. And he had promised his brother to be there. To support him. And the only excuse for not being there would have been work.

“Why couldn’t you just get over yourself and think of me for once? I really needed you to be there. To support me. And you couldn’t even do that!” Will starts to pace the length of Jay’s apartment. “And to top it all off, you lied to my face! Told me you had a case.” He shakes his head. “Boy, did Voight look surprised when I asked him about it.”

He stops right in front of Jay, and Jay can see the anger and hurt in his brother’s eyes.

“Look, Will, I…”

I… what? What can he offer his brother to make this less shitty? That he couldn’t handle the large crowd of people, making small talk, smiling and being pleasant? That he was afraid he would just snap at people, hurting Will’s reputation even more as it would not showing up at all? That he would have gotten shit-faced drunk without having any control over himself anymore? No. He couldn’t tell Will any of that. He couldn’t tell Will that Erin left him only a few hours before they were supposed to be at the gala. That he had planned to propose to her at the end of the evening. And instead was left standing in his hallway, dressed in a nice suit, feeling like his heart had just been ripped out, and he was bleeding all over the place.

He knew how important the gala was for Will, and he even got as far as his door to leave. But he got a good look at himself in the mirror, and what he saw was definitely not socially acceptable. The scowl on his face he wasn’t even aware he was making would scare people off. And that was him trying to act normal. Acting nice was so far out of his ability at that moment that he saw only one solution. So, he had pulled out his phone and called his brother, telling him his unit had caught an important case, and that he was sorry he couldn’t make it, but that he was proud of Will and that he would be doing great.

After that, he doesn’t remember much. There had been a lot of drinking and at some point smashing of things. And maybe a little vomiting at the end, too. At least that’s what his apartment told him this morning.

But how can he tell all that to Will who isn’t even willing to listen to him?

“I’m sorry.”

Will shakes his head. “Sorry is not enough, Jay. This was one of the most important evenings in my career, and I counted on my brother to be there for me. And you bailed out. You couldn’t put me before yourself for just one evening. I can’t even tell you how hurt I am. Disappointed doesn’t even grasp it anymore.” He storms to the door. “And I can’t be around you at the moment. Don’t call me! I’ll let you know when I’ve calmed down enough to talk to you again.“ Will rushes out the door, and it slams shut behind him, leaving Jay in his empty apartment wondering if he just lost his brother in addition to his girlfriend.

He can still feel the reverberation of the slamming door. It’s been four weeks since the gala. Four weeks of radio silence between him and Will. And he misses his brother, but has honored his wishes. Hasn’t called. Or texted. He just hopes Will will give him the opportunity to explain everything one day.

A small huff of a laughter escapes him as he realizes that if he doesn’t get medical attention soon, he won’t get the opportunity to explain anything to anyone. And he can’t let that happen. He won’t leave Will behind being pissed at him without knowing the reason for his actions, won’t let his brother beat himself up about the unknown.

He opens his eye again, seeking out the street in the distance. There still are a few people, he just has to call out.

“’llo?” It’s quiet and raspy and it triggers a coughing fit, sending spasms of pain through his head and side, leaving him gasping for breath. When he’s finally done and able to draw in a sufficient amount of air again, there is a coppery taste in his mouth, and he isn’t sure if it comes from his broken jaw or if the knife nicked his lung.

“HELP!” It’s useless. His voice is too quiet to be heard at the intersection. He needs to get there by himself.

Taking another deep breath, he starts pushing himself up against the wall. His back scrapes against the uneven wall, making his aches from the bullet wound and the kicks administered by Freddy and Mike flare up in addition to everything else. His whole body hurts, and as soon as he is in an upright position, he doubles over, clutching at his mid section that is throbbing relentlessly. He has never felt this much pain in his life, and he’s been through some tough shit. But he also knows, if he doesn’t get help, he won’t make it. He needs to get to the street, to get noticed by passers-by, to get help. His left hand reaches out to grab the dumpster for support. He can do this.

He only makes it about ten steps closer to the alley before his knees buckle, and he falls down hard. With no strength left to catch himself, he hits the ground with a thud and loses his fragile grasp on reality.

His right eye blinks open and he doesn’t know where he is. It’s dark around him and it smells bad. There is some slimy substance covering his face, and the scent of it makes him wanna puke.

He knows he lies on his left side, and his right hand moves to his face to wipe away the gooey stuff. As soon as his fingers make contact with his face pain explodes in his hand, racing up his arm, and he sucks in a pained breath, letting himself fall onto his back.

Which is the worst move he’s ever made. Pain suddenly explodes all over his body, from his head to his jaw and his side. The nauseating smell is back, and he knows he won’t be able to hold back this time. Desperately trying to turn to his right side, he only manages to turn his head enough to not choke on the vomit.

When there is no more disgusting liquid coming out of his mouth, his mind comes slowly back online. Remembering about his shitty day, he looks up and behind him to the crossroad where he needs to be. It’s only about 20 yards away, but it feels like another planet. Staying as still as possible, the pain slowly settles down, and he’s able to turn to his right side. The one that doesn’t feel like molten lava.

Keeping his goal in his line of vision, he starts to crawl. His mind is focused on nothing else but crawling, if you can even call it that. His feet push him weakly forward while his right arm tries to pull him closer to his goal. He only makes it a few feet before his strength leaves him completely, and he has to lower his head down onto his right arm.

Drawing in one shuddering breath after the other, he looks longingly at the intersection that is so close and yet so far away. He’s not ready to give up yet and decides to just rest for a minute. There must be a way to get back to his team. To his friends. Even though the team hasn’t felt the same lately. Not since Erin broke it off.

He still doesn’t know why she suddenly decided to end things between them. Ever since she came back after Nadia’s death, he thought they were good. That they shared a special bond. The fingers of his left-hand brush lightly over his pants pocket where the little pouch with the ring still sits. He’s just glad he was spared the embarrassment of his proposal being rejected. It had hurt enough as it was.

Even though he really doesn’t like black-tie events he was kind of looking forward to it. To be with Erin, both of them in evening wear, good food, cultured company. They could make fun of everyone together. And it would have set the right mood for what he had planned afterwards.

But Erin came over a few hours before they were supposed to leave for the gala, and while they were talking about the coming evening, she suddenly turned towards him and told him that it was over. And before he could even ask if she was serious, she had told him that it was not open for debate. That she was going now and that they would be seeing each other back at work on Monday.

He thinks he had stood there for ten whole minutes after Erin had left, waiting for her to return to tell him she was just joking or for someone to come in and show him where the hidden cameras were. But nothing of that sort happened. She just left him. Without an explanation. Just like that. Like discarded trash.

Every attempt of him to talk to her about it, to get her reasons, ended the same way. Her yelling at him to leave her alone or she would write him up for sexual harassment. So, he backed off and acted professional around her. Friendly but professional, hiding his pain behind a mask. Sadly, Erin hadn’t done him the same curtsey. She had been passive aggressive, bossing him around and making him look bad wherever possible without blowback for her. And he can’t fathom the reason for it. For any of it. He has racked his brain, gone over every interaction with her to find something he had done to warrant her behavior. But there is just nothing.

He sighs, trying to take a deeper breath but that only results in blood filling his mouth. He spits out the disgusting liquid and finally makes the connection to the sticky substance on his face. It’s still too dark to see anything, but he imagines he must look a horrible mess. Covered in blood, torn clothes and he’s sure he must be leaving a bloody trail.

Resigned to take on his Herculean task, he starts crawling again. He makes it even less far before he has to stop again. And still the street corner with its light and the prospect of help is too far away. It’s not so much the pain that makes him stop. He just doesn’t seem to have any strength left. His muscles don’t obey his commands anymore, and his breathing is fast and shallow.

He wants to keep going, wants to keep crawling towards the light. But his body doesn’t respond anymore. There are white spots dancing before his eyes and he realizes that this is as far as he will go.

His sluggish mind wanders to the people in his life. Out of all of them, the only one who would really miss him would be Mouse. And he isn’t really in his life anymore, is he? Jay knows Mouse will be back stateside in a little over a week for his two weeks leave, and they had planned to meet up. It breaks his heart to disappoint his brother, knowing how hard it will hit Mouse if Jay is gone.

He doesn’t think the rest of the team will really miss him. Erin has turned them slowly against him. They are not really hostile towards him, just indifferent. And Will? They had grown closer again over the last years, but with how hurt Will was over the gala thing, he isn’t sure how much Will will really miss him.

He’s just so tired now. He can feel the clammy wetness of his shirt and pants, feels a coldness spread through him and fear settle in the pit of his stomach. He doesn’t want to die alone, and he never imagined it being like this. Stabbed in an alley, discarded like trash and forgotten. But his eye closes without his consent, breathing is more strenuous than he can manage and the darkness calls for him.

A single tear slips past his closed lids.

So, this is how his life ends. Not with a bang but a whimper.

“Hey, Ricky.”

There is an annoying patting on his cheek. It doesn’t really hurt. Nothing really hurts anymore, but it’s still unnerving. And he is surprised that he is still alive to feel unnerved.

“Come on, Ricky. Open your eyes.”

He knows that voice. It’s been a long time since he’s heard it. And it triggers a cascade of emotions. Sadness and fear, guilt and loss. But he knows it’s the voice of a friend. Of a brother. Why is he here now?

Opening his eye, he squints into the face looming above him in the first light of morning. “Ger’?”

The face looks different than he remembers. Older. Gaunt and haunted. But it still is the familiar face of his friend.

“Hey, Ricky.” The smile lights up the dirty face that is framed by matted and unkempt hair.

Jay slowly raises his hand, shakily closing in on the face until it touches the shaggy beard. He flinches back when his broken fingers make contact, letting his hand fall back onto the ground with a soft thud. “You real?”

“Yeah. I’m real.” The face smiles a little, but he can see worry lines forming, too.

Jay’s not sure he can believe it, but it doesn’t really matter. Slowly, he lets his eye fall closed again.

“Hey, hey.” The patting is back, and Jay struggles to blink. “Stay awake. I called for help. The 911-lady said it would take a little while, but help is coming.”

“Doesn’t matter…” Jay can hear that it’s more of a slur than actual words, but he’s sure Gerry will understand.

Gerry. Fuck.

He remembers the man all too well. One of the best medics he ever had the honor to serve with. He was the reason Jay survived one of the worst days during his Ranger time. Gerry, who had saved countless lives that horrible day and ended up fighting for his own life. Because Jay had been too slow to protect him. Same as with Kim. And Erin.

The last time he had seen Gerry was when they loaded him into the medevac chopper, and Jay had been sure that his would be another funeral he would have to attend. But Gerry had survived somehow, got medically discharged. And now he is here with him again.

“Why ‘r’ yo’ he’?” It is hard to talk, his jaw and tongue don’t obey the orders from his brain. He tries to take a deep breath, but that’s nearly impossible, too.

Gerry looks at him, and Jay’s not sure if he reads that emotion right. He almost looks a little embarrassed. “I found you. This… I…well… I live here… sort of.”

Jay’s eye looks down from the familiar face to the rest of the man, only now noticing the shabby and dirty clothes. And the empty sleeve of the right arm.

“’m s’ry.” And he means it. He’s sorry about all of it. About not protecting him as he should have as his team leader. About not bringing all of him home. About never finding out what happened to him after his discharge.

“Not your fault.”

Jay disagrees, but there is suddenly pain again on his left side as something presses down hard, and it leaves him breathless. He tries to move away, but his body doesn’t respond much.

“Don’t move, buddy. You lost too much blood. I know it’s hard, but just keep breathing. Help is on the way.”

“’s too late, doc…” Jay closes his eye, too tired and cold. He just wants to sleep and not talk or think. Because talking is exhausting. Thinking is exhausting. Hell, just existing is exhausting. And he has nothing left to fight the exhaustion. “Nothin’ lef’ to fight for.”

He must have said the last part out loud, because Gerry squeezes his shoulder lightly and starts talking.

“I know the feeling. That’s how I ended up here. After they amputated my arm, my life ended. I was hooked up on pain killers and didn’t want to come off the wagon. My wife left, and I lost everything. And every day I wake up, I feel guilty. For living while others didn’t. And for not making anything of these days I was gifted with. And it makes me want to escape again.” Gerry pauses, and Jay wonders where he’s going with this. He’s all too familiar with the guilt of surviving that horrible day while so many of his team didn’t. That ambush was one of the things he tried so hard to forget at the bottom of a bottle in the early days of his discharge. And he had thought he made peace with it a long time ago.

“But you know what?” Gerry’s voice, that suddenly sounds so much more cheerful, pulls him away from his darker thoughts. “After all these dark years, there is some light again. My daughter is getting married. And she wants me there. To walk her down the aisle. But she made it clear that she will only have me there if I’m sober. So, I’ve been going to these meetings. And it helps. A little. But I know I can make it. Now I only have to figure out, how to get a suit for the celebration.”

Jay can hear the smile in Gerry’s voice, as well as the anxiety of not being able to make himself presentable. Jay shifts a little, and it hurts, but he knows how he can help Gerry. How he can maybe even atone a little for his failure. With a lot of effort, he pulls the little sack out of his left pants pocket. Jay’s not sure if the little pouch really is soaked or if his hands are just moist and sticky from his blood, but he places it on top of Gerry’s hand that still presses down onto Jay’s side.

With his last strength, he blinks his eye open again, looking into Gerry’s surprised eyes. “Sell… the ring… get…a nice… suit… ‘n’ be… with yu’ fam’ly.”

“I can’t take this!” Gerry looks down to the pouch and back at Jay, shaking his head. “You bought that for someone special. And you’ll give it to that someone once you’re done licking your wounds.”

“Jus’ take’t. Do somethin’ good with it.” Jay closes his eye again. “Don’ need ‘t no more. I wasn’ spec’l ‘nough for her.”

He feels Gerry take the little sack before the pressure to his side returns. Even though he knows it’s too late, he appreciates the effort. That he’s not alone.

He can still hear Gerry talking. But even though it sounds urgent, Jay just can’t find it in him to respond anymore. Because he has realized that this is it. The end. And he’s okay with that.

There is no pain anymore, and he doesn’t feel cold either. Breathing is hard, and the coppery taste in his mouth isn’t his favorite, but all in all, it’s not so bad. And now that he’s not alone anymore, he isn’t even afraid.

He feels at peace.

So, he just lets go.

Chapter Text

Wednesday, June 27th

Will takes two steps at a time, reaching the entrance hall of the 21^st and steps in line to the desk, waiting for Sergeant Platt to finish the dress down of two of her officers.

It’s been too long since he last talked to his brother, and he knows it’s his own fault. He had been so angry at Jay for bailing on him on the night of the gala. The whole evening had him stressed out, wanting everything to be perfect as it had been his responsibility. And Jay knew all about this, and still lied to him to not come to the event.

It took Will quite a while to take a step back from his hurt and anger to realize that this was not who his brother is. Especially since Jay knew how important all of this was for him, for his career. Jay wouldn’t just bail out without a good reason, but Will never gave Jay a chance to explain. Now that he’s able to look back to the day of their fight without the tunnel vision of rage and hurt feelings, he realizes how devastated his brother had looked. Pale faced and sweaty with red-rimmed eyes should have told Will that there was more to the story than just Jay’s aversion to upper-class people and their gatherings. Jay had been dealing with something big but wouldn’t share it with Will. And who could blame him after how dickish Will had behaved? It looked more and more like Will had been the one who couldn’t put his brother before his own selfish needs, not Jay. And Will should have come to this conclusion a lot sooner, because that’s just who his brother is. He would always put other people’s needs before his own. And if Jay needed to work his own problem that evening, he might have protected Will from this by staying away.

Will sighs deeply. The longer he has been thinking about this, the guiltier he feels. How didn’t he see that his little brother was struggling? How could he kick him when he was already down?

He has been trying to reach his brother for the last few days, hoping to make amends, to apologize and maybe even help Jay if he still needs it. Assuming he still accepts help from his selfish older brother. Because every time Will has called, it went unanswered straight to voicemail. Same for his visits at various hours of the day. Today Will has had enough and used his key to enter Jay’s apartment. It was empty, and there was nothing out of the ordinary, neat and clean as ever. But the air was stale, and there was a thin layer of dust everywhere, like Jay hadn’t been home in a while.

And this is the reason for his stop at the 21^st. Because the only reason Will can think of why Jay wouldn’t have been home for a while, would be an undercover assignment. And his team might be able to give him a timeframe when to expect Jay back from this, and therefore the time Will has to wait to make it right with his little brother.

“Dr. Halstead. How can I help you?”

Will steps closer to the desk, trying for a winning smile. But before he can start to explain to Trudy why he’s here, a heavy hand lands on his shoulder.

“Hey, Will. How are you, man? Haven’t seen you around in a while!”

Will turns and smiles at the newcomers. “Hey, Adam. Kevin.”

Kevin nods at Trudy. “We’ll take him up.”

Will is grateful for Kevin’s words, as he’s not sure Sergeant Platt has ever forgiven him for the little prank he played on her when they first met. He waves a goodbye at the grumpy desk sergeant, follows the two men up the stairs and gives Adam a soft pat on the shoulder. “How’s Kim doing? I heard she woke up yesterday.”

Adam’s face lights up. “Yeah, she did. She’s mostly out of it, but given the circumstances she’s doing great. She recognized us but isn’t able to talk yet. And her doctors are optimistic that she might make a full recovery, but it’ll be a long hard road.”

“Glad to hear she’s doing better.” They enter the bullpen, and Will notices instantly that his brother isn’t here. Focusing back on Adam, he gives him a sympathetic smile. “I know it didn’t look good at the beginning.”

Adam shakes his head, a dark scowl crossing his face. “It didn’t. I was convinced we’d lose her.”

Kevin sees the direction his friend’s thoughts start to drift, and he changes the subject. “So, what brings you here today?”

Will heaves a deep sigh. “I’m looking for my brother. We had a really messy fight a few weeks back, and I was really pissed at him, so I wasn’t talking to him. I tried to contact him a few days ago but his phone goes directly to voicemail, and he didn’t answer his door. At first, I thought he was just being a dick and avoiding me, but I went into his apartment today, and it looks like he’s been gone for a while. That’s what brought me here. I just wanted to know if there is a rough time frame when he’ll be back from his uc assignment.” Looking around, Will can see that the door to Hank’s office is closed, two figures sitting in there absorbed in deep conversation. Probably Hank and Al. A white caseboard loaded with pictures, facts and wild scribbling stands in the corner.

Will turns back to see the flash of anger crossing Adam’s face and the confusion on Kevin’s, both exchanging a look Will can’t decipher. “What?”

“He’s not on an uc assignment, Will.” Kevin explains while Will sees Adam clenching his fists at his side, trying to take calming breaths. “He’s been suspended. Haven’t seen him since.”

Will staggers back, leaning heavily on one of the desks. “He’s been suspended? Since when?”

Kevin squints at Adam, then back to Will. “Since the day of the shooting.”

“But that was over a week ago!” Will counts back in his head to that busy day, to all the drama and trauma rolling through his ED on that day. Seeing Kim lying there on that stretcher, bleeding heavily from several wounds with embedded shrapnel as well as a large wound on her head, was a real shock. They nearly lost her right there in his treatment room. But they managed to stabilize her enough to get her to the OR, and for once he was more than glad to hand this particular patient over safely to the OR team. Only to come back to find Erin in her treatment room trying to sign out AMA despite the severe GSW to her side. Lucky for all of them, she passed out the second she got up from the gurney due to all the blood loss. They got her stable enough for the OR quickly, but calming down Hank simultaneously had been his biggest achievement that day.

He doesn’t even remember seeing Jay in the waiting room, but he’s sure he must have been there. No way his brother wouldn’t be there for his teammates, supporting them, wanting to know how they were doing. But his busy day hadn’t stopped with shipping Erin off to the OR, and he had just lost track of time, and his brother had slipped his mind. Until later that day, after his shift, when he debated if he was still too pissed off to call Jay and ask how he was doing after that horrendous day. He had decided that yes, he was still too pissed to be any support for Jay – a tiny petty voice in his head whispering that Jay hadn’t supported him either –, and that his brother had enough friends that would be there for him. Voight’s team is close-knit. They would give him support if he needed it.

“Yeah, nearly two weeks, actually.” Kevin looks down, looking a little embarrassed. “I haven’t heard from him since. I texted him a few times, but he didn’t answer.” He shrugs.

“Don’t be embarrassed. He deserved what he got!” Adam’s outburst surprises Will. “And now he’s just sulking.”

“What do you mean?” Will looks from an angry Adam to an awkward Kevin. “What did he do to be suspended?”

“He shot our only lead in this case, blowing it sky high, and we’re nowhere nearer to closing the case. Kids are still dying of the poisoned drugs without us being any the wiser how the poison even gets into the drugs!” It seems like this is what Adam has been waiting for for the last 12 days. “And Jay’s the reason Kim and Erin were injured this badly in the first place. If he had just waited for 15 more minutes, we would have been there, too, and none of this would have happened. 15 minutes!!! But no! He had to play the hero and avenge his little CI. And now Kim has to learn how to talk and walk again like a little baby. And Erin is so traumatized that she’s been talking of leaving Intelligence!” Adam has to take a deep breath and huffs out a snort. “So, if you ask me, he deserved being suspended as much as being thrown off the team!” He shakes his head and adds in a lower voice, “He’s probably stranded in some bar, shitfaced drunk and throwing himself one hell of a pity party.”

Will is taken aback by Adam’s strong outburst before the words register in his mind. “Wait! Hank threw him off the team?”

Kevin nods, still looking more embarrassed even though Will is not sure it’s because of Adam’s outburst or this whole fiasco of Jay’s suspension and booting from the team.

“And neither one of you has heard anything from him in the last 12 days?”

Kevin nods again, a little uneasy this time.

“Look, I know you are pissed at him. But all of you should know that this isn’t how Jay works. If he fucks up, he stands up for it and doesn’t crawl into a bottle. He has done that before and learned his lesson.” Will looks from Kevin to Adam. “His truck isn’t at his apartment, and his phone goes directly to voicemail. Aren’t you worried something might have happened to him?”

“To the big strong macho Ranger?” Adam huffs out a humorless laugh. “Absolutely not. Just means he left to have the pity party somewhere else, doesn’t it?”

The door to Hank’s office opens, and the two men step out. Al nods at Will, stepping aside to his desk, while Hank stops and crosses his arms. “What is this shouting all about?”

Adam huffs, shaking his head and starts pacing away from Hank. Kevin shuffles his feet, not ready to tell on his friend. Will clears his throat, a little uneasy under Hank’s steely gaze. How does his brother deal with this on a daily basis? “I came looking for Jay.”

“He doesn’t work here anymore.” Hank’s voice is icy and final.

“Yeah, I heard that from Adam and Kev. It just seems strange that no one has heard anything from him since the day of the shooting.”

Hank just stares at Will, unmoving. “He’ll turn up when he finishes throwing his little temper tantrum,” he huffs out. “He better get his shit together. The committee is ready to make its ruling of the shooting. He should be present for that. Don’t think they’ll look too kindly if he turns up drunk. It’s his future they’re deciding on.” Hank turns and walks back into his office, closing the door.

Will is astounded by Hank’s hostility. He’d thought Jay was getting along with his sergeant just fine in the last months. As far as he knew, Jay still struggles sometimes with Hank bending the rules to his convenience, but on a larger scale Jay seemed to trust his sergeant.

Al rolls away from his desk to look at Will. “You haven’t heard from Jay, either?”

Now it’s Will’s turn to look embarrassed. “No. We had a bit of a nasty argument a few weeks ago, haven’t spoken since. I tried to contact him the last few days, but the calls all went directly to voicemail. His apartment is empty and not lived in. So, I thought he might be on an uc or something. That’s why I came here.”

Will can see concern starting to form on Al’s face. He picks up his phone and dials, putting it on speakerphone. As soon as the line connects, voicemail picks it up. “Hmmm, strange.”

Kevin steps to his own desk, picks up the phone and talks to someone in muted voices. When he hangs up, his face shows concern as well. “His phone’s turned off, can’t be pinged. Has been off for the last 11 days. Last location is here.” Kevin turns his computer screen to them, showing a map of Chicago with a red dot right in the middle of it. Will’s not so sure where exactly that is, but it looks like one of those streets where one bar hugs the next. Maybe Adam is right, and Jay is on a binge-drinking spree, losing his phone along the way. Would be out of character for him, but you never knew. Jay might have ended up in one of the many hospitals Chicago has, and he says so. Kevin and Al look at him, worry lines on their faces.

“I’ll find out.” Will pulls out his phone and starts making calls. He has friends in most of Chicago’s hospitals, smaller and larger ones. With every negative response, Will’s heart lightens a little. At least his brother doesn’t lie forgotten somewhere in a lonely hospital bed. When he finishes with his last call, he can see Al hanging up the phone, too. “Jay didn’t end up in any of the other hospitals in Chicago.”

“He didn’t end up in the morgue either.” Al quietly supplies.

The three men exchange wary looks. None of them ready to take this too seriously, now that the worst-case scenarios are already off the table, but all of them not liking this either. Where would Jay go?

Will’s gaze lands on Adam who steps back and waves his hands. “Don’t count on me to look for him. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive him for nearly getting Kim killed.”

Will just nods. He can understand Adam to some degree. He knows Adam and Kim are not together anymore, but that doesn’t mean they are not close. Adam cares for Kim a lot, and she got hurt. Of course, Adam isn’t too eager to help the man responsible for Kim’s injuries. It still stings that Adam so readily discards his friendship with his little brother, without having even the slightest shred of doubt. But he’s done the same thing, so he can’t really judge.

Kevin and Al step closer to Will. “I’ll try to locate his truck. Maybe that helps locating Jay.”

While they crowd around Kevin, Will lowers his voice. “How is Erin doing?”

Al’s eyes turn a little colder. “She signed out AMA two days after the surgery and has been home with Hank for now. She told him, that she wants to relocate to New York, try for the FBI field office. To have an eye on her mom. But…”

“But what?”

“Not sure that’s the real reason for her to leave. I mean, her version of events of that day, they just…. I don’t know…” Al trails off, and at the same time as Kevin calls out “Gotcha.”

Will and Al turn to Kevin, who looks up at them, the triumphant smile fading from his face. “Found Jay’s truck. It’s been towed 10 days ago and has been in one of our inpounds ever since.”

“But…“ Will feels confused.

Al turns to Kev. “Does it say where it has been towed?”

Kevin nods. “Yeah. Just around the corner from where his phone had last contact.”

“Are there any cameras nearby?”

Kevin scrolls through the data until he finds a traffic camera that should show the street where Jay’s truck had been towed. He scrolls through the days until he finds the right footage for the day of the towing and lets it roll. The picture is grainy and shows the length of the street, but they can make out Jay’s truck parked at the end. Kevin fast forwards until they can see the tow truck arrive and get to work.

“Can you go back to when the truck was parked there?” Will is eager to lay eyes on his brother.

Kevin rolls the footage back until it arrives at the evening of the bad bust. Around ten o ‘clock they can see Jay’s truck roll into the frame and park at the far end. They see someone exiting the truck, probably Jay, but the footage is too fuzzy to make out faces. Jay moves away from his truck to the opposite site of the road and disappears out of frame.

“Where did he go?”

Kevin shrugs. “Don’t know, Will.”

Al points to where Jay left. “Fast forward. Let’s see if he comes back to his truck before it gets towed.” They scrutinize the footage but can’t see Jay coming back. “Is there another camera? Closer to where the truck was parked?”

Kevin scrolls through the cameras, but shakes his head. “No, the next one is at that intersection. Don’t think Jay parked his car that far away to walk through there.”

Al and Will nod. “What else can we do?” Will is anxious. His brother was right there. And it didn’t look like he went in any of the bars. Where did he go? Why didn’t he come back to his truck?

Al takes his coat. “Let’s go. Have a look at that street.”

Will follows Kevin and Al down the stairs, taking a glance back at the bullpen. Adam sits at his desk, still looking angry, pretending to do some paperwork. Hank’s office door isn’t closed anymore, but there is no sign of Hank.

They get into Kevin’s truck and start the drive through town. There’s a tense silence in the car, all of them lost in thought, trying to fight the sense of foreboding the closer they get to the place where Jay’s car had been towed.

“It’s been 12 days, Will.“ Kevin looks back to Will through the mirror. “There might not be anything to find there.”

Will nods. He knows that. And he also knows if his brother doesn’t want to be found that they won’t be able to locate him. But his gut tells him that this is not the case. That they need to hurry. That his brother needs them now because it’s almost too late.

Kevin parks at nearly the exact same spot as Jay had, and the three of them get out. They make their way to the other side of the street and start walking in the direction Jay had until they reach the point where the camera didn’t see him anymore. There is nothing there. Just one bar next to the other. Some of them are open despite the time of day.

“Nothing unusual here.” Al and Kevin look at each other, unsure how to proceed. “We can talk to the bartenders in the bars that are open. Maybe one of them has seen Jay.”

They all agree and split up to cover more ground. With every negative answer, Will gets more dispirited. Jay can’t just have vanished from the face of the earth! Where the hell did he go?

He meets with Al and Kevin back outside again, both of them having gotten the same results.

Kevin points at a bakery on the other side of the street. “Looks like they have a camera out front. Let’s ask if we can look at the footage.”

They move over to the little bakery and enter the cozy little shop. Kevin steps up to the older lady behind the counter, flashing his badge. “Ma’am, we’re Officer Atwater and Detective Olinsky with the Chicago Police. You have a camera out front?”

She smiles at him and nods. “Yes, for protection when we’re open late.”

“We are looking for a friend of ours. Would you mind if we looked at your footage, see if he’s on that?”

“Of course, you can have a look.” She leads them into the backroom and shows them the computer. “It’s all on there.” She watches as Kevin sits down and starts pulling up files. “Has this something to do with the murder that happened on the other side of the street?”

All three men turn to her abruptly, staring horrified at the news, but Al is the first to find his voice. “What murder?”

She looks a little taken back by their strong reaction, but finds her smile. “There was a big commotion in one of the alleys a little over a week ago. And people say someone was murdered there. This is usually a pretty safe neighborhood, but with all the bars around here, and people drinking a lot… Well, you know how it can go.”

Al pulls out a picture of Jay and shows it to the lady. “Was this the man who was murdered?”

“I’m sorry, I really don’t know. It’s just what I heard.”

Meanwhile, Kevin has found the footage of the evening they were looking for. The camera focuses more on the street right outside the bakery, but they can see a man of Jay’s build enter the picture frame at the right time. The person slows when he reaches the entrance to a side street, takes a careful look around before he enters it and disappears from view.

Will watches in desperation as Kevin forwards the footage, but Jay doesn’t come back out. Al takes Will’s arm. “Come on, let’s have a look at that alley and let Kevin scroll through the footage. Maybe he’ll find something.”

Kevin nods in acknowledgement, and Will follows Al out of the bakery and to the small side alley.

Even in broad daylight the alley is only dimly lit, obstructed by large dumpsters that are emitting a nauseating smell. Will wrinkles his nose at the stench, but Al moves further in without moving a muscle. Will doesn’t know what Al hopes to find here. It’s been nearly two weeks since Jay disappeared from here. The dumpsters will have been emptied since, and a lot of people have been through here.

Al stops after the third dumpster and crouches down. Will squints down to the ground and isn’t sure if what he sees really is what he thinks it is. The faded white outline of a person drawn on the dirty ground and a large spot of rusty crimson around the head all the way to the waist paints a gruesome picture. Will has to take a few steps back, breathing through his mouth to not vomit all over the place. Does this show where his brother died?

But stepping back, he can suddenly see the whole picture. The outline of the body is only the most visible of the evidence of what has taken place here. A little way over, closer to the street, is another large spot of rusty crimson, but this one spreads out, painting dark streaks on the ground that end in another large spot two thirds of the way to the street.

Al looks up at Will and confirms what Will is thinking. “Whoever was bleeding here tried to crawl back to the street.”

Will swallows hard. “But it can’t be Jay. He’s not in any of the hospitals, and you said he’s not in the morgue either.” Al nods slowly. “So, where is he? And what happened here?”

“I don’t know, Will. Not yet. I’ll make some calls. Maybe I can find out.”

Al turns towards the street, pulling out his phone, and Will turns back to the alley. Looking at the traces of blood on the ground, Will knows with this amount of bleeding, the person is most likely dead by now. No witness to ask for his brother’s whereabouts.

He leans against the wall, taking a deep breath while fear finds a new place in the center of his heart. He isn’t afraid anymore that his brother won’t forgive him for acting like a selfish prick. Will would gladly take that if he only knew where his little brother was and that he was okay. What he really is afraid of now is that they will never find Jay. That he won’t be able to apologize to him, to let him know their stupid fallout wasn’t Jay’s fault but his.

“You are Will.”

Will startles out of his thoughts and looks to the voice on his right. It belongs to a man in tattered and dirty clothes, wild hair and a shaggy beard, who is missing an arm. “Excuse me?”

“You are Will, Ricky’s older brother.” The man smiles at him. “The doctor.”

Will is confused. “Who is Ricky?” He makes out Al at the entrance to the alley, still talking on his phone.

“He was my sergeant in the Rangers a long time ago.” The man looks him up and down. “He talked about you a lot. Was really proud of you for becoming a doctor.” The man smiles melancholically. “Always egged me on to go for it, too. Told me if his daft older brother could do it, I could, too.”

Will has to chuckle at that thought. That’s just so Jay. Razzing him without Will even being there. And using it to motivate others. “Have you seen my brother lately? We are looking for him.”

Now the man frowns, taking a step back. “You’re only now looking for him?”

“What do you mean?”

“If you haven’t missed him for two weeks, I’m not sure I want to talk to you anymore.” The man’s gaze turns a little hostile now. “Makes sense now that he said he didn’t have anything left to fight for.”

“He said WHAT?”

The man hums and starts to turn away, but Will follows him. “Come on, man, please. I really need to find him. I… I was an ass to him, and I need him to know that it wasn’t his fault. Please. Help me out.”

The man turns back to Will, studying him intently. Seeing the desperation in Will’s face, he nods and starts to talk. “I found him over there early in the morning. He was more dead than alive, I can tell you. Had lost a lot of blood. Had been stabbed a few times. Don’t know how long he had been lying there. I called 911, but it took a while for them to arrive.” The man stares down at the large patches of blood. “I managed to get him to wake up. And he recognized me. He even seemed relieved to see me. Don’t know why. Haven’t seen each other for more than 10 years. We talked a little. But he was fading before my eyes. As a medic I’ve seen a lot, and I knew that I couldn’t do anything to save him.” The man looks down to his feet, but Will can still see the single tear that slips down his cheek. “He stopped breathing maybe two minutes before the paramedics arrived.”

“What?” It’s only a whisper, the words hitting him like a punch to the gut. Staggering back, Will grasps at the wall for support and feels his heart bursting with grief. “He’s… he’s dead?”

The man shakes his head slowly. “I kept his heart beating until the paramedics arrived. They got him back quickly and rushed him to the hospital.”

“Which hospital?”

“Not sure. I think they said something about Mount Sinai.”

Will thinks back to his phone calls earlier. He remembers his call to his colleague there. And he’s sure that Phil had told him that there was no Jay Halstead at his hospital. He closes his eyes and tries to take a deep breath. Jay died here in this alley. Just for a few minutes, but he did. Alone. Thinking that Will hated him.

“What’s your name?” Will opens his eyes to study the man that had saved his little brother’s life.

“It’s… um, Gerry. Gerry Wagner.“

„Thank you, Gerry. For saving him.”

Gerry shrugs. “He did the same for me. A few times, actually. I still owe him.”

Will nods, readily believing this about his brother. “What did you talk about?”

The man squirms a little. “Life. And that it can look dark and lonely. But that it can turn around again. I told him about my daughter.” A smile lights up Gerry’s face. “Told him that she wants me to be part of her wedding if I’m able to stay sober. And I have.”

“Good for you.” Will looks over to Al who is still in earnest discussion with someone on the phone.

“And then, when I told him I only needed to find a way to get a nice suit for the wedding, he…” Gerry trails off, his hand disappearing into his pants pocket.

“What did he do?”

“He…” Gerry’s shoulder sag and he lets out a deep sigh, pulling his hand out of his pocket and showing Will what is inside. “He gave me that ring. Told me to sell it and buy a suit.” He looks up at Will defiantly. “I told him that I couldn’t take the ring, that it was his and that he would need to give it to that special person he bought it for, but…” A tear leaks out of Gerry’s eye. “He said he didn’t need it anymore because he wasn’t special enough.”

Will’s heart breaks as the puzzle pieces finally click into place. Jay had planned to propose to Erin, and she had rejected him. That’s why he couldn’t be at the gala.

Oh. My. God.

Will closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He had been such an ass. His little brother was hurting so much, and all he could do was pile it all on top of it. Holy shit!

Gerry extends his hand to Will, offering the ring. “I really didn’t steal it. He gave it to me. But you can take it back to him.”

Will shakes his head, folding Gerry’s fingers around the ring. “No, you keep it. Jay wanted you to have it.” He rummages around in his pocket for one of his cards. “Go to your daughter’s wedding and stay sober. That’s what Jay wanted.” He gives Gerry his card. “And if you need help with that you can call me. I owe you big for being there for my brother. For saving him.”

He pushes away from the wall and strides over to where Al just finishes his phone call. From the other side of the street, he can see Kevin sprint over to them.

“I know where Jay is.”

“Found Jay.”

“Jay’s in Mount Sinai.”

They look at each other, grinning that all of them have found Jay. They turn quickly towards their truck, and Kevin starts driving to the hospital.

On their way, they fill each other in on what they found.

Kevin tells them that he went over the footage a few times before he let it roll to the early hours of the morning. That’s when the action started. First an ambo arrived, then the unis and later more cop cars, probably from Robbery/Homicide. Kevin had called around to find out where the ambo had taken the patient.

Al tells them how he had to dial his way through several detectives until he finally found a young colleague who was working the case and was willing to share the infos on what happened there. Apparently, they hadn’t known the name of the two victims at first, because neither had any papers on them. They identified the homicide victim as a Marty Rivers, but weren’t able to identify the other man. A homeless guy had found them and called it in. When the paramedics arrived, he was doing chest compressions on the man. They got him back but the detective said it doesn’t look good. Last he heard was that he was still in a coma, slowly fading away. They didn’t have a name for him, so he was admitted as John Doe, although the homeless man called him Ricky for whatever reasons.

“Gerry, the homeless guy who found him, served with Jay in the Rangers. Maybe it’s a nickname? I haven’t heard it before though.” Will shares his part with the others, too, at least most of it. He leaves out the ring part, feeling that it isn’t his place to share anything about the rejected proposal.

They arrive at the hospital and make their way quickly to the ICU. Al rings the bell for visitors and tells the voice who they are and that they are here to see and identify their John Doe. There is a slight pause before the voice tells them that a doctor will be with them in a few minutes.

Will is nervous. His doctor’s mind runs in circles. Gerry had given him only a rough outline of Jay’s injuries, and with the amount of blood he has seen in that alley, he knows Jay is in a bad situation. Whatever the knife hit, he was bleeding a lot. And apart from all the organs that could have been destroyed by the stabbing, he knows with that amount of blood loss Jay would have most likely suffered from hypoxia because there weren’t enough red blood cells left to carry the amount of oxygen Jay’s body needed. What if his brain didn’t get enough oxygen for too long? What if they saved his body but not his mind? What if the Jay he knows is no longer there?

Will starts pacing, not able to contain his nervousness. He has a really bad feeling about this.

The door opens to the waiting room, and a young doctor comes out, his face solemn, and Will’s heart drops into his stomach. He knows a face like this. It’s the same face he dons every time he has to tell relatives that a loved one has passed away. This can’t be it.

“Are you here for our John Doe?”

“Yes. We believe that he is our missing colleague. And this is his brother.” Al steps forward. “Can we see him?”

The doctor takes a deep breath, and before he even says a word, Will knows.

“I’m sorry to inform you, but John Doe passed away two hours ago. His injuries were just too severe. I’m really sorry for your loss.”

“NO!” It’s a strangled cry that rips out of Will, and his knees buckle beneath him. Strong arms catch him before he hits the ground, and he feels himself being set down on a hard plastic chair. His vision blurs, and his breath comes in ragged sobs.

This can’t be it. They can’t be two hours too late. Jay can’t be gone like this!

He doesn’t hear anything else the doctor says. A loud ringing in his ears drowns out any sound around him. The strong arms hold him tight, and he doesn’t even care if it’s Kevin’s or Al’s shirt he’s crying into. It feels like the floor has been pulled out beneath him. After all Jay has gone through. All the horror he had survived in the war. And now he just faded away in a hospital bed without any of his friends or family being there with him. Without knowing that his brother doesn’t hate him. That he was looking for him, even if it took him a while to get there.

It breaks Will’s heart, over and over again.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, sobbing into an unknown shoulder until the tears dry out and the only thing he feels is numbness.

Slowly, he lifts his head and looks into Kevin’s kind and red-rimmed eyes that are filled with the same pain of loss as he feels inside him.

“I need to see him.”

Kevin nods, and together they rise. “The doc will bring you to him. Do you want us to come with you?”

Will shakes his head. “No, thank you. I… I need to be with him alone for a while, if that’s ok.”

Al and Kevin nod and turn back to the door. “We’ll let the rest of the team know. Call us if you need anything.”

Will nods shakily and turns away from them to the entrance of the ICU. He pushes the button and informs the voice that he’s here to identify his brother.

But before the doc can come back to get him, his phone chimes with an incoming call.

The caller-ID reads “Mouse”.

Oh, please, god, no. How can he tell Jay’s best friend, who’s been to war these past few months, putting his life on the line every day, that his best friend just died? All alone in a hospital bed after lying bleeding out in a dark alley without anyone missing him?

New tears spring to his eyes. He can’t tell Mouse all of this, but he needs to know. Taking another shuddering breath, he pushes the accept button.

“Hello, Mouse. I need to tell you something. You better sit down…”

Chapter Text

Saturday, June 16^th

Putting her car into park, she grabs her coffee-to-go cup and exits the car with a deep sigh. This is not how she had imagined her Saturday morning to go. But of course, something like this would happen when she was kind enough to take over the weekend shift for one of her coworkers who desperately needed to go see BTS in concert, a band she never even heard of in her life.

Shaking her head, resigned to a long day, she makes her way to the taped off area.

She doesn’t know the uniformed officer at the entrance of the alley, so she flashes her badge at him and identifies herself. “Detective Gall with Homicide.”

The young officer gives her a smile and a nod and raises the tape for her. She ducks under it and can already see her partner wandering around the scene. “Alec, hi.”

“Good morning, Barbara. How are you today?” He gives her a cheerful smile.

“Don’t ask, I’m getting to old for this shit.” She scowls at him, taking a sip from her coffee. “Tell me what we got this far.”

“It’s a big mess. I’ll show you. Come on. Careful where you step, there’s broken glass everywhere.” He moves behind a dumpster and Barbara follows him. “Two victims. The first one over here, male, Caucasian, early to mid thirties, blunt force trauma to the head. No ID, phone, or anything else on him.”

Barbara bends down to the tarp-covered body and pulls the cover away a little. It’s a gruesome sight, but unfortunately, not one she hasn’t seen before. The man lies on his stomach, the milky unseeing eyes staring right at her, the deformed head resting in a large puddle of dried and congealed blood. “Other injuries?”

Alec shakes his head. “Not that we could see, but the ME will tell you more.”

“What about the TOD?”

“ME isn’t here yet, but he’s completely stiff, so my guess, he’s been dead at least since midnight.”

Barbara hums. “What about the other one? You said there were two victims.”

“The other one survived the initial attack and has been transported to Mount Sinai’s.”

“Did he tell you anything?”

“They were already gone when I got here. But the unis who were here first said he wasn’t in any condition to talk. Apparently when the ambo arrived one of the homeless who lives around here was doing chest compressions on him. They got him back, but it looks bad. All I know is that he was stabbed a couple of times.”

“Any ID on the second victim?”

Alec shakes his head. “No. Same as with this one. No phone. No keys. No wallet.”

Barbara turns around looking at the crime scene, taking it in. The body lies hidden behind one of the large dumpsters that line the wall of the alley. Next to another dumpster in the direction of the street, everything is covered with dried blood like a Jackson Pollock painting.

Alec moves in next to her, studying the blood pattern. “What do you think happened here?”

She looks up at him, frowning. “Without knowing all of the injuries of the victim? Hard to say.” She moves closer to the blood splatters. “There is blood on that wall. He might have been attacked here, sank to the ground and lay here for a while. And then…” She points to the blood trail leading around the dumpster and in the direction of the street. “He tried to crawl towards the street. Maybe for help.” She follows the trail to the large puddle two thirds of the way to the street. “Collapsed here.” She crouches down and looks over and beyond the yellow tape. “Shit. He almost made it to the street.”

She gets up and turns back to Alec. “What about the homeless guy who found him?”

Alec shakes his head. “Vanished. The uniformed officers didn’t see him, and the ambo crew was already gone. We’ll ask them for a description. The only info they gave the unis was that the guy called our victim ‘Ricky’. Not sure if he knew him or if he just called him… something.”

“All right. I’ll head for Mount Sinai’s. Maybe the ambo crew is still there. I’ll ask dispatch which ambo they sent. And I’ll get an update on our victim.” She turns towards the yellow tape. “Finish up here, look for the homeless guy. Wait for the ME, get his opinion. I’ll meet you back at the district.”

Alec gives her a wave and turns back to the crime scene.

Barbara makes her way through the crowd that has gathered despite the early hour of a Saturday morning and reaches her car. Sipping the last drops of her coffee, she sits down in the driver's seat and takes a deep breath. Alec was right. What a shit show. Two victims, no IDs, no witnesses. She can already see where this is going. If the second victim dies, too, this could become a cold case pretty quickly.

Sighing, she pulls out into traffic and makes her way to the hospital. She wouldn’t throw the towel just yet, but she also knows the statistics in cases like this. Making her way through morning traffic, she calls dispatch to ask which ambo crew had been assigned to the case and where she might find them. Apparently, they are already on their way back to their station for a thorough clean-up of the rig. So, she changes her route to meet them at their station. Best to talk to them before they head out again, and the memories of the call get fuzzy.

She parks on the side of the road opposite the fire house and makes her way to the open roll-up. The ambulance is parked facing outwards, and she can see activity behind it.

“Excuse me?” She calls out, making her presence known.

A young Hispanic man pops his head around the side and gives her a smile. “Can I help you, Ma’am?”

“I hope so.” She smiles back at him and pulls out her badge. “I’m Detective Barbara Gall with Homicide. I was told that this ambulance was called to my crime scene at Westmore Street. And I was hoping you could tell me a little about it.” She moves closer and steps around the rig to its back side. There is a woman there, too and another one with captain’s stripes on her uniform just comes out into the roll-up, winding her still wet hair up in a messy bun.

The captain gives Barbara a big grin. “Babsy, how are you?”

“Oh, hi, Leonora. Didn’t realize this was your station.” Barbara feels relieved that her old friend had been at the scene. She is an excellent paramedic and will be able to give her all the details of how they found the scene when they arrived. “I’m doing okay. How about you?”

“Not bad. Do you know my crew?”

Barbara shakes her head, smiling. “Not yet, no.”

“This is Jimmy Martinez and Lucy Forge. Best crew I’ve worked with in years.” The other two beam at their captain, and she grins back at them. “It’s true. Now, what brings you over?”

“Work, I’m afraid. I was just asking Mr. Martinez if you all could tell me about your last call. I’m working the case, and we don’t have much to go on.”

“Sure.” Leonora’s smile fades a little. “That was a bad one. What do you want to know?” She gives the other two signals to start work on their rig while she stays to answer Barbara’s questions.

“All right. Can you walk me through the call from the beginning?” Barbara pulls out her notebook to scribble down whatever they can give her.

Leonora nods and starts talking. “We just came on shift when the call came in. It only said unconscious person, no specifics. With the location of the call, we assumed someone passed out drunk.”

Barbara nods, smiling. “On that street and the time of day, who wouldn’t?” They all share a little laugh, but Leonora gets serious again quickly.

“But when we arrived at the alley, there was a man lying on the ground and another doing CPR even though he only had one arm.”

“He only had one arm? The victim or the one doing compressions?”

“The man doing compressions. Really impressive doing that with only one arm, I can tell you, and he was doing it effectively. Anyway, we unloaded all our stuff and moved to his side. He told us he found the man on the ground in a puddle of blood, that he had been unconscious at first, but he had managed to get him to wake up briefly. He said he was bleeding from abdominal wounds and that he had tried to put pressure on them, but when the victim stopped breathing, he started CPR.”

“Hmmm. Okay. What can you tell me about that man? The one who did the CPR?”

“He said his name was Gerry. Looked like he was homeless, late forties maybe, brownish hair, about 5’10.”

“I think he had some medical training,” Jimmy chimes in.

Barbara looks at him and sees Leonora and Lucy nod. “What makes you say that?”

Jimmy just shrugs. “The way he told us about the victim. The medical terms he used. Seemed like he was familiar with it all.”

“Like a doctor?”

Leonora shakes her head. “I don’t think he was a doctor. But Jimmy is right. He had some kind of medical training. A nurse or a paramedic. Something like that.”

“Okay.” Barbara makes a note on her pad. “The unis said you told them he called the victim ‘Ricky’. Is that correct?”

Leonora nods, and so do the other two. “Yeah. He actually told us not to let Ricky die, because he still owed him. It seemed like Gerry knew the man and really cared about him.”

“Did he give you a last name?”

“No, I’m sorry. We didn’t think to ask. We were too busy keeping the patient stable enough to transport him and get him to Mount Sinai’s still alive.”

“Yeah, I guess you were. And you did.” She looks down on her notes. “Did Gerry tell you if the victim said anything to him? About his attacker?”

They all look at each other but shake their heads. “No. He didn’t say much, but again, we didn’t ask. He just looked really worried for his friend. Sorry, this doesn’t really help.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure we’ll locate Gerry and talk to him.” Barbara scribbles a few notes then looks back up at the crew. “What happened when you took over from Gerry?”

“Well, we took over the CPR and ran fluids and were able to get his heart beating again. Barely, but enough to run him to the hospital. I think they took him to the OR right away. But I’m not sure he’s gonna make it. Don’t think he had much blood left inside of him.”

All three paramedics’ gazes wander over into their ambulance, and Barbara’s gaze follows theirs. Only now does she realize the mess the ambulance is in. There is dried blood everywhere. The floor is coated with it, there are specks of blood on the walls and even the doors have bloody handprints on the inside.

Leonora gives Barbara a grim smile. “That’s why we are out of rotation until we can clean up this mess. It’ll take us at least an hour to get the blood off of everything and restock our supplies.”

“Then I’ll let you get back to work. Thank you for all this.”

“Hope you find whoever did this.” Jimmy’s voice is dark and concerned.

Barbara smiles at the young man. “I’ll do my best.” She waves at them and makes her way back to her car. Not much information. But at least she has a name and description of the homeless guy. She can work with that.

It’s only a short drive to Mount Sinai’s, and she asks her way through various nurses until she finds someone who can give her information on the patient. One of the ER doctors comes up to her and takes the time to give her the meager information he has. The victim is in surgery at the moment to stop the bleeding done by four stab wounds. One of the wounds penetrated his chest and made his lung collapse, the other ones caused massive internal bleeding in his abdominal cavity, which the OR team is trying to find and stop. The left side of his face was nearly smashed in with a broken nose, a shattered zygomatic bone and a dislocated jaw. When they had undressed him there had also been two large bruises, one on the back just below the shoulder blade, and one on the left side of his chest. Even though they looked fresh, the ER doc thought they were inflicted some time before the stabbing, because when John Doe arrived, he had lost so much blood there was just not enough left to leave bruises.

“All of it put together, it will be a miracle if he survives the surgery. And even if he does, with this amount of blood loss all of his organs will have been less perfused, which means they didn’t get the amount of oxygen they require. So, it’s most likely that his organs will shut down because of the lack of oxygen they suffered, and he will die. And in the unlikely event that he survives all of this and wakes up, there is no way of telling how much damage his brain took from the lack of oxygen.”

“Did he wake up at all? Or did you find anything on him to identify him?”

The doc just shakes his head. Barbara leaves her contact information and thanks the doctor for his time, telling him to call if anything changed, and that she will be in contact.

Disheartened, she makes her way out of the hospital and drives back to the district. The shit show just keeps getting worse.

Alec is already in their bullpen, scribbling on their case board. There are two pictures of the dead victim on the board, one from the crime scene and one that looks like a print-out of a driver’s license. The name “Marty Rivers” is scribbled beneath. Next to him is a blank space with the words “John ‘Ricky’ Doe” beneath.

“Took your time. Did you stop for lunch on the way?” Alec gives her a shit-eating grin, to which she can only smile.

“I wish I had. But I didn’t.” She pulls out her notes and explains to him what she found this far. While she talks about everything the paramedics told her, Alec adds the info to their case board. When she finishes with the report from the hospital, she can see the same gloominess on Alec’s face that she feels herself. Not much hope left for the poor guy. All they can do now is work the case.

And that’s what they do.

Over the next days, they find only little more information. The deceased victim doesn’t have a rap sheet. A widower with a fourteen-year-old girl, turned orphan now, that has been given into the custody of her maternal grandparents in Phoenix. The wife died a few years back of ovarian cancer. His younger brother Kyle had been killed in a gang shoot-out only a few weeks ago, but as much as they try to find a connection to the other victim, there doesn’t seem to be one. Marty and Kyle hadn’t been in contact for years, so it was highly unlikely that Marty’s death was tied to Kyle.

They haven’t found Gerry, the homeless guy who tried to save John Doe. Asking around with the regulars in that alley, they are told that Gerry usually stays around there, but he just vanished, and no one has seen him since that morning.

Barbara goes back to the hospital a few times. John Doe fights his way through the initial surgery and also through the follow ups, but is still in critical condition and sedated on a ventilator. She is allowed to see him and snap a photo of his face to maybe be able to identify him through facial recognition, but his face is so distorted because of the fractures and the swelling that facial recognition doesn’t find a match. There are no missing person’s reports on anyone named Ricky, or on anyone in the last week that matches the description of their John Doe. No one seems to be looking for him, which makes Barbara unbelievably sad. As if dying alone in an alley isn’t bad enough, but not being missed by anyone? Just heartbreaking.

They look into Marty Rivers’ family and friends, hoping to find a Ricky there, but no one they talk to has ever heard of a Ricky or someone that looks like their John Doe. She wishes they could have been able to take his fingerprints, but both of his hands have been badly cut from all the trash and broken glass he crawled over.

They are getting nowhere. Even the traffic cameras don’t give them anything. The alley where the homicide took place doesn’t have any traffic cameras in it, and the ones on Westmore don’t cover the entrance.

Dead ends wherever they go.

After a few days, other cases come in, and Barbara and Alec are forced to put the case on the backburner. Like she feared would happen when she started out. A cold case. Probably just a plain old robbery. With Marty Rivers and John Doe in the wrong place at the wrong time. And the offenders in the wind, never to be caught.

Friday, June 22^nd

A week has gone by when the call from the hospital comes in. She feels gut-punched when the doctor tells her, and she promises to be there as fast as she can.

“What’s wrong?” Alec shoots her a concerned glance.

“That was the hospital. Mount Sinai’s.”

“John Doe?”

“Yes.” She still can’t believe it. “He woke up.” She grabs her bag and rushes down the stairs to her car without waiting for Alec’s response. If the man is awake and talking, maybe he is coherent enough to shed some light on everything. Maybe they can finally get some justice for Marty Rivers and John Doe.

All the way to the hospital her mind runs in circles. What if the man isn’t coherent? What if he doesn’t remember anything? What if he woke up but isn’t really there?

It takes her forever to make it to the hospital through the dense traffic, but at last she pulls her car into a parking spot. Taking a deep breath, she gets out and makes her way into the hospital and up to the ICU. The doctor she had talked to on the phone greets her in the waiting room.

“How is he doing?”

“Pretty good considering all his injuries. He’s awake and coherent. His face is still pretty swollen and he shouldn’t be talking too much, but he wants to speak with you. He also gave me consent to fill you in on his injuries for your report as he won’t be able to tell you himself.”

Barbara hides her surprise and just nods. “Okay. What can you tell me?”

“There are fractures in his face from a hit with some kind of bat which have been stabilized by metal plates. The concussion he also received by this hit has already abated. The middle and ring finger of his right hand are broken and have been splinted with pins. He has multiple rib fractures on both sides of his torso, but luckily none of them are displaced. Painful but they will heal on their own. The most concern were the stab wounds. He was stabbed four times. Once to the left side of his chest, penetrating the lung and collapsing it, the other three hit his upper left abdomen causing him to hemorrhage. One of those stabs sliced his left kidney, but we were able to repair the damage there, the other two hit his pancreas, shredding it. We tried to remove as little as possible, but all the blood that accumulated inside his abdomen put pressure on the shredded pieces, cutting off the blood flow to the organ and with it the oxygen.”

“What are you saying here, doctor?”

“In addition to the massive amount of blood loss and the shortage of oxygen for his organs that goes along with it, the parts of the pancreas that survived suffered damage from the pressure. And we’re not sure it will recover enough to work.”

“That sounds bad, but what would that mean for him?”

“It would mean that his body might be unable to produce insulin. Which sounds bad but only means he would be a Type 1 diabetic and had to supplement insulin. But that’s something we don’t need to worry about just yet. The organ could still recover enough to do its job sufficiently.”

“Okay. Anything else?”

“Yes. Because of the blood loss with its hypoxia of the organs and the trauma his body had to endure, he has been on kidney replacement therapy. At the moment we are trying to wean him off of it, but are not sure it’ll work. The next few days will show us more. On his renal function as well as the pancreatic function.”

Barbara nods. It’s a lot to take in, and it sounds like the man has a long road to recovery in front of him. “When will he be out of the ICU?”

The doc looks at her sternly. “I think I haven’t made myself clear. Even if it looks good at the moment, it doesn’t mean he’s out of the woods yet. It has only been a week since he actually died. His lungs are not back to 100%; his kidneys don’t really work yet, and his pancreas might be dead. He has a long road ahead of him. And it might take a turn for the worse at any moment. None of us would have bet money on him surviving all this up to this point.”

“I understand. Thank you, doctor.”

“A nurse will get you in a moment when he’s ready for you.”

The doc moves to the door to go back in when she remembers something. “One last thing, doctor. Your colleague in the ER told me there had been bruises on his chest and back that weren’t from that attack. Did you by any chance find out where those came from?”

The doc turns back to her. “Yes, of course. He said they came from gunshots from earlier that day.”

“He was shot the same day?!? Why didn’t anyone report this?”

“He said he was wearing his bullet proof vest and the bullets were caught by it. And that he was checked out at the scene of the shooting by paramedics, went back to work afterwards.”

“What?” Now Barbara is completely lost. “He went to work after being shot twice? What kind of work does he do?”

“Has no one told you? He is one of your colleagues, a detective from the Intelligence unit. His name is Jay Halstead.”

Barbara reels as the doctor vanishes back into the ICU. A cop? Holy shit. This case just blew up sky high! Of course, she knows about Voight’s unit... has even heard about this particular detective. But that just raises more questions. She pulls out her phone and dials Alec’s number. He answers on the second ring.

“Alec, get on the computer. Our case just took an unexpected turn.”

She tells him who their victim is, hearing the surprised sucking in of air at the news, and has him pull out Jay’s file.

“I wonder why his team didn’t miss him in the last week. It must have gotten someone’s attention when he didn’t show up for work, right?”

“Says here he’s been suspended… on the 15^th. That would make it last Friday. The day of the robbery.”

“Hmmm. Does it say why?”

She hears Alec humming while he skims through the file. “Not so sure. There was a bad bust in the morning. Two of his teammates were severely injured. Maybe because there still is an investigation about that? Says here that the committee that investigates the incident tried to contact him in the last days to get his statement without any luck…”

“Wonder why that was…” Barbara mumbles under her breath. It doesn’t sit right with her that they have been trying to identify this man for a week and his unit didn’t even notice him missing. From what she had heard and how she knew Hank Voight, his unit is one of the elite teams, and that usually means the people in it are close to each other to work effectively and efficiently. But she files that away for later consideration and tunes back in to Alec.

“Yeah, big mystery.” Alec huffs a laugh. “Rest of the file reads like the model police detective. Veteran Army Ranger, been with the Force for more than 10 years, excellent undercover cop, lots of recommendations, has been with Intelligence for over three years now.”

“Any family?”

“A brother and a father. Both live here in Chicago. Father is retired, brother is a doctor at Gaffney.” There is a short pause. “Strange that they didn’t file a missing person’s report either, isn’t it?”

“You never know what’s going on in other families. And just because you are all involved in your brothers’ lives doesn’t mean we all are equally intimate with our siblings. I for example haven’t talked to my sister in weeks.”

“You’re right. Sorry.” Alec sounds chastised. “I still find it strange that no one has been looking for him.”

“Me too, Alec. Me too.” Barbara looks up when the door to the waiting room opens again, and a petite nurse smiles at her. “I have to go. Find out more about that bad bust if you can. Maybe that’s the key to our case.”

She hangs up and follows the nurse to her victim to hopefully get some answers.

Her first impression of the fellow detective is that Jay Halstead looks small in the big hospital bed surrounded by machines and attached to so many tubes and cables. He looks pale and tired, the left side of his face is still a little swollen and discolored, a nasal cannula supplying oxygen, his right-hand cast in plaster. She knows the pulled-up blanket hides a plethora of bandages and new scars.

He looks up at her as she enters the room. “I’m Detective Barbara Gall with Homicide. The doctor told me you are ready to talk to me.”

A small smile ghosts over his face. “Nice to… meet you…Detective.” His voice is rough and quiet, his jaw barely moving. Even though the face is swollen, distorting his features, she still thinks that she can see that he’s in pain.

“You sure you’re up for this?” When the man nods slowly and carefully, she starts with her questions. “Detective Halstead…”

“Please… call me… Jay.”

She gives him a smile and nods. “Okay, Jay. Maybe I’ll start what we know already, and then you can fill me in on what’s missing?” It doesn’t take her long because it really isn’t very much they have found so far. “We weren’t even able to identify you. With your distorted face, facial recognition didn’t get a match, and your fingers were too badly cut for fingerprints. I just found out your identity before I came in here to talk to you.” She looks him over and he stares back at her, no emotion readable on his face. “Now to the things we don’t know. Do you know who killed Marty Rivers and attacked you?”

It’s hard for her to watch and listen as the younger detective slowly and haltingly tells her about Emmet Walker and his gang and drug business, about his CI Kyle who had been in Emmet’s gang and who had been killed by the man himself, about Kyle’s brother, Marty, who volunteered to snoop around his brother’s life to get justice for him, about the information Marty gave him just before the attack, and about the two attackers that needed to kill to not get killed themselves. He tells her how all this is connected to the bad bust from the morning before the attack, about the bust itself and how he failed to protect his teammates, about the uncertain fate of his friend. And he tells her that he left a voicemail for his boss with all the info that Marty gave him.

It takes long for the man to tell her all this, it looks painful and strenuous, but whenever she offers him to pause or come back another time, he refuses. Still, when he finishes, he looks utterly exhausted. Pain lines are clearly visible on his face and his eyes are closed.

“Jay, I know you’re worn out, but can you answer a few more questions for me?”

Without opening his eyes, he nods tiredly.

“The paramedics told us there was a homeless man called Gerry who called 911 and kept you alive until the ambulance was there.” Jay’s face lights up at the name of the man, a grin ghosting over his lips even though he doesn’t open his eyes. “He kept calling you Ricky and it seemed like he knew you. That name, Ricky, threw us quite a loop while searching for your identity. And we weren’t able to locate him. Do you know this Gerry-guy?”

Jay opens his eyes slowly and nods. “Gerry Wagner… old… Army… buddy… Saved… my… life… a few… times… I owe… him… a lot…Ricky’s a… nickname.” His breath sounds a little wheezy now, but he keeps going. “If he… doesn’t… want… to be… found…” He shrugs his shoulders, telling her that they wouldn’t find the man.

“Okay.” With the next inquiry, she tries to find softer words. “You’ve been here for a week now, and we’ve tried to identify you for the same span of time. Do you have any explanation why Voight’s unit never came looking for you? Filed a missing person’s report or something like that? I know you were suspended, but when the committee didn’t get a hold of you, they must have talked to your boss.”

A pained expression flashes over Jay’s face, and he closes his eyes again, but she can still see the emotional pain in there. “Voight… booted me… off the team… I’m… no longer… with Intelligence…” His voice is barley a whisper now. “Need to… find a… new unit… if I even… recover… enough… to return.”

He turns his face away from her, and she notices him pressing the button of a remote control. Barbara supposes that it’s a patient-controlled pain pump, and by the look of slow relaxation on the man’s face she has guessed right. Her heart breaks for this young man who had been through so much all by himself.

“Do you want me to call anyone for you? Your family? Or friends? Let them know you’re here?”

He pries his eyes open and looks back at her, eyes looking forlorn. “I’ll… call… my… my… brother… he’ll… come… when… when he’s… able.” Closing his eyes again, he adds in a barely audible voice, “Don’t… want… anyone… else… to know.”

“Okay. I won’t contact anyone. I’ll let you rest now. If that’s okay with you, I’ll give the committee your statement about the bust, so they only have to come here if they have more questions.”

Jay nods again, but it’s barely there. His breaths come in slight wheezes but don’t look as strained as during the interview. Quietly, she gets up and leaves the room.

Feeling sorry that she had to inflict so much pain, she moves out of the ICU. This man has been through hell and back in only one day. The way he talked about the shooting there was nothing he could have done differently. And even though he didn’t say it, she could read between the lines that his teammate had been the one calling the bad shots, endangering all three of them. If she understood correctly, there had been cameras all over the place so the chain of events should be easy to verify. As far as she can tell, he didn’t do anything wrong at the bust, but even though the man had done all he could to protect his teammates, he got his ass chewed off for his effort and been suspended and kicked off his team. Still he didn’t stop and solved their case.

She can’t understand why Voight would boot an outstanding detective like Jay Halstead. But like with family, it isn’t for her to judge. There might be things that happened she isn’t aware of. Yet. But she knows they could use a detective like this in their unit, and she is pretty sure if she tells her sergeant, he would instantly try to get Halstead into his team.

Back at the district, she shares all the information with Alec. Alec meanwhile hasn’t been idle, doing some background check on Halstead. Now their case board is loaded with information, and it all paints a pretty clear picture.

“I pulled the voicemail Halstead sent to his sergeant. Wanna hear it?”

Barbara looks at Alec, not sure how to interpret his tone of voice and the expression on his face. “Sure, let’s hear it.”

Alec moves to adjust the volume on his computer, presses a button and their victim’s voice floats through the room.

“Hey Sarge, it’s Halstead. I just met with Kyle’s brother, Marty, the man who tipped us about the meet in the warehouse this morning. He gave me new information that’ll crack this case. Walker was supposed to meet a man named Jason Cunningham. He’s been distributing the drugs to all the major players in the city. And to keep them in line, prevent them from screwing him over, he has added bad batches. Cunningham has an apartment on the seafront, and according to Marty, he covers everything with his legit business. I’m sure with a little digging and Marty’s testimony, we’ll get the guy. Marty’s scared shitless, with his brother already dead, and he suspects Cunningham already thinks he talked to us. He needs protection. Told him to get his daughter and get to the 21^st, ask for you or Al. That you would protect them… okay, that’s it. Bye.”

“Why…”

“Shhhh!” Alec interrupts her. “Listen.”

She strains her ears and realizes that there are still sounds coming from the audiofile. They are muffled but still audible. There might be voices in the background, but she can’t understand any words, maybe footsteps.

“Marty?” Halstead’s voice is just above a whisper, careful, guarded. A short pause, a few more footsteps, and then a surprised shout of “What the f…?”

A sickening crunch cuts of the shout mid-word, and a dull thud follows, unmistakable sounds of a solid object hitting flesh and a body dropping to the ground, before the voicemail ends with a loud cracking sound, probably the phone breaking on impact with the ground.

In the silence that follows, Barbara looks at Alec, at last able to read the expression on his face. It’s the same that is probably plastered on her own: pure horror at witnessing the attack on Halstead, knowing what would follow and not being able to help.

“Shit.”

“Exactly what I was thinking.” Having heard the voicemail before, Alec finds his composure faster than Barbara, who pulls a chair towards her and heavily drops down on it.

“Shit.” She looks at Alec. “You know… if that is the end of the voicemail…”

She sees realization dawn on Alec’s face. “Why didn’t Voight send someone for Halstead?”

Nodding, she scans again their case board with all the information. Why didn’t he?

Alec frowns darkly. “How well do you know Hank Voight?”

A sick feeling starts to settle in Barbara’s gut, and she just shrugs. “We’ve met. I know his reputation, know he made a deal to get out of prison. You think…?”

“When you told me who our victim was, I dug a little deeper, and I asked a friend to send me the footage from the warehouse bust. The committee has already seen it, so they are not sealed. I agree with your assumption that Halstead’s partner, this Erin Lindsey, was the one calling the shots, the bad shots. There is no audio, but you can see them arguing before they enter the warehouse, and she just moves in without waiting for her teammates. It’s the same in the warehouse. She moves before the others are in position. From what I could see, Halstead saved her from being shot in the head, and if he hadn’t warned the other officer to move away, she would be dead now for sure. He should never have been suspended in the first place. Without him there, both female officers would now be dead.” He takes a deep breath. “So, the question is, why did Voight suspend him and throw him off the team? Because without Halstead they wouldn’t get to Cunningham? But he knew Halstead was meeting Rivers and told Cunningham about it who sent these two goons to kill them both? But Halstead sent him the voicemail, so he just deleted it and now he can claim he never got it.”

“He deleted the voicemail?”

Alec nods. “Yeah. I got access to the voicemail through Halstead’s phone data, but it isn’t on Voight’s phone anymore.”

“This really looks like Voight has something to do with all of this. Might be on Cunningham’s payroll.” Barbara gets up from her chair and starts pacing. She’s glad that this late on a Friday afternoon they are alone in their bullpen, apart from their sergeant. This isn’t something she wants to get out. To no one. If they are right, and she hopes like hell that she isn’t, this will be one big mess.

“How do we play this?” Alec looks a little nervous. He’s still young, at the beginning of a promising career as a detective, and this might be one hell of a case.

“I’m giving Voight a call. Ask about Cunningham and see how he reacts. And we’ll go from there.” She pulls out her phone and motions to Alec to follow her into their breakroom. At least there, they can close the door, keep this call between the two of them.

As soon as the door is closed behind them, she dials Voight’s number, putting the phone on speaker.

“Voight.” His voice is as rough as always.

“Hank, hi. It’s Barbara Gall from Homicide.”

“Hey, Barbara. Nice to hear from you. What can I do for you?” He sounds pleasant, genuinely curious.

“I just have a quick question.” She takes a deep breath, listening intently on anything from the other man. “I’m investigating a murder and attempted murder at the moment. And we came across the name Jason Cunningham. Does that ring a bell with you?” She holds her breath, anxious about his reaction.

“Not really, no. Should it?” His voice is steady, not giving away anything.

“We think he’s one of the new big drug bosses here in Chicago. Just wanted to know if he’s already part of any of your cases.”

“He’s not. Why would you think he would be?”

“Our tip came from one of your detectives, Jay Halstead.”

Barbara can feel the temperature of their conversation drop by at least ten degrees. “Halstead is not part of my team anymore. He’s been suspended at the moment.” The always rough voice is scathing now. “I don’t know where he got that info, and honestly, I couldn’t care less. But if I were you, I wouldn’t trust that info blindly.”

Barbara looks at Alec, both of them feeling vindicated in their suspicion.

“All right. Thank you for that info, Hank. I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Be careful, Barbara.”

“I will be. Thanks, Hank.”

She hangs up, and neither of them find any words for a while. Barbara is lost in thought, contemplating the extent of consequences this could have. Not only for Hank Voight, but for the whole Police Department. This could be big. Too big for her alone. She really needs to get her sergeant involved. And if they are going after Jason Cunningham, they should get Narcotics onboard, too. Maybe even S.W.A.T.

“Let’s give Sergeant Timmons an update. Things will have to go big now.” She gets up, and Alec follows her back out into their bullpen and to the office of their sergeant.

Things move slow and fast at the same time after that. They bring their sergeant up to speed on their investigation, and like Barbara suspected, he brings in Narcotics and S.W.A.T. They get a court order for a wire on Voight’s phone and a surveillance team. They use Halstead’s, or to be more specific Marty Rivers’ information about Jason Cunningham, digging deeper into his legitimate businesses, finding exactly what Rivers had told Halstead, and over the weekend they steadily built their case.

It’s Wednesday morning when they are finally ready to make their move. And with the combined task force they storm Cunningham’s estate at the waterfront, seizing all his property. Only very few shots are fired by Cunningham’s bodyguards, but they soon surrender seeing that they are vastly outmanned and outgunned.

In the basement of the large mansion, they find two men, badly beaten but still awake and talking, still able to walk on their own accords out of the basement. As soon as Barbara learns their names, she places them under arrest for the murder of Marty Rivers and the attempted murder of police detective Jay Halstead, and lets them be transported to Mount Sinai’s with a police escort. In another room, they find a third person. This one not as lucky as Freddy Craven and Mike Carpenter. No one can tell her who the unconscious Hispanic in the small dark room is who is more dead than alive. She sighs as she sees him taken away by paramedics. Another John Doe fighting for his life because of John Cunningham.

They take Cunningham into custody and get him transported to their district. It’s no surprise that he says ‘lawyer’ faster than he’s seated in their interrogation room. But Barbara doesn’t care. Her money is on the two thugs she wants to nail down for the murder and attempted murder of Rivers and Halstead. So, once again, she makes her way through the ever-present dense traffic to the ED of Mount Sinai’s, this time with Alec in tow. The same doctor as last time is on call and greets her like an old friend. He tells her where she can find the two men, both have already been settled into rooms one floor up, uniformed officers outside their doors, both of them handcuffed to their beds.

It doesn’t take her and Alec long to flip those two. As Halstead had told them already, they had been blackmailed into the attack by threats on their lives. While Alec works on the younger man, Barbara grills Craven. By the time he’s ready to testify against Cunningham, Alec has achieved the same with Carpenter. Satisfied with their results, they return to the district. The colleagues from Narcotics haven’t started the interrogation of Cunningham yet, leaving him and his lawyer to sit in there, waiting on everything Barbara and Alec might bring them.

Barbara is more than willing to let one of the Narcotics detectives and Alec do the interrogation. She has known Detective Weston for years and respects him for his interrogation skills. Alec can learn a lot from him. Standing behind the one-way mirror, she watches the two confront Cunningham and his lawyer with the evidence they already have against him. And they haven’t even started going through everything they seized at his properties. There is no way out of it for Cunningham. He knows it, and his lawyer knows it, too. Still, he doesn’t say anything, even when he gets offered a deal of less severe detention conditions. There is only one time when Cunningham’s stoic face slips. When Alec asks him on his connection to Hank Voight, Cunningham gives him a curious glance and then a smirk, but doesn’t comment on it.

Barbara isn’t sure what to make of it. Did he just as good as confess that Voight is on his payroll? Or does he play with them, only giving the impression that he has paid off one of their own in a high-ranking position?

There is just nothing to it. Barbara needs to bring in Voight for questioning.

Thursday, June 28^th

They have been at it all through the night and the morning, but Barbara decides that this can’t wait. It won’t get any easier the longer she waits. If Voight really is entangled in all this mess, the risk of him hearing about the bust from yesterday increases exponentially with every passing hour. And she doesn’t want him to talk his way out of it just because she went home to grab some shuteye.

The drive to the 21^st is quiet, both Alec and herself are too tired for idle small-talk, both of them too anxious about what they might walk into there. Their sergeant wanted to send more men with them, but Barbara declined. Innocent until proven guilty. If she shows up there with that many men, it would look like they had already condemned Voight. But to this point, they don’t have any evidence of him being connected to Cunningham. Just the voicemail that he deleted, the booting of Halstead without any comprehensible reason, and the smirk of Cunningham at the mention of Voight’s name. There could be a plausible explanation for all of it.

They arrive at the 21^st, and Barbara parks their car, turning to Alec. “Let me do the talking. We’re walking on thin ice here. If Voight isn’t involved we don’t want to offend him. He’s been doing that job for a long time, making Chicago safer every day. His methods might be a little iffy sometimes, but his unit gets shit done.”

Alec nods. The last thing they both want is for this to blow up when there is nothing behind it.

Stepping through the double doors and climbing the stairs to the entrance hall, she can see the grey-haired desk sergeant giving out black ribbons.

Shit. Someone from this district has died. She didn’t hear anything over the radio on their drive here, but she has been too preoccupied with their case and too tired to notice anything that didn’t concern her case.

She steps closer to the sergeant, pulling her badge out, and Alec does the same next to her. The sergeant, whose nametag reads ‘Platt’, looks down to them, grief clearly visible on her face. She halts in her movement, giving them hostile glares. “Who are you, and why are you here on this dark day?”

“I’m Detective Gall with Homicide, this is my partner Detective Warner. We are here to talk to Sergeant Voight about Detective Halstead.”

Barbara is surprised to see tears spring into the eyes of the grumpy-looking sergeant. “So, you heard already? Here, take a ribbon.” She pushes a black ribbon in both of their hands.

“Heard about what?”

“About Jay, of course.” She wipes at her eyes. “He died yesterday in the hospital, after he’s been missing for nearly two weeks. And his brother didn’t even make it in time to say goodbye.”

Barbara feels gut-punched. Detective Halstead died? She pulls out her phone to check if the hospital called her, and yes, she has a couple of missed calls from a number she had saved in her work phone on one of her visits to Mount Sinai’s. The number of the ICU. This really pulls at her heart. He had been doing better last time she checked, but the doc had also told her that he wasn’t out of the woods yet. That he could take a turn for the worse at any moment.

Alec squeezes her shoulder sympathetically, and she appreciates the gesture. She has been doing this job for so long now, has perfected the art of not letting the cruel fates of her victims get too close to her. But once in a while there are cases that make it past her barriers. And this is one of those cases. She had liked the younger detective, had been impressed by his perseverance and everything he had already accomplished in his life. His death was a major loss to the Chicago Police Department.

“I’m really sorry for your loss.” She knows her voice isn’t as steady as it should be, but the desk sergeant doesn’t seem to mind. On the contrary, she offers her a kind and sympathetic smile.

“Thank you, detective. He’ll be missed by us all.”

“Could you still take us to Sergeant Voight? It’s even more pressing that we speak with him in light of these news.”

Platt comes around her desk and takes them to a flight of stairs to the side, leading to a caged door with a number pad. “The team is up there, having a little mourning ceremony for Jay.” She types in a code, putting her hand to the scanner. “Go up, they should all be there.”

Barbara nods a thanks to her, and she and Alec make their way up the last steps. They can already hear the rough voice of Voight talking, even though they can’t make out the words yet.

Determined more than ever to get to the bottom of all of this and get justice not only for Marty Rivers, but also for Jay Halstead she moves away from the stairs. She didn’t know Jay Halstead in person, but everything Alec had found out about him in his deep digging, and everyone she had talked to in her investigation had painted a pretty clear picture of the police detective and the man.

Someone they all could look up to. Good police. An even better man.

A protector.

Confidently, she steps into the bullpen.

Chapter Text

Wednesday, June 27^th

“Mr. Halstead, I strongly advice against this.”

Tiredly, Jay looks up at the doctor. He knows the man only means well. But he can’t stay here at the hospital any longer. And as soon as his brother is here, he will leave. With or without the doctor’s consent. “I know. But I need to get out of here.” His voice still doesn’t have its strength back, still sounds hoarse, and it still takes a lot of energy to talk.

“I know it’s not the Hilton, but you are in no condition to leave the hospital yet. It’s not even been two weeks since you were brought in here, freshly resuscitated, completely bled out. None of us know how you even made it through that first surgery. It’s a miracle that you are sitting here and are able to discuss this with me. Just give your body a little more time to heal before you leave.”

Jay sighs. “I can’t, doc.”

The door to his room opens, and the person Jay has been waiting for walks in, looking a little tired but carrying a bag which Jay hopes contains fresh clothes for him. Getting out of this hospital gown will be the first step towards home. Seeing his brother lightens Jay’s heart, and it feels like it’s the first time since he woke up in the hospital, that he can really take a deep breath.

“Holy shit, Jay! You don’t look like you should be up yet!”

Jay’s face splits into a smile, and in the next second, he’s being enveloped into a tight hug that soothes away all the hurt of his aching heart as well as the physical pain of all his injuries. His voice even rougher than before, Jay tries to talk around the lump in his throat. “Good to have you here, brother.”

Dr. Johnson clears his throat, getting the attention of the two men. Looking at the doctor, Jay knows exactly what he is going to say, and Jay has to hide a little smile. This should be interesting.

“You are Mr. Halstead’s brother?” When he gets an affirmative nod, Dr. Johnson continues. “Your brother wants to leave the hospital against medical advice. I know you, as a medical professional, and I will see eye to eye on this, and I hoped you will help me convince your brother that with all of his injuries it’s impossible to leave the hospital.”

“What kind of injuries are we talking about?”

“In addition to the fractures of his left zygomatic bone and the jaw dislocation which both have been repaired and are healing nicely, and the broken fingers on his right hand, he has been stabbed four times to his chest and abdomen only 12 days ago. When he arrived here, he was in hypovolemic shock with an initial Hb of 3. The stabbing to the chest and severe beating on top of the deep hematoma on his side and back from the gunshots earlier in the day caused a hematopneumothorax on the left side and bilateral serial rib fractures. The stabbing to his abdomen added massive hemorrhaging from a renal capsular rupture on his left and a ruptured pancreas. He had been newly resuscitated when he was wheeled in our trauma bay. Only massive transfusion which basically replaced his whole blood volume and the abdominal packing saved his life. We needed to do two CiCa-cycles before his kidneys started working again, he developed ARDS, and we could only wean him off the vent after five days. He’s been out of ICU for only two days, and his retention values and his intrinsic pancreatic activity are still not even close to normal.” The doctor takes a deep breath. “You see, he’s really in no state to leave yet.” He looks expectantly at the newcomer who only looks at Jay.

“That really sounds bad. Did you understand any of that?”

“Don’t ask me! I only understand most of what he said because I was there. Sort of.” Jay huffs out a laugh, smirking at his brother. “You were always better at field medicine than I was.”

“I’m sorry, doc, I understood 10… maybe 15% of what you just said. Could you repeat that in dummy words so the both of us understand?”

“What kind of doctor are you?”

“I never said I was a doctor.” Mouse bursts out laughing. “Didn’t the army fatigues tip you off that I’m not the doctor-brother?”

“But…”

Mouse turns serious again. “Please, could we speed this up a little? I can see that my brother is uncomfortable, in a ton of pain, and really, really needs to get out of this hospital gown, into some comfy clothes and home into his own bed. Let’s just make that happen, okay? You can tell me what I have to look for, then go get the papers ready.” When the doctor still tries to argue, Mouse’s gaze turns steely, his posture changing from the good-humored friendly young man into the deathly Ranger that he is. “I’m taking my brother home today. And that’s not up for discussion.”

The doctor shrinks back a little, stutters an apology and starts relaying all of Jay’s injuries to Mouse in terms easily understandable for both Jay and Mouse, and what to monitor, when to do blood check-ups, and when to come in. Jay tunes most of it out, grateful for Mouse’s help, for him to fight the fights he just doesn’t have the strength to fight at the moment. And Mouse knows him like no one else. He knows Jay needs to get out of the hospital, that he will recuperate much faster at home than he could ever do in a hospital. Only sitting on the edge of his bed makes him wanna lie down again and sleep for hours. Everything hurts. Breathing is still a strenuous act, and the stitches in his abdomen itch constantly. He just feels so tired all the time. And that’s just his body.

Since he woke up in the ICU, he has felt the absence of his friends and family acutely. He didn’t feel like calling any of them. Not Kevin or Adam, not Al and especially not Erin or Hank. And Will… he longed for his brother but he was too scared to call him, too scared of Will’s reaction, indifference being the worst-case scenario. As bad a mother-hen as Will can be, Jay would give anything to have Will here with him at the moment, for him to understand all that medical mumbo-jumbo the doc just threw at them, to help get him home, get him settled in, help with the pain. But as much as he needs doctor-Will, he needs brother-Will even more. To just be there, to not be mad at him anymore. But that’s something he can’t have.

“Hey, how are you really doing?”

Mouse’s voice pulls him out of his own head, and he blinks up at his brother, surprised that they are alone. “It’s… bad. Everything hurts. Just wanna lie down again and sleep.” With Mouse he doesn’t have to keep up the façade of being fine, and he isn’t embarrassed to show his weakness with him. Mouse has seen him at his lowest, earned his complete trust and never let him down.

“I’ll get you home as quickly as I can. Let’s start with getting rid of this questionable fashion choice.” Jay smiles but is too exhausted to answer, so he just nods, closing his eyes and concentrates on breathing. “Don’t worry, you just sit there, I’ll do all the hard work.”

Carefully, Mouse pulls the gown away, and Jay can hear him suck in a sharp breath, probably at the sight of the myriad of bruises on Jay’s torso. “They worked you over pretty good.” With trained efficiency, he gets Jay into some sweatpants and a comfy long-sleeve. If it were anyone else who just changed his clothes like he was a helpless little baby, Jay would be more than embarrassed. But Mouse and him have lived in close quarters long enough, in the Army and afterwards, to know every aspect of the other man’s life, and it just feels normal.

“You look a little pale there, buddy. You doin’ okay?”

Jay’s not sure how to answer that. The pain has reached a level where he’s just one wrong move away from passing out. And he knows if he does pass out, he won’t be getting out of here today. So, he clings to consciousness, trying to breathe through the pain, trying to compartmentalize, but every deep breath only hurts more. He concentrates on slowing everything down, his breathing, his heartrate, and he starts to push the pain away into dark corners of his mind, where he can just ignore it. At least for as long as it takes to get home.

He knows Mouse will wait patiently for him to give him the signal to continue. At last, Jay feels like he can move again, and gives a nearly imperceptible nod. Without opening his eyes, he can feel Mouse putting some socks onto his naked feet, followed by some soft shoes. He doesn’t really care what he wears, as long as he gets to leave.

“All done.”

Jay opens his eyes and looks at Mouse, who keeps a steadying hand on him. “What now?”

Mouse points to a wheelchair that has miraculously appeared at Jay’s bedside. “Your carriage awaits.”

Jay snorts and regrets it instantly, wincing and grabbing his chest with his right.

“Sorry.” Mouse moves the wheelchair next to the bed and arrests the brakes. “Just put your arms around my neck, I’ll do all the heavy lifting. Try not to pass out.”

Jay does as Mouse tells him. His muscles lock into place, knowing that this will hurt like hell. He really doesn’t want to admit that the doctor might be right, that he probably shouldn’t leave yet. But he can’t stay here in this depressing room any longer, can’t lie in that uncomfortable bed, staring at a white wall, not being able to distract his mind from wandering down the rabbit hole.

Mouse counts to three, and Jay really tries to lock his knees into place to support his own weight and to help being moved to the wheelchair, but his legs feel like jello, and he only stays upright for a second. But it’s enough for Mouse to turn him 45° and sit him down in the wheelchair. As soon as he sits, his body loses all its tension, and he slumps forward. If not for his brother, he would have faceplanted right out of the wheelchair.

But a gentle hand guides his body back into a sitting position and puts his feet on the footrest while he works on keeping his promise to not pass out. He realizes that the new position is kind of nice because his back is supported and cushioned as it is leaning against the back rest. It feels like heaven, and he can already feel the rest of his body relax a little.

The door opens, and a nurse comes in. “Sorry for the wait. The doc is just updating your release papers. We had to change your name, because you were still listed as John Doe, and that took a little while to sort out. But now that this is taken care of, I’ll bring the papers in a minute, and you can stop at the pharmacy on your way out. I know you must be hurting a lot, so be sure to fill your prescription for pain meds.” As quickly as she came in, she leaves again.

“She’s right. We really need to get you something for the pain. You’re pale as a sheet, and you haven’t taken one deep breath since I entered this hospital room.”

Jay can only nod slightly. Pain relief would be heaven. His ribs throb with every breath, and even though the sitting position takes the strain from the stitches in his abdomen, his whole left side feels like molten lava. He’s just glad his headaches have toned down a lot over the last few days, and his jaw, though still a little discolored, isn’t as swollen and painful anymore as it was after he woke up.

Mouse is quiet at his side, giving him the steady support that he needs without having to fill the silence. That’s one thing Jay loves most about his best friend. As fast talking and rambling as he can be when he’s nervous or agitated, he can be a calm and steady presence, giving Jay the strength he needs.

It doesn’t take long for the nurse to return. “Okay, these are your release forms. You have to sign here and here that you’re leaving against medical advice. It doesn’t have to be pretty to count.” Jay nods and awkwardly takes the pen into his left hand, scribbling his signature beneath the form. The nurse smiles at him. “Now this is taken care of, here’s your prescription for the pain meds. You can fill it on your way out. But I would like to inject some pain medication into your iv before I have to remove that, if that’s okay with you? It would take effect a lot quicker than if you take it orally.”

Jay hesitates, but Mouse answers for him. “Yes, thank you, that would be great. I don’t want him to pass out from pain on our way to the truck.”

Jay rolls his eyes, but he knows this is a real possibility with the way he’s feeling at the moment. Mouse gives him a knowing smirk, having read Jay’s mind effortlessly. The nurse pushes some medication, clearing the line with a little saline before removing it completely and covering the puncture mark with a bandage. Only a few moments later, Jay can already feel the effect. The unsurmountable pain tones down to tolerable, something that is annoying but that can easily be pushed on the backburner and tuned out. “Thanks.” His mumbled word is barely more than a whisper.

“Don’t mention it.” She gives him another warm smile before she turns to Mouse. “One more thing. I know the doc already told you what you need to look for, but it’s important that you check his blood sugar regularly. We still don’t know if his pancreas is working as it should. He might need to be injected with insulin if the blood sugar rises too high.”

“Thank you. I know what to look for, and how to do that. My grandma used to have diabetes, and I learned a lot about it from her.”

Jay is surprised by that information, something new to learn about his friend even after the long time they’ve known each other, but the nurse looks a little more at ease at Mouse’s declaration. Mouse steps behind Jay and starts pushing the wheelchair towards the exit. Passing the nurse, she pats Jay’s arm and gives him a worried look. “Take care of yourself. And if anything takes a turn for the worse, just come back here.”

He gives her a grateful nod, not sure if he has it in him to talk.

Mouse steers him down the hall, past the nurse’s station, earning a disapproving look not only from his doctor but also from one of the other nurses while passing them, and towards the elevator. Now that the pain medication has taken effect, everything doesn’t feel so oppressive anymore. His body feels light and floaty, and his toes feel like they are drunk. He tries to wiggle them, and as soon as they move, a giggle starts to form deep inside his belly. He claps his left hand over his mouth and presses his lips tightly together to not let the giggle out.

“Pain meds kicking in?” Jay can hear Mouse’s amused voice from behind him, and he can only nod, afraid of what will come out of his mouth if he lets go of it. The elevator dings open, and the three people inside move a little to accommodate the pair. Jay stares at his knees, avoiding to look around, a little scared what he might see. The giggle in his stomach still works its way into his chest, and he’s not sure how long he will be able to keep it from bursting out. And if that happens, these people might think him a lunatic and won’t let him leave. Finally, the doors open again on ground level, and Jay’s wheelchair is the first to leave the cab. From behind him, he can hear Mouse let out an audible breath and wonders why Mouse was so tense in the elevator, but at the same time he feels himself doing the same, swallowing the inappropriate giggle into his stomach to hopefully be dissolved by the acid there.

Mouse stops the wheelchair in front of the pharmacy and pulls out the prescription. Locking the breaks into place, he moves around to squat before Jay, looking him sternly in the eyes. “You wait here, I’ll be back in a few minutes. No wandering around, you hear me?”

Jay can only stare at his brother, whose hair have turned a dark shade of purple. Reaching out with his left hand, he cards his fingers through the soft velvety strands. “This is beautiful. Purple’s really your color.”

Mouse catches Jay’s hand, his face doing a crazy dance between amusement and exasperation. “Jesus, what did she give you?”

Jay shrugs, but starts to look around the room, his left hand falling into his lap. There are not many people in this hall, but they all have different color of hair, all the colors of the rainbow, strong colors that shine brightly in the light that falls through one of the windows. Jay knows his voice won’t carry, but he thinks it’s beautiful, and he can’t take his eyes off of them.

Mouse meanwhile has recognized what is going on and makes his way to the counter. Jay watches him go, feeling a deep sadness, and the fear of losing his best friend too spreads through his body. On top of everyone else. He wants to call out to his friend, not to abandon him, wants to follow him but the wheels won’t move, wants to rise from the chair not to be left behind. Just as he tries to push himself up, Mouse turns back to him with a smile and points at him. “Stay where you are. I’ll be back in a second.”

Jay slumps back into the wheelchair. Mouse is probably the only person on this planet he trusts completely and who has never broken his trust. If he tells him to stay, tells him that he’ll be back, Jay knows he can trust him. Not like the other people in his life he had given his love and trust, who have let him down again and again.

He keeps looking around the hall, pressing his casted right hand unconsciously against his hurting chest, just to keep himself from breaking apart. But still there is this giggly feeling deep inside of him, and it hurts to keep it inside.

“Hold this.”

A tiny brown bag is shoved in his lap, and on instinct he grabs it and keeps it from tumbling to the floor. As soon as he has the bag securely in his left hand, his chair starts to move again. Mouse pushes him steadily towards the exit, careful to avoid little bumps but Jay still gets jostled a little.

Moving through the automatic doors, a blast of fresh air hits them, chasing away most of the loopiness, and Jay closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. It doesn’t hurt as much as it did only 10 minutes ago, but he can still feel the throb of his expanding chest. But to feel the light breeze on his face, feel the midday sun warm his skin, are the best things in the world. He remembers lying in that alley in the middle of the night, darkness surrounding him, knowing that he might never feel something like that again.

The wheelchair stops again, and Jay opens his eyes. They’ve come to a halt next to Mouse’s truck, the passenger side door already open. “You think you can help me this time?”

Jay nods confidently, and as before he holds tight to his brother and locks his knees when they get him into a standing position. Together they shuffle the few steps before Mouse lowers him carefully onto the passenger seat.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Jay sees a familiar truck screech to a halt near the entrance, and three people hopping out, rushing into the hospital. He recognizes Kevin exiting from the driver’s side, but the other two are hidden behind the vehicle. Jay’s heart drops into his stomach. His team is so close and yet so far away. Briefly he wonders if they closed their case successfully, getting justice for Kyle and Marty, and what kind of case they have now that brought them here. He longs to be back at work again, only to remember how Voight threw him off the team. No matter how quickly he recovers, he will never be part of Intelligence again. A deep-felt sadness spreads through him, and he diverts his gaze from the truck, adjusting his position in the car, carefully clicking the seatbelt into position, and leans back, eyes closed, hugging his ribs and side with his arms.

“I’ll be back in a sec, just taking the wheelchair back.”

Jay nods, trying to keep his thoughts from wandering back to his team, to the lack of support he got from them, not only on the day of the shooting, but in the time since then. Because Detective Gall was right. When the committee didn’t get a hold of him, they sure as hell asked Voight about him. And no one on the team even bothered to look for him. And even though he told Detective Gall not to contact anyone, he’s pretty sure that the news of him being attacked made it to his team, especially since it was tied to their case. But none of them came to see him. He’s not sure he would have wanted any of them there, but knowing they didn’t even bother to come, hurts his soul.

He wipes at the single tear that rolls down his cheek as Mouse plops down next to him on the driver’s seat.

“How you holding up?”

Jay huffs out a quiet laugh, giving his brother a pained smile. “Damn painkillers have my emotions all over the place.” He takes a tentative deep breath and closes his eyes again. “Just saw Kevin and two of my team arrive and enter the hospital.”

Mouse whips around, staring at the entrance, but Kevin and the others are long gone. Jay feels Mouse’s gaze on him. “What?”

Mouse doesn’t say anything for another moment, and Jay peels his eyes open to look at his friend, who is studying him thoughtfully. “Jay, why isn’t Will here, mother-henning you to death?”

Jay turns his head towards the window, leaning his head against the cool glass, and shrugs but doesn’t say anything.

“Does he even know you’re here?” Mouse’s voice is soft and tentative, and Jay can hear all the care in it and no judgement.

Jay shrugs again. “Dunno.”

“Didn’t you call him after you woke up like you called me?”

He shakes his head slightly, not meeting his friend’s eyes, a small tear making it down his cheek.

“Why not?”

Jay turns and looks up at his brother, seeing earnest concern there, and he tries to explain. “Because… because he made it clear that he wants me to stay away. To not call or message him. And I… I did. I do. I’m giving him the space he wants.” Jay lowers his eyes again. “And because I’m scared he wouldn’t pick up if he knew it was me. And because…” He gulps down a shuddering breath before he continues in a quieter voice, looking out of the window again. “What if I called to tell him, and he already knew and chose not to come? That would… that would kill me.”

“Jay! That’s not Will.” Mouse shakes his head, holding his hand up before Jay can interrupt him. “I know Will can be a bit of a dickhead sometimes. And I don’t really know what the two of you were fighting about, but I know he would want to know about this. And if he had known you were in that hospital fighting for your life, he would have been at your side, and no power on earth would have been able to remove him.” Giving Jay’s arm a light squeeze, he smirks at his brother. “And he would have terrorized the whole ICU doing it.”

Jay huffs out a little laugh. Back in his hospital room, alone with his thoughts, those fears came to the front, sending him into a downward spiral. Sitting here in the sun with his best friend at his side, he knows Mouse is right, of course. He should have called his brother as soon as he was awake. Taking as deep a breath as the painkillers allow, he nods. “We should call him.”

Mouse looks relieved and pulls out his phone, scrolling through his contacts until he finds Will’s number. Putting it on speaker phone, Mouse pushes the button to dial. It rings for a few times before Will answers.

Before Mouse or Jay can say anything, Will’s voice floats through the truck, sounding strained, unsure and exhausted at the same time. “Hello, Mouse. I need to tell you something. You better sit down.”

Jay feels his heart drop. Something bad has happened, he can hear it in Will’s voice. Someone has died. He has seen and heard Will deliver this kind of news to relatives of patients he’s lost. And he always has this special kind of facial expression and tone of voice when he does it. Both emanate empathy, sorrow and compassion at the same time. And that’s exactly the tone Will is using now. Jay can’t say anything, dreading the news that’ll come now, wondering who has died. Is it Kim? He got a few updates on her from Detective Gall but also from the nurses in the ICU. Last he heard she was doing better, on her way to waking up. But he also knows how fast things can go downhill. His heart feels heavy at the thought that he might have lost Kim, who he thought of as a little sister. But it would be more than just losing a sister, because on top of all of it, it was his fault for not protecting her better, for not keeping her safe. His thoughts drift over to Erin. Maybe it’s her who took a turn for the worse, and his heart squeezes at the thought. She might have ripped out his heart, but in the deepest corner of his soul she still holds a place.

At Jay’s silence, Mouse pipes up. “What’s up, Will?”

“My brother… He is…” They can hear Will take in a deep shuddering breath, and it sounds like Will is actually crying. “I’m really sorry, Mouse, but Jay died two hours ago.”

Jay looks at Mouse, seeing the thunderstruck expression he’s sure his own face is showing. He can only shake his head, sure something is off with his hearing. Why would Will think he died? Where was he, and who had told him that? What is going on? Jay can feel the inappropriate giggle welling up inside his stomach again, and he presses his lips tightly together not to let it slip.

“Mouse?” Will’s voice cracks at the end, and another sob escapes him.

“Will, where are you at the moment?”

“I’m at Mount Sinai’s. Jay… he was attacked in an alley… and… and… he nearly died right there… and… no one knew where he was… he was all alone!” There is more sobbing on the other end before Will is able to talk coherently again. “I just found him… but when we came to the ICU, the doc said… he said… he… Jay… he died two hours ago… and I… I was too late… “

It breaks Jay’s heart to hear his brother like this. “I’m not dead, Will.” His voice is not as strong as he would have liked it to be, and he thinks the hoarseness and a little wheezing is still audible, but he needs his brother to hear him.

There is silence on the other end, then a loud thunk. “J-J-Jay?”

“Still here. Sorry to disappoint, but you won’t get rid of me that easily.” Jay tries for a teasing tone, but isn’t sure if he was successful.

“Jay?” Will’s voice sounds higher now. “Is that... is that really you?”

Jay looks at Mouse, alarmed, but Mouse just nods at him encouragingly, mouthing “talk to him”.

“Yeah. I’m here. I’m okay.” That earns him an eyeroll from Mouse. Right, maybe not okay, but not dead either.

“But… but…” They can hear a sob from the other end of the line. “Where… how… I thought… but the doc said… and… and… and…”

They can hear another voice in the background that comes closer, both of them not sure they understood correctly what the voice said. Something about identifying someone. Then Will’s voice is back again.

“No, it’s not. He’s on the phone… my brother… he’s alive, I think… I don’t know… I…”

“Shit.” Mouse frowns, keeping his voice low so it won’t carry over the speaker. “Maybe we should have told him in person.”

Jay nods at that and tries to make his voice carry more so Will can hear him over the crying, sobbing and freaking out. “Will, can you hear me?”

The other voice is closer now – Jay thinks he recognizes it as belonging to one of his docs in the ICU –, asking for Will’s name. “William Halstead.”

There is a sound that could be a surprised guffaw on the other end, and Jay and Mouse look at each other puzzled what could have triggered that. The voice of the ICU doc is closer now, soothing and calming, and Jay is glad someone is with Will. “Dr. Halstead, your brother is not our John Doe.”

“What? You already know that?” Will’s voice is squeaky now. “How? How do you know that?”

“I treated Jay Halstead the entire time he stayed here with us in the ICU. But we moved him out into another ward two days ago. He’s been snatched from the jaws of death at the last second and is on the mend.”

“Are you sure?” Will’s voice is still squeaky and trembling but he seems to get his composure back a little.

“WILL!” Mouse’s shout startles Jay a little, and he groans as the pain flares up at the sudden movement. But this is probably the only thing that gets Will’s attention back.

“I’m here. Still here. I’m with…” Will asks for the name of the doc in a slight whisper that they can still hear. “I’m here with a Doctor Voss, and… and… where are you?”

They can hear Dr. Voss tell Will to which ward Jay had been transferred and where to find it.

“I’m on my way. I’m…”

“Will, wait! Jay’s not in his room anymore. We’re actually on our way to Jay’s apartment.” Mouse interrupts, seeing that the painkillers will only carry his brother so far. They really need to get going, get Jay into his bed to rest.

“You’re WHAT?!? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Will, come on.” Jay’s voice is quiet, exhausted. He doesn’t have the strength to argue about this. “I needed to go home.”

“But you’re only two days out of ICU! Are you crazy? You should be in bed, resting, not driving all across town!”

“Drop it, Will.” Mouse’s voice starts to get the same cutting tone as it got with the doc in Jay’s ward.

“And YOU!” Will’s voice rises, and both Mouse and Jay look a little afraid Will might reach ultrasonic frequency soon. “Why are you even helping him! You should keep him in the hospital! Not enabling his craziness!”

“SHUT IT, WILL!” Mouse’s voice is as steely as it had been in Jay’s hospital room, and Jay loves him for it. “Jay would have left with or without me. And he’s right. Too many bad memories. And if he needs my help, and I can provide it, keeping an eye on him while doing so, I’ll always do it.”

“Mouse, I just… “

“You worry. And that’s fine. But we could really use your medical expertise. And…” Mouse squints over to his brother, who sits next to him, stiff as a board, but who gives him a tiny nod. “Jay really needs his older brother with him.”

Jay can actually hear Will deflate, the heart-wrenching sigh that escapes his brother joined by a sob. “I… I still can’t believe Jay’s alive.”

“I really am, Will. Talk to Dr. Voss. He knows everything that happened, everything you need to know. Maybe you could get some supplies and meet us at my apartment?” Jay swallows the lump in his throat and adds in a quieter, less confident tone. “That is if you’re not still too mad at me….”

“I’m sorry, Jay, I never… I really am…”

“You can talk later. We really need to get your brother home, Will. Meet us there.” Mouse turns the key and starts the ignition, letting the motor roar to live.

“Okay. I’ll... I’ll be there as quickly as I can. Please,… just… stay alive until I get there.”

“Will do. See you soon.” Jay closes his eyes and leans back onto the cool window.

Mouse ends the call and puts the truck into drive, carefully easing out of the parking lot and into traffic. Jay keeps his head leaned against the window, his gaze lazily drifting over the outside world that hasn’t stopped moving around the sun even though his own world stopped 12 days ago. He can feel Mouse gazing at him a few times, but his friend just leaves him be. The warmth of the cabin and the soft drone of the truck makes it nearly impossible to stay awake. His eyelids start drooping, but he fights the urge to sleep. He knows he’ll need to be awake again in a few minutes to make the trip up to his apartment.

When the truck stops and the motor dies, Jay is not that much surprised that he lost that fight and nodded off anyway. Opening his eyes, he stares at his apartment complex. He lives at the top and there is an elevator, but there are five steps to get to the front door, and the way he’s feeling at the moment, he’s not sure he will be able to make them.

“Surrender is not a Ranger word, brother.” Mouse quotes at him with a smile. “I’ll get you into your apartment.”

Jay just nods. This will suck big time. But it is what he wanted, where he wanted to be. Now he’ll power through like always.

Carefully, he unbuckles his seatbelt while Mouse rounds the truck to help him out. The little rest has actually restored a bit of energy, the pain meds are still working, and with his brother’s help, he slowly shuffles to the steps in front of his entrance way.

“How do you want to play this?” Mouse is already taking most of his weight, but it doesn’t seem to bother him. His brother has always been stronger than he looked, and now that he’s back in the game he’s fitter than ever. “Want to try it yourself, or want me to give you a lift?”

Jay really wants to get into his apartment under his own strength, but even the few steps to the base of the stairs have left him exhausted. His muscles quiver, his legs feel like jello again, and he knows he won’t make it up the stairs. Mouse can read every thought on his face, and just steps in front of him, pulling him closer and into a fireman carry, careful to put the least pressure on Jay’s bad left side.

There is still an explosion of pain, robbing him of the ability to breathe, and with Mouse’s first careful step up the stairs, Jay passes out.

When he wakes up again, he is lying in his own bed, his right casted hand a little elevated by cushions, his left side supported by blankets and ice packs, an iv running full bore in his left arm, and there is a nasal cannula blowing air into his nose. His upper body has been a little elevated, and he knows it makes it a lot easier to breathe that way.

This has “Will” written all over it. Looking over to his bedroom door, he notices that it’s not closed completely, and he can see light in his living room, can hear soft voices talking, someone rummaging around in his kitchen.

He has no idea how long he’s been out, but he feels rested and a little floaty. Will probably put some good pain medication into his iv.

Before he can start to think of a way to make himself heard, the door opens, and Will steps into his room, new icepacks in hand. Seeing Jay awake, he stops in his tracks, a big smile blooming on his face. He puts the icepacks down at the end of the bed and moves closer. Jay doesn’t have time to worry before he finds himself being enveloped in a hug. Will holds him tight, nearly pulling him into his lap, and buries his face into Jay’s hair. Jay can feel the trembling in Will’s shoulders, the sobs emitting from his older brother, and he holds him as tight as he’s able.

“I’m sorry, Will. I’m sorry.” It’s only a quiet whisper, but Will pulls away immediately, not really letting go of Jay, tears still streaming down his face, but he stares at him as if he had been slapped in the face.

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for. I am the one who needs to apologize. I… I don’t know how I will ever be able to make it up to you! I should have known you would never let me down. I should have known if you lied about not coming to the gala that there was a good reason. I…” He wipes at his eyes that keep welling up. “I met Gerry, and… and he showed me the ring, and… and all the pieces just fell into place! Why didn’t you tell me about Erin rejecting your proposal? I… I would never…”

“Will, I…”

“Jay, no.” Will shakes his head. “No. I’m sorry. That’s not on you. You were hurting, and I acted like a jerk. I wouldn’t have told myself anything either. I should have seen it. I’ve seen you after break-ups, and that’s exactly how you looked that day. I was just too… too absorbed in my self-righteous fury that I didn’t see it.”

“It’s okay, Will.”

“No, it’s not.” Will bows his head and wipes at his eyes again. “It took me too long to take a step back and really look at the situation. To see that this wasn’t your fault at all. And that I was hurting you even more.” He looks up at Jay again, and Jay can see the pain and despair in Will’s eyes. “And when I finally got that stick out of my ass, I nearly lost you. I thought I was too late. I thought…“ He gulps down a big lump. “I thought you had died thinking I was still mad at you.” Jay gets pulled into another warm hug. “I’m so glad you didn’t die, and I will do anything to show you that I’m not that much of a dickhead as I’ve been acting these last weeks.”

Jay can only nod, fighting his own tears. It soothes his soul that his brother has forgiven him for not showing up at his big event. That he knows it wasn’t out of spite or because he just didn’t want to go, but that he just couldn’t do it. “I didn’t propose to Erin.” His voice still sounds hoarse and croaky, but it’s a little stronger now.

Will pulls back again, studying him. “You didn’t? Why did you give Gerry the ring, then?”

“I planned on proposing the night of the gala. After the event. But she… she just broke up with me a few hours before we had to leave. Just… said she didn’t want to be with me anymore, that we should go our separate ways. And that she didn’t want to talk about it.” He takes a deep breath. Even after nearly two months, it still hurts how she just dropped him. Without giving him a reason. “Ever since, she’s been acting like I was the bad guy. Like I left her, or cheated on her, or something. I think the others on the team thought so, too.” He lets out a sigh. “When Gerry found me in that alley, I didn’t think I would make it. I just knew that it was the end, and I didn’t even fight it that much. With Gerry there I felt safe. Not alone. And I wanted him to make it to his daughter’s wedding. So, I gave him the ring. Now that I think about it, he probably won’t be able to do much with it. The pawnshops will think he stole it somewhere and won’t give him what it’s worth…”

Jay looks at Will, but his brother seems lost in his thoughts, guilt written all over his face.

“We’ll find Gerry and make it happen, Jay. Don’t worry about it.” Mouse leans against the doorframe of his room, and Jay gives him a grateful smile.

“Will?” Jay pats his brother’s arm, trying to get him out of his thoughts. “You okay?”

Will’s eyes spill over with tears again, and he shakes his head. “I… I talked to Gerry. He… he said you thought you had nothing left to fight for…. and… and…”

Jay feels the sadness flow through him. He never intended Will to know that, or Mouse. “I’m sorry, Will. It just felt that way at that time. I… I was dying. And…” He takes a tentative deeper breath. “Erin had left me, and you kicked me out of your life, and Mouse was off fighting a war, and my team… well, they seemed like they didn’t trust me anymore, that they were all ‘Team Erin’ without even knowing the details. I just felt alone, and scared, and… out of options.”

“I’m so sorry to have let you down like this. I…”

“Stop, Will. I know you’re sorry. We both should have acted differently. I shouldn’t have lied to you, and I shouldn’t have drunk myself into oblivion that evening, because then I would have been able to counter your ranting and tell you what really happened. But I did do all that, and I’m sorry.”

They both fall silent, and Jay can already feel the exhaustion pulling at him again, wanting him to sleep some more. His eyes droop to half-mast, and he can barely keep his head up.

“Rest for a while. We’re making something to eat, then it’s time for more pain meds and your antibiotic. I just need to check your blood sugar, first.”

Will rises and moves to the little table at Jay’s bedside, pulling out a little device and a pin. “This will just sting a little.” He wipes a small disinfecting cloth over Jay’s ring finger and pricks him with the pin. Blood wells up immediately, and Will uses the device to catch one of the drops. After only five seconds the device gives a little beep, and Will nods, seeming satisfied. “140, that’s a little high, but still okay.”

Jay looks at his brother, concern rising inside of him. “What do you mean?”

Will sighs. “Dr. Voss told me that your pancreas has been nearly destroyed in the attack. And you need that to produce insulin which breaks down your blood sugar or moves it into cells. If your pancreas isn’t producing enough insulin it has to be provided from outside. It’s still too early to tell if this is permanent, but if it is, and your pancreas doesn’t produce as much insulin as you need, you might need to inject it on a regular basis.”

Jay frowns. That sounds complicated. “But if I have to inject that regularly, what about work?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not as big a deal as it sounds. There are insulin sensors you can put under your skin and insulin-pumps that regulate the insulin flow. You would just be like a type 1 diabetic. Doesn’t keep you from leading a normal life. Okay?”

Jay nods, but a tight knot forms in the pit of his stomach. Will doesn’t understand the extent of what he just said. If he is dependent on insulin, he will never be able to do an undercover assignment. Too risky. He doesn’t know much about diabetes, but he knows about sugar and carbs and proteins. And about physical exercise. If his body can’t regulate his blood sugar levels by itself, how can he keep up with his physically strenuous job? He will not only never be able to do an uc, but he will never work as a detective again. He will be medically retired.

He feels nauseated. It looks like he did one step forward with having Will back in his life and two steps back. Not only did Voight kick him out of Intelligence, he will never work as a cop again. Closing his eyes, he feels the weight of the emotional pain wash over him, multiplying the physical pain tenfold, pulling him down into a dark black hole.

“You just rest a little longer while we finish cooking, okay?”

Jay doesn’t open his eyes and just nods. He feels Will moving away and out of the room, and he lets go of the mask he tried to hold in place to not show his big brother how affected he was by his news. He knew it would take a while to recover from this attack, but up until now he held firm to the belief that he could recover completely. At least physically. He wipes away a tear that tries to make it out of his eye and takes a shuddering breath.

“He didn’t realize what he just told you, did he?”

Jay startles and opens his eyes, seeing Mouse at his bedside. His brother has a frown on his face, and Jay knows that Mouse completely understands where his thoughts went.

Shaking his head, he looks at the half-open door through which his big brother just disappeared. “No. He doesn’t know that would probably retire me medically. I could maybe ride a desk, but…”

“That’s just not us.”

“Yeah.”

Mouse squeezes his right arm gently. “We’re not there yet. Like Will said, it’s too early to predict the outcome. Your pancreas might recover enough for you not to need any additional insulin. We’ll just have to wait and see. You’re a sniper. If I know something, it’s that you have patience in abundance.”

“And what if I won’t recover? What will I do then?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. You and me, we’ve been through so much already. And you’ve made it through the tough times much better than I did. I’m sure you’ll find a way to keep protecting people. Because that’s you. A protector. And there are a million ways to do that. We’ll figure something out.”

Jay nods gratefully at his brother. Mouse just always knows what Jay needs to hear. “Thank you, brother.”

Mouse smiles at him and pulls something out of his back pocket. “While you were sleeping, I got you a new phone. I already installed everything you had on your previous phone, it even has the same number.” He hands over a phone and frowns a little. “There are a few messages from someone who really wants to talk to you about the warehouse incident and your suspension. Judging by the last message, your suspension has been lifted and you are on sick leave, but they still need to talk to you.”

Jay nods. “I’ll call them after eating something. We might need to make a trip to the district. We could get my stuff at the same time. Don’t think I will be working at the 21^st, no matter what happens with my pancreas.”

“All right. Will borrowed a nice wheelchair for you, so I won’t have to carry you all the time, and you won’t have to pass out every time we need to go anywhere. I’ll go get it now, so we can have a nice meal and talk Will into letting us go to the district.”

Jay groans at that. Yes, that will be a challenge. Will will probably freak out, but they really need to go. He needs to talk to the committee, and maybe after all that is done, they might be able to get out of Chicago for a while. Maybe drive to their cabin in Wisconsin. Fresh air, a comfy bed, nature and quiet.

To think about his future. To mourn all that he’s lost. His girl. His job. The people he thought of as family. To recover from everything that was broken.

And to plan ahead for all eventualities.

Chapter Text

Thursday, June 28^th

Jay looks exhausted. Mouse can see that his brother is done for the day, even though it’s only 11 am. Quietly, he steps next to Jay who slowly rises from the chair he’s occupied the last few hours, going over every detail of the warehouse raid that has gone so badly, answering questions, explaining every single one of his moves, until the committee members were satisfied.

After Jay had finished his detailed report and answered the last question, the chairman of the committee told Jay that they had viewed the footage from the warehouse, and his description matches the events on the footage to the dot. They cleared him for the fatal shooting of Emmet Walker, and told him that his suspension had already been lifted. They told him that the investigation isn’t closed yet, hinting that it would focus now on other aspects of the raid. It sounds to Mouse as if they are taking Erin under closer scrutiny. And from what he heard here in this meeting today, he thinks that’s an excellent idea. There is something wrong with that woman.

Mouse had been grudgingly allowed to attend the meeting, only after Jay told the committee if Mouse wasn’t allowed to stay, he wouldn’t either. And it’s a good thing he did. All through the interview, Mouse has seen how the events of that day have taken a toll on his brother, and he can see the emotional hurt Jay has carried around with him since then, pulling him down without any support from his friends or family.

Yesterday afternoon, there had been a long discussion about this trip today. As both Jay and Mouse had predicted, Will freaked out at the idea of Jay going to the district to talk to the committee, saying he wasn’t strong enough, that this trip might throw his recovery back. But Jay hadn’t budged, and Mouse supported his brother. Jay needed to get this out of the world to concentrate on healing. Will finally agreed under the condition that Mouse wouldn’t leave his side, that they would come back home the second the meeting was over, and that Jay would rest more yesterday after their meal and the rest of today. This weren’t unreasonable demands, and Jay had agreed readily.

When they left this morning for the 21^st, Jay had looked well rested and not as pale as the evening before. Before Will had left for work, he had given Jay a cocktail of painkillers, ones that would take most of his pain away without making him all loopy. And it had worked. Jay nearly looked back to normal as soon as the cocktail took effect, and they even left the wheelchair at Jay’s.

A stupid idea, Mouse realizes now. His brother really could use that chair now. But he’ll get him back to the truck one way or another, though he knows Jay would die of embarrassment if Mouse had to carry him out of the district.

“Ready to get out of here?”

Jay wobbles a little on his feet but nods slowly. Mouse snakes his right arm around Jay’s waist and pulls his left arm over his shoulders, helping to support Jay’s weight. Before they get to the door, Jay slows down a little, and Mouse knows what this is about. He loosens his grip, letting go of Jay’s left arm, which he pulls back to his side immediately. Mouse understands. Jay just doesn’t want to be seen like this by anyone, doesn’t want anyone to think of him as weak when he’s already feeling so vulnerable.

When they arrived early in the morning, they took the route through the rollup to preferably avoid anyone Jay knew, and it worked. Mouse can see how much it hurts Jay to be back here, how much it would hurt him to see pity in the eyes of his colleagues. Now all he has to do, is get his brother back to the rollup without meeting anyone from his team. This will be far more difficult than this morning, as they need to pass the doors to the bullpen, and if the doors aren’t closed this will be impossible to achieve, but he has to try anyway.

They step out into the corridor. Nearing noon, there are more people in the hallways than there were this morning. Jay keeps his eyes low, pulls his cap down over his face and stays close to the wall. Mouse takes a protective position on his side, shielding him from getting bumped by people rushing by and keeping a steadying hand on Jay’s back. Just in case.

When they near the doors to the bullpen, Mouse can see that the doors are halfway open. From inside they can hear a familiar rough voice. Voight.

Mouse feels Jay tense next to him, his walk slowing a little. Inadvertently, Jay moves closer to the doors, leaning heavily on the wall, still out of sight from the inside but well into earshot. Voight’s voice drifts out of the room, clearly audible from where they are standing.

“… Kim is awake and talking. She has a long way to recover completely and return to us, but she will.” Mouse can see Jay letting out a relieved sigh. It’s good to know that she’s on the mend, too, even if it takes a while for her to recover. There is a soft pause before they can hear Voight again. “Now to someone who won’t return to us. Let us raise our glasses to Detective Jay Halstead. Joining the CPD after serving his country as a decorated Army Ranger, he’s been good police for over ten years before joining us here in Intelligence. To a great detective, who never gave up, no matter how much he was told to let something go! To the man, who was the impersonation of loyalty and dedication. To…”

Mouse feels sickened by Voight’s twisted sense of humor. Giving a speech that sounds like an eulogy  just because he kicked Jay off the team. By the look of it Jay finds it as inappropriate as he does. His pale skin tone has turned even whiter, and his breaths have turned to shallow pants. But before Mouse can do anything, there is another voice coming out of the bullpen, a female voice that is strong and cutting at the same time. Mouse doesn’t know who it is, but he can see that Jay recognizes the voice, mouthing a name under his breath, looking surprised.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Sergeant Voight, but I need to talk to you.”

“This is not the right time, Barbara. Can this wait?” Voight sounds a little annoyed.

“Unfortunately, it can’t. We are here to talk to you about the attack on Jay Halstead and Marty Rivers. We were only now informed that Detective Halstead passed away yesterday, making this a double homicide.”

WTF? Why would that woman be informed that Jay died yesterday? Jay’s gaze finds Mouse’s and he can see that his brother is as confused as he is. Will had told them that the doctor of the ICU promised to let the team know about the mix-up, that Jay wasn’t the John Doe that passed away. Didn’t the Detective get notified, too?

But she keeps on talking. “And as we are here on official business, I would appreciate it, if we could stick with Detective Gall. This is my partner, Detective Warner. Maybe we should step into your office.”

“We are a very close-knit team here. Anything you have to say that concerns Halstead, concerns all of us.”

“All right, your choice. I offered.” They can hear the woman let out a sigh. “I came here to ask you about your connection to Jason Cunningham.”

There is silence in the room, and Al’s voice is heard next. “Who is Jason Cunningham?”

“That’s someone Halstead thought might be an upcoming drug boss in the city.” It sounds dismissing, but Mouse can hear Voight’s voice getting tighter, like he’s getting pissed. “So, when you called me about Cunningham the other day, you were already investigating the attack on my detective?”

“So now he’s your detective again? It didn’t sound like he was when we talked. You even warned me not to take the tip too seriously if it came from Detective Halstead.”

There is a tense silence in the room. Mouse watches his brother listen to all this, and it breaks his heart to witness how much more pain it inflicts on his already bruised soul. He steps closer, wanting to guide Jay away, but he just shakes his head.

“Well, I was really pissed at him at the time. Still am about what went down at the warehouse.” Voight grounds out.

“Pissed enough to ignore the information he gave you concerning your case? Or did you just not act on it because you wanted to protect Jason Cunningham?” The voice of Detective Gall gets more cutting with every question, and Mouse can hear the gasps from the other people in the room.

“What information? He never gave us any information.” Voight gets louder, more accusing, like he is trying to stress that none of this is his fault.

There is a short pause, and then Jay’s voice floats through the room.

“Hey Sarge, it’s Halstead. I just met with Kyle’s brother, Marty, the man who tipped us about the meet in the warehouse this morning. He gave me new information that’ll crack this case. Walker was supposed to meet a man named Jason Cunningham. He’s been distributing the drugs to all the major players in the city. And to keep them in line, prevent them from screwing him over, he has added bad batches. Cunningham has an apartment on the seafront, and according to Marty, he covers everything with his legit business. I’m sure with a little digging and Marty’s testimony, we’ll get the guy. Marty’s scared shitless, with his brother already dead, and he suspects Cunningham already thinks he talked to us. He needs protection. Told him to get his daughter and get to the 21^st, ask for you or Al. That you would protect them… okay, that’s it. Bye.”

The last word isn’t even played before the room erupts in chaos. There is talking and screaming, accusations being thrown around and even a loud thud that might be someone punching the wall. Mouse studies his brother, who has closed his eyes, looking more exhausted than ever.

A sharp whistle rings through the bullpen, stopping the commotion instantly. “Thank you, Alec. The question is, why didn’t you act on this information? Why didn’t you go looking for Mr. Rivers when he never showed up at the district? And why did you delete that voicemail from your phone?”

The silence in the room can be cut with a knife. “I never listened to it. Didn’t want to hear Halstead whine or beg to get his job back. Thought there was nothing he could say to give him his job back, and there just wasn’t anything I wanted to hear from him. So, I just deleted it.”

“Yeah, right.” The male voice is unfamiliar, but Mouse thinks it must be Detective Gall’s partner. But before he can talk more, Kevin chimes in.

“Hold on a second! If Jay got the information on Cunningham, can’t we postpone this discussion and dig into Jay’s info? To get Cunningham off the streets! Because all that what Jay just relayed here lets all the puzzle pieces of our case fit nicely together! He solved our case all by himself! Let’s go get Cunningham!”

“Thank you, Officer Atwater, but that has already been taken care of. In our investigation on the attacks on Halstead and Rivers, we actually acted on the intelligence we gathered and raided Cunningham’s place yesterday morning, took him into custody and got the people responsible for the murder of Halstead and Rivers.”

‘the murder of Halstead’? Why was no one contradicting her? The team knows that Jay isn’t dead. So, why on earth is no one telling her that? Wouldn’t it look better for them, for Voight if it wasn’t a double homicide? Seeing Jay’s confused face, he knows his brother is thinking along the same lines.

“We are simply here to determine if Sergeant Voight, or any of you, were aware of this information, and by holding them back being accomplice to the murder of Detective Halstead.”

“What?” The room erupts in questions again, but another whistle from Detective Warner gets his colleague the needed attention.

“There is more to the voicemail than you already heard. Keep listening.”

The room falls completely silent again. From out in the hall, Mouse and Jay don’t hear much, but Jay lowers his head to rest his chin on his chest. Mouse can make out a distant muffled voice – Jay’s – calling for Marty. “You didn’t stop recording?” Mouse’s quiet whisper is nearly inaudible, but Jay hears him and just shrugs.

A sickening crunch and a beep signal the end of the recording. After that, there is absolute silence in the bullpen. Not a cough, no shuffling of feet. Nothing.

“I talked to the committee that is investigating the warehouse incident and was allowed to read the statements from everyone who was there. I talked to Detective Halstead about it, and I watched the video footage. It is a complete mystery to me why Detective Lindsey’s statement differs that much from Halstead’s and the video footage. The committee wanted to talk to Halstead in person before releasing their official statement of his involvement, but I can already tell you that he will be cleared from all accusations. He didn’t do anything wrong that morning. On the contrary. He tried to saved both his teammates. If not for him, Detective Lindsay and Officer Burgess would be dead now. He even got shot twice in the vest for his trouble, but all he got from this ‘close-knit team’ was a dressing down. I’m not even sure he was checked out by paramedics at the scene.”

“Jay was shot?” Kevin sounds devastated, but Adam continues, sounding more indignant. “Why didn’t he tell us?”

Mouse huffs out a snort and shakes his head. Is Ruzek being serious? Doesn’t he know Jay at all? Mouse doesn’t need to have seen that video they are talking about to know that of course Jay was protecting his two teammates, and of course he would have put their safety before his own. He notices Jay rubbing at his side absentmindedly. Probably where the bullets hit the vest. What kind of bullshit did Erin tell them that they rather believed her than Jay?

Again, there is silence in the bullpen. And again, it’s Detective Gall that breaks it. “There will be an investigation on Detective Lindsay’s conduct in that raid. She’s been suspended for now. We couldn’t find any connection between her and Cunningham, though. If she acted like this because of her personal relationship with Detective Halstead, or better the relationship she broke off, this will most likely lead to more than just a few weeks unpaid suspension and a reprimand. There might be legal consequences for her.”

In the following pause, the quiet mumble of Al is louder than he probably anticipated. “Looks like Erin actually has more Bunny in her than we all thought her capable of.”

No one says anything to that statement, but Mouse agrees wholeheartedly. He had always thought of Erin as a manipulative, egoistical bitch. But as someone with a long history of questionable relationship choices who was he to tell his brother who to date. Especially as Jay had been happy. For a while.

Detective Gall still isn’t finished. “From what I’ve seen here, I don’t think any of you had any knowledge of Detective Lindsay’s motives or the attack on Halstead and Marty by order of Jason Cunningham. It still can’t be denied, that if you hadn’t ignored that voicemail, Detective Halstead might still be alive.”

It looks like Jay has heard enough, and he uses the silence that follows to step into the bullpen. Mouse follows close on his heels, ready to catch him if he stumbles. “I’m not dead, Detective Gall. And I’m really sorry the hospital didn’t inform you about this.”

If all of this wasn’t so horrible, the situation would be comical. Mouse watches Adam’s face go from sad to disbelief, watches Kevin’s and Al’s from devastated to joyful, watches the detective’s and her partner’s, both like the rest of the team sporting a black band around their upper arm, go from disbelief to honest relief. Only exception, of course, being Voight, whose stoic mask doesn’t reveal any emotion. Detective Gall finds her voice first, and she steps up to Jay, enveloping him in a careful hug. Mouse can see that she really cares about his brother and is genuinely relieved that he’s still alive. It takes a while before she lets go of Jay, her eyes suspiciously moist. “I’m glad you made it. And are well enough to walk. Seeing you on that first day after your first surgery, I never thought you would make it. And when we did the interview not even a week ago, you still looked so bad I readily believed that you could have died. I’m sorry I doubted your perseverance.”

“Thank you, Detective. I’m sorry you were informed of my death. I can’t fathom how that happened.”

She gives him a warm smile. “The hospital called me a couple of times since yesterday, but with all that was going on, I missed it.”

She steps away from Jay, letting her partner greet Jay, and turns back to the stunned team. “It doesn’t change much. And I stand by my words. Everything I learned about Detective Halstead here and this team during my investigation, I just have to tell you, you are lucky you had him. But he deserves better. A better boss and better teammates. It’s a pity his loyalty and dedication didn’t rub off on any of you.” She turns back to Jay. “When you’re back and need a change of scenery, Homicide will take you in a heartbeat.”

And with that she and her partner move to the back stairs, leaving behind the baffled team and an awkward silence.

Jay shuffles slowly towards his desk. “Just came to talk to the committee and get my stuff.” He moves past his teammates who make room for him, seemingly afraid to say anything. Just before he reaches his desk, Voight’s rough voice rings out.

“Halstead. A word in my office.”

Jay looks at his boss. His former boss. Mouse can read the indecision though he’s sure the others can’t see it. Jay looks at him, silently asking for his opinion. Mouse can’t give him any good advice but thinks it wouldn’t hurt to hear what Voight has to say, so he gives a slight nod. Who knows, it might be the day Hell freezes over, and Jay might actually get an apology. Stranger things have happened.

He follows behind Jay, only to be stopped by Voight’s hand on his chest. Slowly, Mouse looks down on that hand and back up right into the emotionless eyes. His voice takes a steely tone, even though he tries to control his anger at this man. “Get your hand off of me.”

“I only want to talk to Halstead. He’s a grown man and doesn’t need you to babysit. Just wait out here.”

“I go where Jay goes. And there is nothing you can do to stop me.”

Hank looks like he’s about to argue, not taking his hand off Mouse’s chest, but Jay isn’t having any of it. “Sarge, if you want to talk to me, Mouse will be there. If he has to leave, I will, too.”

Giving Mouse one last of his ‘I’m going to kill you’ stares that have completely lost their meaning to Mouse, Voight takes his hand away and moves inside his office, rounding his desk to sit down. Mouse closes the door behind him and takes a seat behind his brother, who has carefully lowered his obviously tired body into the chair in front of the sergeant’s desk.

Voight studies Jay for a while, keeping his silence, probably hoping for Jay to break it first. But his brother isn’t here to justify any of his actions. Voight wanted this conversation. He needs to start talking. And by the look of stubborn determination Mouse can see on Jay’s face, Voight better start talking soon, or Jay will just walk out of here.

Voight takes a deep breath, still studying Jay. “You look like shit. But I’m glad you’re alive.”

Jay nods at that. What else can he do? What a shitty way to start this conversation, but what did Mouse expect.

“Of course, I will have to look at the footage myself, but if it is as Barbara just told us, it looks like Erin gaslit us all into thinking that you were the one at fault for the clusterfuck at the warehouse. From our point of view, it really looked that way. You were the one repeatedly asking about the procedure once Walker arrived, getting more pissed every time I told you to hold until we got there.”

“That wasn’t why I was getting pissed. I knew we needed to wait for you. Erin kept urging me to ask again. And again.”

Voight doesn’t react to this, just goes on. “And you were the one making the decision to go into the warehouse after Walker, against my direct order.”

“Wasn’t my decision. Like I told you before. Erin decided to go after Walker. I tried to stop her but she didn’t listen and moved out of the car, taking Kim with her. Same at the warehouse entrance. I was just the one to let you know where we were, so you wouldn’t shoot us by accident on entry.” Jay crosses his arms over his chest, taking a more defensive position, and Mouse studies his brother, ready to get him out of here if it starts getting too much. But Jay is holding his own against Voight.

“All right. I just wanted you to see our point of view, too. And when it comes to Erin, you know what she means to me, and what we’ve been through together. I’ve always tried to protect her from harm, but I fear I might not be able to shield her from this. But maybe we can make a deal, help each other.”

Mouse’s mouth drops open, but he closes it quickly, glad that neither Jay nor Hank had seen it. He already knows what Voight will ask of Jay! How dare he? Protect Erin of all people! After all she did to Jay! He can see Jay lean back deeper into his chair, the knuckles of his left hand tightly grabbing his hoody.

“What are you saying here, Sarge?”

“I know I might have acted a little rash throwing you off the team, so I’m willing to take you back into Intelligence. I know that’s what you always wanted, and you are one hell of a detective. A real asset to this team. I know I haven’t said that often enough. So, as soon as you are recovered, you have your job back here with us.”

“On what condition?”

“No condition. I would just appreciate if you, as part of this team, this family, help protect Erin, as you have always done with everyone on this team. It’s not like she wants to come back to Intelligence. She wants to move to New York, give the FBI field office there a chance. To be closer to her mother, you know, keep an eye on her. But if there are charges against her from this raid, it will be impossible for her to do that.”

Jay stays silent, and Mouse can see how it is working in him. He’s actually considering doing this!

“All you would have to do, is make your statement open for interpretation. For her to have made a fatal mistake instead of moving in despite a direct order, purposefully endangering her two teammates.”

“But that’s what she did.”

Voight tilts his head from side to side. “Eh… I don’t really think she wanted to hurt you or Kim. But that’s what the committee will say, not only destroying her career as a police detective, robbing her of a chance to take care of her mother, but maybe even get her a prison sentence.” He looks at Jay intensely, before playing his trump card. “I know how much she meant to you, how much she still means to you. I don’t think you will ever be indifferent towards her. And I know you will never want anything to harm her, even if you’re not together anymore. What do you say?”

Mouse is glad Jay doesn’t agree at once but chews on his lower lip, deep in thought. “I’ll have to think about it.”

Voight nods, and Jay slowly gets up from his chair, Mouse instantly at his side to give support if needed.

“We don’t have an infinite amount of time on this. We’ll have to move quickly for this to work, so I’ll need your decision by the end of the week.”

Mouse snorts. It’s already Thursday. Not a lot of time for Jay to think about it. And all this on top of his physical and mental state. Voight really doesn’t know what he’s asking here. Mouse knows even under normal circumstances, Jay would struggle with a decision like this. His moral compass just points true north. But throwing in that it’s Erin, Mouse isn’t sure anymore what Jay’s decision will be.

Jay nods at Voight and makes his way carefully out of his office. In the bullpen, the others are still gathered around Jay’s desk, still awkwardly staring at Jay but avoiding direct eye contact with him. Mouse think it’s pathetic. Grown men should stand up for their mistakes. Yes, they had been misled by Erin, but still they had treated Jay like scum. And Mouse can see that Jay isn’t up for more emotional baggage, not up for any excuses or apologies.

“Why don’t you go get the stuff from your locker, and I’ll grab your stuff from your desk?”

Jay nods gratefully and turns left towards the locker room. Mouse can see Adam get up off the desk to follow Jay. He plants himself firmly in Adam’s way, blocking access to his brother.

“No, Adam. Back off.”

“I just want to talk to him.”

“Adam. Back off.” Mouse’s voice gets tight and steely.

“Come on, Mouse. Let me talk to Jay.”

“I said no.”

Adam shoves him in the chest, stepping closer and into Mouse’s personal space. “Who do you think you are, telling me I can’t talk to my friend!”

Mouse doesn’t back away, his posture changing into a more aggressive stance, his eyes piercing Adam’s. “I’m his only friend at the moment. His best friend, his brother. The one who will always stay at his side no matter what, the one that will protect him from things he can’t protect himself from. And right now, he doesn’t need your apology, Adam. He doesn’t need you to make excuses why you dropped him like a hot stone. He doesn’t need to hear why you so readily believed that he would endanger Erin or Kim just to get a little revenge. What he needs right now is to get his stuff and go home to rest. To try and recover from the wounds of that black Friday. The physical ones as well as the emotional ones.” Mouse leans forward a little, getting even closer to Adam. “So, I’ll say it only one more time: Back. The. Fuck. Off.”

“Fuck you!” Adam tries to shoulder his way around Mouse, but Mouse has him face down on the floor in a blur of motion, Adam’s left arm stretched painfully behind his back in an unnatural angle, his wrist bent to the breaking point, and Mouse’s right knee leaning on Adam’s back. A high-pitched yelp escapes Adam, but otherwise he stays completely still, and Mouse knows he’s too afraid to move, afraid for his wrist to break.

“Ge’offme!” Adam’s voice is muffled by the floor and strained from pain.

Mouse leans forward towards Adam’s ear, taking the outstretched arm with him, eliciting another pained yelp from Adam. “I warned you. Jay needs his space now. He needs quiet and time to heal. Real friends around him. Not people who abandon him at the first sight of trouble. Do you understand that now?”

Adam nods, panting through the pain, and Mouse lets go of his hand, pushing up from Adam’s back with his knee, maybe a little too hard. “Good.”

He watches Adam struggle into a seating position, cradling his left arm and rubbing his wrist with his right hand, shooting daggers at Mouse and looking for help from Kevin and Al. Both just shake their heads at him, but Kevin gives him a helping hand to get him back on his feet.

Mouse turns to the three man. “Before you even try to make any apologies to Jay or look for a way to downplay what happened, maybe think on this. If Voight hadn’t ignored and deleted that voicemail, only because he was pissed at his detective, Jay would have gotten help much faster. He wouldn’t have been bleeding out in that alley all night long to the point that he needed to be resuscitated. And he probably wouldn’t have had to fight for his life for days in the hospital afterwards, adding blood loss and hypoxia to the inflicted injuries.” His voice gets more accusing, talking himself into a rage. “When Jay told me about this team, it always felt like he was talking about more than friends, like he was talking about family.” He can’t hold back a snort, but continues. “Not what I experienced when I worked here, be that as it may. But if this team is so close-knit as you all think you are, where were all of you when your friend, your family, was in that hospital, fighting for his life? None of you bothered to show up there.”

“We didn’t know he was there.” Adam’s voice sounds small but defiant.

“YOU DIDN’T KNOW?” Mouse explodes, his volume rising. “And why is that, Adam? Huh? Why didn’t you know? Because you were so busy pointing an accusing finger at Jay. Because none of you thought it weird that Jay didn’t answer any of your calls or text messages. For 12 days you just forgot about your friend. Did you really think he would go sulking like a little child, drowning his sorrow in alcohol somewhere, stopping to talk to any of you and leaving all of you to close the case that was so personal to him? Have you even met Jay?!? He went after Lonnie Rodiger for YEARS! Despite a restraining order and instructions from his superiors to let it go. It didn’t stop him then, and it wouldn’t have stopped him now!” Mouse points to all of them with his finger, his voice dropping in tone and volume, getting more menacing. “And you know what the worst part is? The worst part is, that even if he chooses to forgive you all – and, sadly, knowing him that is a real possibility –, and if he wants to come back to Intelligence, he might actually not be able to do it. There is a good chance that his injuries might retire him medically. All because Voight threw a temper tantrum like a five-year-old, and none of you could be bothered to check on a friend, who had been shot twice the same day protecting his teammates.”

“Mouse.”

Mouse whips around, seeing Jay leaning against the doorframe to the bullpen. Instantly, he moves to his brother’s side, taking the big duffle bag with Jay’s things. “Let’s get you out of here.”

“Thank you.” Jay gives him a tired smile, and Mouse knows his brother has heard his rant and doesn’t mind being the one being protected by someone else for once.

They leave the three men standing in the middle of the bullpen. Jay doesn’t look back, but Mouse does. Adam stands there, still rubbing his left wrist, looking like a petulant child, clearly not seeing his own error in this. Kevin looks devastated. Mouse knows from Will how Kevin and Al helped track down Jay yesterday. How Kevin really was worried for Jay, how Will could see that Kevin knew he had dropped the ball with Jay and was sorry beyond belief. Al just looks defeated. He’s probably the only one who can guess what Voight was offering Jay, and he’s also probably the only one who knows that Jay will never accept the deal. Because, even if Mouse can’t be 100% sure about it, and even if he knows that with time Jay will find excuses for Kevin, Al and Adam and will forgive them, he knows Jay will never again trust Voight enough to work under him. And Al knows that, too.

They make their way down into the entrance hall, Mouse supporting most of Jay’s weight again, but as soon as they turn the corner and the front desk comes into sight, a high-pitched shriek silences the wild bustle that is the norm in the entrance hall. Jay only has time to grab tightly onto the handrail before he’s crushed by a fierce hug. Mouse extends a hand to hold them steady, smiling to himself as the grumpy desk sergeant sobs into Jay’s shoulder.

It takes a few minutes before Trudy is able to pull back a little. “You’re really not dead? I’m not hallucinating?” Her voice is rough and hitching, tears still streaming down her face.

“I’m sorry for the misunderstanding, Sergeant Platt.”

“It’s Trudy. People who come back from the dead can call me Trudy.” She pulls him closer again. “I really thought we lost you, Chuckles. It broke my heart.”

Jay actually chuckles a little, patting the sergeant on the back. “You know, Trudy, it’s Detective Chuckles again. They lifted the suspension.”

Laugh-crying she pulls back again and gives him a light smack on his left arm, but her eyes show warmth and concern. “You look dead on your feet. Come, sit down for a moment.”

Together with Trudy, Mouse maneuvers his brother down the stairs and into the small office opposite the front desk. She hollers through the hall for one of her officers to bring some coffee, then closes the door behind her. Jay has already collapsed into one of the chairs, looking utterly exhausted. Apart from the pale skin and the faster breathing, Mouse thinks there is a light wheezing, and Jay’s skin feels warm and sweaty.

Mouse drops the bag on the floor and gets down on one knee in front of Jay, taking his vitals, pulling a little blood sugar machine out of his pocket. Jay lets him do whatever he needs, and when the little machine beeps, showing a blood sugar of 179, Mouse frowns a little. “Will will kill me if he sees you like this. And your blood sugar is still too high, even with all that exertion and us not having anything for lunch yet. We really need to get you home quickly.” Jay just nods, seemingly too tired to answer. “I’ll get the truck around right in front of the entrance so you don’t have to walk all around the building.” Jay starts to protest, but Mouse just shakes his head, putting one hand up to silence him. “OR I could carry you all the way through the building to the rollup where we parked the truck this morning. Just like I did yesterday.” Jay chuckles and waves his left hand dismissively. “Thought so.” Mouse turns to the desk sergeant. “Do you mind…? Could you…?”

Trudy has grabbed Jay’s left hand and runs small circles on the back of his hand with her thumb. “Of course, I’ll stay with him. Just get your truck. And if anyone gives you grief for parking right in front of the doors, just tell them I told you to do that.”

Mouse nods and turns to the door, smiling. For all the rough and gruff demeanor, the woman actually cares a lot about Jay. Looking back at the pair, he thinks they will be lucky if Jay isn’t already asleep when he returns with the truck. His friend really looks dead on his feet, dark circles under his eyes, the skin pale and sweaty, his whole posture screaming pain and exhaustion.

Mouse rushes outside and quickly parks the truck right in front of the entrance. A few of the officers start demanding he move his truck, but as soon as he tells them who told him to park there, they stop pestering him. One of them actually stays at Mouse’s truck to make sure none of the others will remove it from there.

Taking two steps at a time up the stairs, Mouse rushes back inside, finding Jay halfway to sleep. Between Trudy and himself, they get Jay to mobilize his last reserves and move with them out of the office and down the front steps to Mouse’s truck. When they reach the bottom step, Jay wakes up a little more and realizes where he is. He halts in his step and turns slowly around, taking a good long look at the entrance hall.

“Might be the last time…” It’s a quiet mumble, but both Mouse and Trudy hear it. They share a look behind Jay’s back, but only Mouse knows that it might be true.  

They get Jay into the truck, and Trudy says her goodbyes to them, her eyes suspiciously moist again. Jay promises to let her know how he’s doing, and that seems to calm her a little. She still stays at the curb, watching them pull away and move into traffic. Mouse can see her waving in the back mirror until he turns a corner.

Predictably, Jay falls asleep on their way home. Mouse doesn’t mind carrying him upstairs again. It was his own fault that they left the wheelchair at the apartment. As soon as Jay is settled in his bed, Mouse starts making preparations for their departure the next morning. They had decided last night on Jay’s request, that they would go to their cabin in Wisconsin. The drive isn‘t too long, and it would give Jay distance from Chicago, from all the pain he has endured here. A place to truly heal. Will thought he might get off tomorrow so he could come with them to get Jay settled there, but they said it would be better if Will kept his vacation days for the time when Mouse’s leave will be up. Though he might be able to extend it for a week or two, eventually he will have to go back.

Jay sleeps through the rest of the day while Mouse rummages around in his apartment, getting everything ready. Late in the evening, Will drops by after his shift. He looks as exhausted as Jay did on their way home from the district, but he checks on his little brother as soon as he enters the apartment. According to him, Jay’s vitals keep steady and they will draw blood in the morning to check his kidney and look for infections. Will also wants to get rid of the sutures before they leave for Wisconsin, but over all Will looks satisfied. When he’s done, they sit down on the couch with beers, and Mouse fills him in on everything that happened today. On the committee ruling, on everything they heard from the bullpen, on Detective Gall and her investigation, on the pending investigation on Erin, on Voight’s offered deal and on the confrontation with the team. Will takes it surprisingly well. Mouse knows Will is as protective of his younger brother as he is, but feels guilty of having pushed his brother away over a bruised ego. He vents a little to Mouse, careful not to wake Jay. It seems like Will doesn’t want his brother to know what he thinks about all of this. He wants Jay to make his own decision on where to go for his future, and Mouse can only agree.

They discuss at length why no one, not the team nor Detective Gall, was informed of the mix up at the hospital. Will decides to call the ICU to find out. Dr. Voss isn’t on shift, but his colleague tells Will that they only had Detective Gall’s number on file, and Dr. Voss actually tried several times to call her without success. They weren’t able to call the team because none of them left a number. None of them was known as a friend of Jay’s.

Mouse knows it’s petty, but he still feels a little satisfied that they believed Jay dead for a whole day. Just served all of them right for leaving his brother out in the rain.

After that, they fall silent, drinking their beer quietly, both lost in their thoughts, and by 2 am they are both fast asleep on the couch.

Chapter Text

Friday, June 29th

He opens his eyes in a dimly lit room. Squinting his eyes, letting them roam around the room, he tries to figure out where he is. An orange glow at the seams of familiar blackout curtains lets him see just enough to recognize his own bedroom. He has no idea how he got here but can make an educated guess. Mouse. The last thing he remembers is saying his goodbyes to Sergeant Platt. No, Trudy. Her warmth and concern for him, her honest relief at seeing him, at knowing he didn’t die, even the tight – though a little painful – embrace had soothed his aching soul. This alone had made the trip to the 21^st worth all the pain.

Carefully, he makes his way to the edge of his bed. Sitting up slowly and taking a deep breath makes him feel a little dizzy, and the expansion of his chest pulls at his stitches and chafes at his broken ribs, but the pain is only dull. No comparison to yesterday. He notices the iv-line in his left arm, but it’s not connected to any fluids, and a nasal cannula softly blows air into his nose. He remembers Will coming into his room late in the evening after his shift, looking exhausted but still eager to see him. Jay had answered all of his brother’s questions without hesitation because he knows how much Will is worrying about him. About his physical health but also about his state of mind, about him leaving the hospital too early, about him going to the district and enduring a strenuous interrogation when he should still be in the hospital. And if Jay is able to lay a few of these worries to rest, he will do it in a heartbeat.

Will had looked worried about his persistently high blood sugar and had suggested they should start with a long-acting insulin to help keep the blood sugar level lower, let his torn pancreas work through the sugar spikes from meals first. Jay had agreed without complaint, even though he hates needles, and this will involve getting pricked every night, not counting the frequent pricks to test his blood sugar. But he trusts his brother with all things medical, and if Will thinks this is the best way to help his pancreas to recover, then he’ll do it. That doesn’t mean he’s not worried. If he already needs insulin now, he thinks it’s highly probable that this won’t go away. Still he had let Will inject him with a dose of insulin glargine, listening to Will telling him that they would have to monitor his blood sugar more closely now.

Sighing, he pulls the oxygen tubing over his head and places it on his pillow. He gets to his feet carefully, because his body tells him that he should really get to his bathroom now. Trailing his left hand along the wall for support, his muscles stiff from both the overexertion yesterday and the long disuse afterwards, he shuffles out of his room and along the corridor into his bathroom. It is more tiring than he thought it would be, and by the time he’s done, he leans against the sink, grabbing the edges with his left hand tightly to not fall over, feeling a little shaky and sweaty. A deep throbbing pain has started to radiate from his left side through his body, encircling his chest and abdomen, having sent the dull soreness from his tired muscles and the pulsating ache of his broken fingers to the backburner.

A look at his face in the mirror shows him dark circles under his eyes that are a lot less prominent than he remembers, so he must have slept for more than just a few hours, probably missed a few doses of his pain-meds along the way. The discoloration from his broken cheek bone has faded to a very light yellow, slowly merging into his pale complexion. He still looks too pale, and he thinks he might have lost a few pounds. In fairness, he hasn’t had a decent meal in almost two weeks now. Between his medical induced coma and the stress of getting out of the hospital, he didn’t have the biggest appetite. His stomach gives a loud growl, and he chuckles a little. He sure could eat now. The constantly lingering nausea he felt the last few days has finally subsided, and he’s looking forward to a nice home-cooked meal. Breakfast, lunch or dinner. Whatever the time is at the moment.

He pushes off the sink despite the pain, knowing he won’t be able to stand here for much longer, and makes his way out of his bathroom into the silence of his apartment. Noticing that he’s wearing comfortable sweat pants and a shirt, lets him realize that Mouse must’ve changed his clothes after carrying him back up here again. He knows he should be embarrassed that he was so out of it that he didn’t even notice that. And he would be if it were anyone else but Mouse. Even with Will it would feel odd. But with Mouse, they both have seen every aspect of the others life, the good and the bad, that nothing is embarrassing anymore. With Mouse, he doesn’t have to be strong.

Yesterday, he was so glad to have Mouse by his side, to fight for him when he couldn’t. He doesn’t think he could have made it through that morning without him. People don’t see it in Mouse, because he can be awkward with people, nervous and babbling, but Mouse is as much a protector as Jay is. And from Mouse he can accept to be the one being protected, if he can’t do it himself.

Slowly, he shuffles into the living room, still keeping his left hand trailing along the wall, his casted right bracing his aching chest, and breathing through the pain and effort. As soon as the couch is in sight, a big smile blooms on his face. His best friend and his brother are huddled together, both fast asleep, leaning into one another. The sight makes his heart expand.

He moves on to the kitchen and flicks the switch for the coffee maker. The clock on the oven tells him that it’s 8.30 am. Will had told him yesterday that he managed to get today and the weekend off, so they could go to Wisconsin, get everything settled there before he had to return to Chicago. They had planned to leave for Wisconsin in the morning, but looking at his two brothers, he can see they both still look tired, and there really is no need for them to start this early. They have all day to make it up to Wisconsin.

He returns his focus onto the coffee machine, unsure if the sound will wake his two exhausted brothers.

“Morning.”

Jay startles a little, but suppresses the wince as he turns back to the couch, smiling at Mouse. He should have known that the man would wake up, should be surprised that Mouse didn’t already hear him coming when he left the bathroom. Mouse has always been a light sleeper, and with their training it had intensified. It had taken Jay a long time to not wake up at every sound in the streets outside his apartment, but Mouse is back in the game and depends on being awake at the softest sounds.

“Hey. Coffee?”

Mouse carefully disentangles himself from Will and gets up from the couch, joining Jay in the kitchen. “Do you have to ask?”

Jay starts the machine, still smiling and shaking his head.

“How are you feeling today?” Jay can feel Mouse scrutinize him. “You look better than yesterday but a little pale. You hurting?”

Jay shrugs carefully. “Could use some pain meds. Feels like someone is rummaging around in my stomach with metal claws while being bear-hugged around the chest.” He takes a deep breath and winces slightly. It hurts like hell.

“Will gave you some iv-meds in the night, but I guess they already wore off.” Mouse pulls one of the bar stools of the kitchen island closer. “Sit your ass down. I’ll check his bag for meds, then I’ll make you something to eat. You haven’t had anything since before we left for the district yesterday morning.”

“Thanks.” Jay nods gratefully and lowers his body carefully onto the stool. “It’s the first time that I really feel hungry. Not sure I have much to eat in the fridge, but I sure could eat half a cow.”

“I got us some provisions, but half a cow didn’t fit into your tiny fridge. Sorry.”

Jay chuckles along with Mouse as he hears him move into the bedroom in search for Will’s bag which – if he knows his brother at all – won’t be just a small bag but the master edition with everything Will will need and a hell of a lot more that he won’t. He missed the playful banter, the friendly ribbing. He used to have that with the team, but ever since Erin’s break-up his friends have been tense with him, and every banter has felt more like cutting remarks.

A loud knock on the door interrupts his thoughts, and Jay looks over to the door in surprise. He can’t think of anyone who would come visit him. Mouse’s head appears at his bedroom door, looking as surprised as Jay feels, while Will still snores on the couch.

“You expecting someone?”

Jay shakes his head. “No. Can’t think of anyone who would just come over here, after everything that went down.”

Mouse pulls out a gun from somewhere and starts moving towards the door, but Jay stops him with a wave of his hand, carefully getting off the stool and shuffling to the door. “It’s probably just one of the neighbors. I’ll go check, you keep looking for my meds.” Mouse’s eyebrows raise in surprise, and Jay knows his friend just realized in how much pain he must be if he asks him to get him pain relief. He can see Mouse hesitate, and even though he has lowered the weapon, he still lingers at the door of the bedroom.

Moving towards his front door, Jay can feel his muscles protesting at his movements, but he pushes through, taking a deep, painful breath. He steadies himself on the wall with his left and peeks through the peep hole.

Surprised, he takes a step back when the knocking is repeated, this time a lot louder and more aggressive. Turning to Mouse, he gives him an astonished look. “It’s Erin!”

Mouse raises his gun again, and Jay just smiles and waves him off. His left hand reaches for the door and turns the knob. Pulling the door open a little, he stands face to face with Erin. His ex. His almost fiancée. The woman who got Kim almost killed. Who turned his team against him with the lies she told about him.

“Jay. Hey.” Her voice sounds as rough as ever, and she gives him the smile she always reserved just for him. A little challenging, a little taunting, a lot alluring, seemingly promising more.

“Erin.” He doesn’t step away from the door, keeping a tight hold on the handle with his left hand, while his broken right stays draped over his aching chest as if to keep himself from falling apart at Erin’s unexpected visit. His emotions run havoc in his mind, but he tries to keep his face neutral. “What are you doing here?”

She steps closer, pushing him backwards with the door to move into the apartment, making Jay flinch at the jolt of pain that it’s sending down his side. “Do I need a reason to come and check on you? We are still friends, even if we’re not together anymore, right?” She moves past him without really looking at him, and he rolls his eyes at her back. Still friends? They stopped being friends the moment she walked out on him and started treating him like a dirtbag. But that’s obviously not how Erin sees it. “You are still important to me, you know? Can you imagine how devastated I was when Hank told me that you were dead?”

“Not really.” Jay doesn’t think Erin had really been affected by the news. He just can’t imagine her grieving for him as much she did for Nadia. Not after how she behaved towards him in the last few weeks. “But hey, why don’t you come in?” Shaking his head, he lets the door fall closed and follows her slowly into his apartment.

“Thanks.” As suspected, his mumbled sarcasm is totally lost on Erin. She turns back to him, looking surprised at his disbelief. “I really was devastated. I couldn’t sleep all night. Hank and I sat in his living room, drinking to your memory, and we worked all night on your eulogy."

Jay snorts. Right. Any excuse to drink the night away. Didn’t that just show him again how stupid he had been, how naïve to believe her when she told him that she was sober now. If the news of his demise – a man that, according to her, she didn’t love anymore – let her fall off the wagon, she didn’t really hold her sobriety in high esteem. And the little that he heard of Hank’s eulogy yesterday, well, he’s just glad he didn’t die and those wouldn’t be the words he would be remembered by.

“When Hank told me that you were still alive and came by the district, I couldn’t believe it! I nearly came to the district to request the video footage to see for myself. Hank said you still looked like shit, so I thought I would check on you, see if you needed any help.” She blinks at him, giving him another of those seductive smiles.

“I don’t need help, especially not from you.” Jay steels his heart to stay strong, tries not to show her how much she had hurt him. Not only had she just left without a reason, she had ignored him for weeks, made him look like the bad guy in this, and tried to destroy his reputation at the district. As a detective with the team, but also as a person. And now she just comes over like nothing happened? Offering her help? Not going to happen.

“Oh, come on, Jay. Don’t be such a drama queen.” She keeps moving and enters the living room, coming to an abrupt halt when she sees Will sitting up sleepily on the couch and Mouse moving out of Jay’s bedroom, arms crossed, gun barely concealed. She gives them both a big smile, ignoring the less the welcoming stares. “Hey guys. Good to see you again. Didn’t know you were here. Looks like Jay doesn’t need me here to nurse him back to health after all. He’s got all the mother-hens he needs.” She laughs at her bad joke, but neither men even cracks a smile.

Jay moves past her towards his kitchen stool, needing to sit down. His muscle ache and his side throbs relentlessly. Erin follows him, seemingly unperturbed by the hostile glares she gets from Will and Mouse. He finally reaches the kitchen island, and sighs as he lowers his body onto the chair. He feels drained, shaky and sweaty again, just from walking the distance from his kitchen to the door and back, and his heart races like he’s run a marathon. “What do you want, Erin?”

She turns to Will and Mouse, who have moved closer, both prepared to help Jay if needed. “Could you two give us the room?”

Jay has to hold back his smile as both of his brothers start shaking their head vehemently and in unison, but he gives them a slight nod.

“You sure about this?” Mouse moves to the counter, stuffing the gun into his waistband. He stops to grab a glass and pours some water, setting it down in front of Jay. “You look like you’re about to keel over.” Jay can see Will moving closer, too.

“I’m good. This won’t take long.” He gives them both a reassuring smile. Will still looks doubtful, but Mouse understands immediately, moving back from the kitchen and taking Will with him towards the bedroom. Jay follows them with his eyes until they reach his bedroom door. He knows that Mouse will explain to Will why this is important for Jay, why he can hold on for a little longer to close the Erin chapter once and for all, and that they can brother-hen him to death afterwards. Sighing, he turns back to Erin, leaning against the counter, his left hand keeping a hold on it while his arm presses lightly on his aching side and his right lying relaxed on his lap. “Why are you here, Erin?”

“Can’t I just be here to check on you?”

“No. You never did before, not even after I was kidnapped and tortured. And to be honest, you lost that right to check on me when you dumped me without explanation right before an important gala dinner.”

She snorts. “Important for whom? I certainly didn’t want to go to that stupid dinner.”

“Important to Will. And therefore, important to me. But that’s not the point, Erin.” He shakes his head slowly, the hurt in his voice clearly audible. “The point is, you just left me. Without an explanation. That really hurt. Even worse was that you badmouthed me at work wherever you got the chance.”

“I didn’t badmouth you! Why would you say that?” She looks genuinely surprised.

“I don’t know what exactly you said to the team, but the way they talked to me in the last weeks, the way they looked at me and treated me, they were clearly seeing me as the bad guy in all of this. As if I was the one who ended the relationship. As if I had done something wrong. Or treated you badly. And then there are all those times you overrode my input to cases or suggestions for tactical approaches. On more than one occasion, you even ridiculed me or my ideas in front of the whole team, sometimes even in front of others. You always found a way to make me look bad.”

“Oh, come on. We were just bantering. Like always.” She gives him a pitying look. “And the team doesn’t treat you differently. You’re just being a little too sensitive about the whole break-up thing. The day after that gala thing I was at work, and the others noticed my bad mood and asked me what was wrong, so, naturally, I told them about our break-up. It’s not my fault they just assumed things. And it’s definitely not on me if they treat you differently.”

“You’re unbelievable.” Jay shakes his head, feeling a headache building. “What about what you told Voight about the warehouse? That I was the one who wanted to go in despite Voight telling us to hold? You lied, Erin. To Voight.”

“It wasn’t a lie. You did want to go in, didn’t you? That was the whole point of us being at that warehouse. Because you wanted to get that bastard who shot your CI.”

“Of course I wanted to get that bastard! But I told you to wait for backup. Like Voight ordered us to do.”

“You were my backup.” Again, she smiles at him, as if it would solve the whole problem.

“Erin.” Jay shakes his head. He’s too tired to do this now. And his left arm has started tingling, like it has fallen asleep. He tries to shake it awake, but it doesn’t work. “Can we just cut the bullshit and talk about what you really want here?”

She smirks at him, mockingly. “Enlighten me. What do I really want here?”

“It’s too late, Erin.” He can hear the tiredness in his own voice, can feel the scratch in the back of his throat. And he longs for this conversation to end. To finally get something to eat and some pain relief.

“What do you mean?” Her voice still sounds mocking, but there is a hint of uncertainty in it, too.

“Don’t play stupid.” Jay takes a deeper breath. The tingling in his arm is distracting, and he feels more tired by the minute. All he wants is to go lie down and rest, but he needs to get this sorted, so he can put it all behind and start to heal. “You are here because you’re curious about my statement to the committee. And probably to talk me into telling them that you didn’t ignore a direct order and that you just made a fatal error in judgement.”

She looks at him taxingly. “So? What if this was the case?”

“I can’t do that, Erin.” He holds eye contact with her, sounding a little hoarse but steady and unwavering.

“Why not? All you have to do is tell them we had the wrong information. Which we did. We really did think there were only a handful of people inside. And that’s what we were acting on, but it went sideways, and that was nothing I could have predicted. Maybe you can even tell them you would have acted the same way.”

“I already talked to the committee.”

“What? When?” Dropping all pretense, she points an accusing finger at him. “Hank said you promised to think on the deal. That you would give him your answer this weekend.”

“I had already talked to the committee before I even talked to Voight. I was sure he knew that. And I don’t know what he expects me to do. Go back and revise my statement?”

“What did you tell them?” Her voice now really sounds a little panicked, higher somehow but still a little hoarse.

“The truth, Erin. What really happened at that warehouse.” Jay can feel a slight numbness settling over him, and he shakes his head to chase it away. “I told them how we made entrance, how you were shot, and how I had to shoot Walker to stop him from killing you. And how one of the thugs threw a grenade at Kim’s position.”

She scoffs at him. “Oh please! I’m sure you didn’t keep it that vague.” Pointing an accusing finger at him, she steps a little closer. “You threw me under the bus!”

“You know I wouldn’t do that, even though you are the one responsible for all that happened there. But they had seen the footage from the warehouse, Erin. They already knew what went down. And they wanted more details.” He grabs for his glass on the counter to take a thirsty sip, but as soon as his tingling left hand touches the glass, a jolt of electricity runs through his arm and down his left side, making the pain intensify, radiating through his whole body. He pulls back his hand and groans, pressing his elbow to his chest and covering his arm with his right hand, leaning forward.

Erin doesn’t even notice that something is wrong with him. “Do you realize what you’ve done? Because of what you said to them I won’t be able to get that FBI job! And I can’t keep an eye on my mom. And she’ll get herself in more trouble or killed! Only because of what you said to them!”

Jay blinks to get rid of his slightly blurred vision of the two Erins standing before him, face contorted in rage, and he breathes through the pain, managing to stay calm. Looking her in the eye he shakes his head slowly, his voice quieter and a little strained. “No, Erin, because of what you did. Not what I said, what you did!”

She looks at him furiously and continues her rant, but he can’t keep his focus on her anymore. Something is seriously wrong with him. His whole body feels strange, tingly, despite the pain in his side and his chest. He rubs his head with his left hand, trying hard to get his blurred vision to focus, but no matter how often he blinks, the double vision stays.

“JAY!” Erin steps even closer, slapping his tingling left arm to get his attention, making him look up at her, and her words make it through the fog that has started in his head. “If you let your statement stand like this, I will be suspended! I might even have to go to jail! Do you hear me? JAIL!”

Jay’s lips feel numb, but he tries to open them anyway to answer her. “I’m sorry, Erin.” His tongue feels heavy, and his words sound a little slurred. “I won’t lie to cover your fuck-up!”

“My fuck up?” Her voice gets deep and menacing, while she steps even closer, shoving him into the counter. He makes an uncoordinated grab for the counter to keep his balance on the chair, and luckily his almost-completely numb hand can hold on. “I just wanted to get that bastard. Just like you! So what if I moved earlier than Voight wanted us to? We got him! Isn’t that what counts in the end?”

Jay shakes his head, blinking furiously to clear his vision. “You nearly got Kim killed. And yourself.” His voice is hoarse and rough, nearly too quiet to be heard. “Got me shot twice.”

Erin moves away from him abruptly, waving him off, and he pulls himself up a little straighter. “Your vest caught both bullets, so it doesn’t really count as getting shot. And Kim will be fine. She’s a tough girl. And I only had a scratch, nothing to whine about.” She turns back to him, her eyes blazing with fury. “But what about the rest of me, Jay? Did you think of me when you talked to the committee? Did you think what consequences your testimony will have for me?”

“This is not on me, Erin. This…”

“Of course it is! If you…”

He can’t hear her arguments anymore. There is a ringing in his ear that has intensified in the last minutes. He can still feel his heart beat a mile a minute, and his hands are sweaty and have started to shake. He needs help. And Erin doesn’t even notice. “Will?” His voice is no more than a whisper, and he knows Will won’t hear him over Erin’s rant. “Mouse?”

He scoots forward and glides off the chair, nearly collapsing to the floor, but his hand finds the counter to keep himself upright. Erin still rants at him, her voice rising from the deep menacing tone to a louder higher pitched yell, still oblivious to Jay’s deteriorating health. Jay knows if she keeps going like that he doesn’t even need to reach his bedroom, because his brothers will come flying out to support him. But he doesn’t know if he has the time to wait for them.

Erin’s voice is muted, every sound seems to come from far away through the ringing in his head. His legs still feel tingly right down to his little toes, and he doesn’t really know how they are still carrying him. He only makes it to the edge of the counter until his knees give out and he crashes down to the floor, first to his knees and then onto his left side, his arms too weak to break the fall.

The pain alone nearly sends him over the edge, but he tries to cling to consciousness, even though consciousness is like wading through a dense fog. From where he lies, he can only see legs and feet. Erin’s boots are nice brown leather, but they are quickly joined by two pair of socked feet. Will and Mouse. Both of them standing firmly between him and Erin.

“Will.” His lips barely move, and even though his tongue has started to tingle, too, he can still taste a coppery liquid that slowly drips out of his mouth. He tries again to call for his brother without a better result. He can still hear Erin’s voice far away that has turned slightly shriller, but it’s overridden by another, darker one. One that sounds angry. Through the fog in his brain, he can’t make out any words, but he knows one of his brothers is there to defend him.

A light touch to his right arm makes him flinch and cry out in pain, but he tries to focus on where the touch came from, and he can see the blurry outline of his older brother crouching at his side. Through the humming in his ears, he registers Will calling out for him, but he doesn’t have any strength left to answer. Or to move in any way. His thoughts feel sluggish, and he doesn’t know why. The tingling in his left arm has moved over to his right arm, and he can’t feel his left arm anymore. What he can feel is the tiny prick on his index finger that feels like someone just smashed it with Thor’s hammer. He would pull it away, but his muscles don’t follow his brain’s orders anymore.

His eyelids get heavy, slowly falling shut on their own volition, only to snap back open when there is a sharp tap on his cheek. He can feel Will work on his left arm, and then there’s something cold and burning running up inside of it. But as soon as the burning reaches his shoulder, the grey haze starts to retreat slowly, and sound comes back, too.

“Jay? Can you hear me?” Will sounds a little stressed. “Jay? Can you look at me?”

Jay tries to focus on his older brother. The blurry vision is gone completely, and he only sees Will once. “Hey, Will.” His voice sounds normal too, just tired, but not slurred anymore.

Will lets out a relieved sigh and a hysterical little laugh. “Thank god, you’re back.”

Jay takes a deep breath that surprisingly doesn’t hurt as much as feared and rolls to his back. Will helps him by guiding him carefully into a more comfortable position. “What happened?”

“Erin came here to guilt-trip you into changing your statement.”

Jay grins despite the situation. “I remember that. Why am I lying on the floor feeling like shit?”

“Your blood sugar dropped dangerously low. It was only at 25 just now and I had to inject you with some glucose.”

“Why?”

“You haven’t eaten anything yet, and the stress of this situation and the effort of you walking through the apartment burnt through your blood sugar. And because we started with the insulin last night, you didn’t have much reserves left.”

Jay tries to process these information, but just feels too tired. “Where’s Erin?”

He sees Will look away, over to where his door is, and now he notices the muffled raised voices from beyond his door. “Mouse took her outside. She didn’t go easily. He stays with her outside until Voight is here to pick her up.”

Why would Voight pick Erin up? Did he send her to talk to him? Apparently, his confusion is written on his face because Will starts to explain. “I called Voight to come pick her up. When he refused I told him I would call 911 and get her arrested. He should be here any minute now. And don’t worry. Mouse won’t let them back into the apartment.”

Jay closes his eyes. He wasn’t worried. If Mouse was keeping watch, no one would get into this apartment. Now that his blood sugar seems to have leveled out a little, he still feels tired, but the numbness and tingling sensation is gone. He opens his eyes again and looks at his brother. “Help me get up.”

Will shakes his head. “Stay down. Ambulance is on the way.”

“No.” Jay shakes his head. “I don’t need an ambulance. You said it was just low blood sugar.”

Will shakes his head exasperated. “You just fell on your injured side. You coughed up blood. And you were one small step away from a hypoglycemic seizure. You are definitely going to the hospital.”

Jay nods, groaning slightly. “I know that. But I don’t need an ambulance. You can drive me. We had already planned to stop at Med before we leave for Wisconsin. Don’t need an ambulance for that.”

“Jay.” Will looks doubtful. ”You look like shit. The ambulance will be safer than Mouse’s truck. And we still need to pack everything. It’ll take too long. You could be bleeding internally. Or have a collapsed lung.”

“I don’t think anything is more broken than before the fall. If you give me some pain meds, I can wait for half an hour until we’re packed. I could even eat something, help my blood sugar to stay up. Trust me, Will.” When Will still looks unsure, Jay smiles at him. “I promise it’s not like the time when we were kids and I got impaled by Dad’s dancing trophy.”

“Ah, shit. That was bad.” Will groans but can’t help the snickering. “Alright. As soon as Mouse is back, we’ll move you to the couch until we’re ready to go.”

Jay closes his eyes and lets out a content sigh. “Thank you.” He takes inventory of his aches and pains. He didn’t lie to Will. His side and chest still throb, and so does his broken fingers. But the headache is gone as well as the tingling and numbness. The blood in his mouth seems to come from a bite on his tongue when he impacted on the ground, and it has already stopped bleeding. Jay can see Will move away from him into the bedroom, returning moments later with a ginormous bag. Jay can’t hold back a little laugh. He was right. The largest med bag possible, including a huge pile of things that Will won’t need.

He watches his brother bustle around him, starting some fluids and injecting some more pain killers, and he still listens for the voices in the hall. Erin’s voice is still a lot louder than Mouse, and she doesn’t seem to be able to calm down. Suddenly there is a third voice, and even through the closed door Jay can hear the roughness. It only takes a few minutes until the door opens, and he can hear footsteps coming closer.

“Hey, brother, how are you feeling?” Mouse kneels down at his side, looking a little concerned.

Jay smiles up at him. “Better. Help me up onto the couch, please.” He can see Mouse share a look with Will, but when Will just nods, Mouse gets to work and together they move him onto his couch. With the medication on board, the pain has toned down, and Jay can feel the exhaustion pulling at him, even though he just woke up from a long sleep. A plate of food appears in front of him, and he works his way through the toasted bread and vegetables. His body seems to need more rest, and as soon as he’s done eating, he closes his eyes and drifts off, while Will and Mouse get to work on getting everything ready for their departure.

It doesn’t take them long, and sooner than he expects, Jay finds himself on a gurney at Med. Will has pulled some strings so they don’t have to wait for long, and Jay resigns himself to be prodded and poked. It’s not as bad as he thought, though. His lungs are as good as they can be after their collapse two weeks ago. The blood in his mouth was, as expected, from the cut on his tongue. The wound on his stomach is fine, no ripped stitches or additional damage. They leave the stitches in for a few extra days, just to make sure.

Mouse looks satisfied, but Will is still a little on edge.

“What are you worrying about, Will?” Jay gives his brother a tired smile. “As I understand, it all looks fine.” A thought hits him unexpectedly, a thought that would explain Will’s persistent worry-line over his brows. “Or did you receive bad news on the blood work?”

“Not yet.” Will shakes his head but still looks concerned. “And even if the results wouldn’t look good, it’s still too early to make any prognosis.”

“Then what are you worrying about?”

“You.” Will shrugs. “Have you thought about what you’re going to do?”

“Yeah.” Jay lowers his head, playing with the edges of his cast. He knows exactly what Will is asking. “What happened this morning, with Erin… Voight is right. I still care for her, probably always will in some way. But I won’t protect her from this. I can’t. She… she nearly got herself and Kim killed, just because she wanted to make me look bad.”

“Not to mention getting you shot. Twice. No matter what she said, even if the vest caught the bullets, it still counts as getting shot.” Will points a finger at the light discolorations on Jay’s side and back that have nearly faded completely, and Mouse agrees with him.

Jay smiles at them. “I know. What I was trying to say is, that I don’t want her to get out of this without any consequences. Or even get rewarded with a shiny new job as a federal agent.”

Both Will and Mouse nod at that, and Jay can see what they would rather do to Erin. Before they can start plotting Erin’s disappearance, Jay continues. “As for the future? I just don’t know. If I make a full recovery, I don’t think I’ll ever go back to Intelligence. Even if Hank would let me. The team… they… they broke my trust. And that’s not easily repaired.” He shakes his head. “With every new case, I would wonder if I can trust them. With every breach, I would wonder if they have my back. And I can’t work like that. I do understand where they came from, how much Erin has tainted their view on me, but it still hurts so much that they didn’t even give me the benefit of the doubt.”

“And Voight?” Mouse prompts, genuinely curious.

“Hank?” Jay snorts. ”A sergeant should keep his team together, back them up. And Hank always told us to be honest with him, so he can lie for us. Expects us to trust him, let him handle things, to even cover for him, but this was the second time he just threw me under the bus without backup. Maybe he does all that for Erin or Al. But not for me. So, I don’t think I will ever be able to work for or with him.” He grins at the two man tiredly. “Maybe I’ll take Detective Gall up on her offer and transfer to Homicide. That would really piss Voight off.”

“Or you could join SWAT,” Mouse chimes in. “I know you received a few offers while I was working at the 21^st.”

“Yeah.” Jay’s smile falters, and he looks down again to his casted hand, sighing deeply. “Maybe it won’t matter either way.”

Will frowns at him, looking confused from Mouse to Jay. “Why not?”

Ah, shit. He never wanted to burden Will with that information as long as nothing was written in stone. Jay clears his throat, not sure how to tell his brother, but apparently, he doesn’t have to.

“If his pancreas doesn’t recover enough for him not to need insulin regularly, he won’t be able to get back to his job, Will.” At Will’s still confused frown, Mouse continues. “He wouldn’t be able to work UCs, or strenuous jobs like SWAT or Homicide. They would probably retire him medically.”

“What?” Will looks from Jay to Mouse and back. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Jay just shrugs. “You said yourself that it’s too early to know if that will even happen.” He can see Will starting to freak out. “Calm down, Will. There is nothing we can do at the moment. I need to rest and recover. And we’ll see what happens then.”

Mouse pats Will on the arm. “Jay’s right. We’ll figure it out.”

A nurse enters their treatment room, telling them that the lab work looks as good as it can, handing Will a printout, and that Jay can go home. Will uses the distraction to study all the results, frowning over some of them, and Mouse helps Jay up into a sitting position and into his shirt. They get him into a wheelchair, out of the hospital and into Mouse’s truck quickly.

As he feels the thrumming of the motor beneath him, Jay slumps deeper into his seat, exhaustion washing over him. All he wants now is to just drive to their cabin, sit on the porch in the fresh air and enjoy the cool breeze on his face. He can see himself with Will and Mouse going over every detail of the past few days, and he knows it will be painful and exhausting for him, but it will help him work through all of it, let him start to heal for real.

And they will talk about the future. About what it may hold for him. And if he can’t return to work, there will be other options. He could talk to a friend of his from his military time, an ex-Navy-SEAL who had also been medically retired a few years ago and who had built something for himself in Africa. But all this is in the future.

For now, Jay is content in this moment, driving out of Chicago towards a place where he can start to heal, with the two people he trusts the most.

Knowing that Will and Mouse will keep him safe, he closes his eyes and drifts off into the first peaceful sleep in a long time.