Chapter Text
Chapter One
First Days
Jay Halstead had been shot at before.
He’d been punched, stabbed, threatened, followed, and once, memorably, had a suspect try to drive a car through him.
None of that had ever made him as nervous as standing in his kitchen at six forty-three on a Monday morning, trying to convince his thirteen-year-old daughter to eat breakfast.
“Charli.”
Nothing.
Jay glanced over his shoulder.
Charlotte was curled sideways in one of the kitchen chairs, one leg tucked underneath her, a book propped against the sugar bowl. Her toast sat untouched on the plate in front of her.
“Charlotte.”
A page turned.
Jay sighed.
“Baby girl.”
That got her attention.
She slowly lowered the book.
“What?”
“Eat.”
“I’m eating.”
He looked at the toast.
“You’re reading.”
“I’m multitasking.”
“You’ve taken one bite.”
“Two.”
“One.”
She considered that.
“Two if you count the bite I took before you came downstairs.”
Jay shook his head, fighting a smile.
“Book down.”
“But—”
“Down.”
Charli sighed dramatically and closed the book, keeping one finger between the pages.
Jay pointed at it.
“Book.”
“I’ll lose my page.”
“You have a bookmark.”
“It’s not the same.”
“Charlotte.”
She reluctantly removed her finger and put the book beside her.
Jay turned back toward the stove.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
He plated the scrambled eggs and slid them onto the table.
Charli looked at them.
Then at her toast.
Then at her dad.
“Can I just have cereal?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because you have dance tonight.”
“So?”
“So you need to eat.”
“I eat.”
“You eat approximately four foods.”
“Five.”
“Name them.”
She counted on her fingers.
“Cereal. Pasta. Chicken nuggets. Toast. Chocolate.”
“Chocolate isn’t a food group.”
“It should be.”
Jay laughed under his breath.
He’d been doing this for thirteen years.
Thirteen years of breakfasts.
Thirteen years of packed lunches.
Thirteen years of school runs, fevers, lost teeth, parent-teacher meetings, Christmas concerts, birthday parties, homework battles and frantic searches for missing dance shoes.
Thirteen years of figuring it out as he went.
And somehow, every morning still felt like this.
A little chaotic.
A little exhausting.
And completely theirs.
He grabbed his coffee and sat opposite her.
“So.”
Charli looked suspicious.
“So?”
“Today.”
She smiled.
“Oh.”
“First day.”
Jay nodded.
“First day.”
She studied him for a second.
“Nervous?”
“No.”
“Liar.”
“I’m not nervous.”
“Dad.”
“I’m not.”
“You reorganised your gun belt three times last night.”
Jay paused.
“That was preparation.”
“You also ironed your shirt twice.”
“Once.”
“Twice.”
“Once and a touch-up.”
She grinned.
“You’re nervous.”
Jay pointed at her with his coffee mug.
“You’ve got a lot of attitude for someone who hasn’t touched her eggs.”
She picked up her fork.
“See? Eating.”
“Good.”
He leaned back.
“Okay. Schedule.”
Charli groaned.
“Do we have to?”
“Yes.”
“You made a schedule.”
“I always make a schedule.”
“You’ve made a schedule for my schedule.”
“Because your schedule is insane.”
“It’s not insane.”
“You have school until three-fifteen, dance at five, ballet at six-thirty, and rehearsal from eight to nine.”
“Exactly. Completely normal.”
Jay stared at her.
“Normal.”
“Yep.”
“Okay.”
He reached for the notepad sitting beside his coffee.
“School. You get out at three-fifteen.”
“Three-ten.”
“Three-fifteen.”
“Three-ten if Ms. Patterson lets us out early.”
“Three-fifteen.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Fine.”
“I’ll pick you up.”
“You have your first day.”
“I know.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I’m picking you up.”
“Dad—”
“Charli.”
She stopped.
Jay’s voice softened.
“I’ll make it work.”
She looked down at her plate.
“I know.”
He tapped the notepad.
“After school, you come straight home. Snack. Homework.”
“Can I read first?”
“No.”
“Ten minutes?”
“No.”
“Five?”
“Homework.”
She sighed.
“You are so strict.”
“Correct.”
“You’re only saying that because you’re a cop.”
“I was strict before I was a cop.”
“You were sixteen.”
Jay smiled.
“Exactly.”
Charli laughed.
He watched her for a moment.
There were times when he still couldn’t quite believe it.
His little girl wasn’t little anymore.
Thirteen.
Thirteen years old.
She had grown from a tiny baby who used to sleep against his chest into a girl who could argue with him like a lawyer and disappear into a book for six hours.
Jay sometimes wondered where the time had gone.
“Hey.”
Charli’s voice pulled him back.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.”
He smiled.
“Just thinking.”
“About what?”
“You.”
She gave him a suspicious look.
“Why?”
“Because you’re getting old.”
Her mouth dropped open.
“Dad!”
He laughed.
“I’m kidding.”
“I’m thirteen!”
“Exactly.”
“I’m not old.”
“To me you are.”
“I’m literally younger than you.”
“That’s not difficult.”
She threw a napkin at him.
Jay caught it.
“Eat your breakfast, princess.”
She smiled.
“Okay.”
⸻
By seven thirty, the kitchen looked like a small explosion had gone off.
Charli’s dance bag was by the door.
Her schoolbag was beside it.
Her coat was half on.
Her hair was tied back, though Jay had a feeling she’d redo it before school.
Jay checked his watch.
“Phone?”
“In my bag.”
“Charger?”
“Bag.”
“Homework?”
“Done.”
He gave her a look.
She sighed.
“Mostly.”
“Charli.”
“I’ll do it after school.”
“Before you read.”
“I know.”
“And no forgetting your dance shoes.”
“They’re in my dance bag.”
“Water bottle?”
“Yes.”
“Snack?”
“Yes.”
“Spare tights?”
“Yes.”
“Hair ties?”
“Yes.”
She crossed her arms.
“Anything else, Detective?”
Jay smiled.
“Attitude.”
“That wasn’t on the list.”
“It should be.”
She grabbed her bag.
“Come on.”
Jay opened the front door.
Charli stepped outside, then stopped.
“Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“Good luck today.”
He looked at her.
Something warm settled in his chest.
“Thanks, baby girl.”
She leaned up and kissed his cheek.
Then she disappeared down the steps.
Jay watched her for a second before following.
First day.
New job.
New unit.
New everything.
But the one thing that hadn’t changed was that every morning started with Charlotte.
And every night, no matter what happened in between, he had to get home to her.
⸻
The 21st District was already alive when Jay walked through the doors.
Phones ringing.
Officers moving between desks.
People shouting across the room.
The familiar smell of bad coffee.
Jay adjusted his jacket and walked toward the desk he’d been directed to.
He’d worked Chicago PD long enough to know that being the new guy meant one of two things.
People would either ignore you.
Or test you.
He had a feeling Intelligence would be the latter.
“Halstead?”
Jay turned.
A man approached him.
“Sergeant Hank Voight.”
Jay nodded.
“Detective Jay Halstead.”
Voight looked him over.
“Intelligence.”
“That’s what I’m told.”
Voight almost smiled.
“Come on.”
Jay followed him through the bullpen.
As they walked, Jay kept his expression neutral.
He’d been waiting for this.
The opportunity.
The unit.
He wasn’t about to screw it up on his first morning.
Voight introduced him to the others.
Erin Lindsay.
Jay shook her hand.
Adam Ruzek.
Another handshake.
Antonio Dawson.
Kevin Atwater.
Alvin Olinsky.
Jay took them all in.
He’d heard of most of them.
They’d heard of him.
Probably.
“Halstead’s joining us,” Voight said.
Ruzek looked him up and down.
“How old are you?”
Jay raised an eyebrow.
“Twenty-nine.”
“You’re twenty-nine?”
“Last time I checked.”
Ruzek grinned.
“Thought you were younger.”
Jay shrugged.
“Good genes.”
Atwater laughed.
Lindsay shook her head.
Voight ignored them.
“Desk is yours. We’ll see what you’ve got.”
Jay nodded.
“Understood.”
He put his bag down.
His phone buzzed.
Once.
He glanced at the screen.
CHARLI:
Made it to school. Love you ❤️
Jay’s expression softened.
He typed quickly.
JAY:
Love you too. Have a good day, princess. Homework when you get home.
Three dots appeared.
CHARLI:
I know 🙄
Jay smiled.
Then locked his phone and slipped it back into his pocket.
Nobody had noticed.
Or at least, nobody said anything.
Good.
He wasn’t going to walk into a room full of strangers and announce his entire personal life.
They didn’t need to know.
Not yet.
His phone buzzed again.
This time it was his calendar.
5:00 PM — CHARLI DANCE
Jay stared at it for half a second.
Then looked toward Voight.
“Sergeant?”
Voight looked up.
“Yeah?”
“Just confirming — what time do we usually finish?”
Voight’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“Depends on the case.”
Jay nodded.
“Okay.”
“You got somewhere to be?”
Jay paused.
There it was.
The first question.
He could have said anything.
Dinner.
An appointment.
A commitment.
Instead, he simply said:
“Yeah.”
Voight watched him.
“Everything handled?”
“Yeah.”
“Good.”
Jay nodded and turned back to his desk.
He didn’t mention Charli.
Didn’t mention school.
Didn’t mention dance.
Didn’t mention that there was a thirteen-year-old girl waiting for him at home.
Because that wasn’t relevant.
Not yet.
Right now, he was Detective Halstead.
And it was his first day in Intelligence.
He intended to prove exactly why he belonged there.
But at five o’clock, no matter what happened in that room—
He was going to be Dad.