#(will halstead)

The first time it happened, it was a grip on her wrist that was a little too hard. He said he didn't mean it, he was sorry.

"I love you so much, I just get a little upset"

Brandon knew how to sweet talk her.

Y/n and Brandon met when he had just started the academy and Y/n was starting school to be a radiologist. It was love at first sight. They were meant to be. Everyone that knew them said that.

They were the perfect couple and everyone loved them together.

The second time was a hard shove that sent Y/n falling into the coffee table.

The bruises and sore muscles the next day from the fall were hard to ignore but Brandon knew how to make her forget.

Flowers, cards, a romantic dinner. Multiple apologies.

The third time was Brandon screaming in her face, making her scared enough to fall down and then the kicking started.

The pain Y/n felt the next morning as she walked into work was enough to detour her day.

She looked around the ED, she knew she could go to Will. Her closest friend. But he would see right through her so she went for the next best option.

"Hey Hannah, got a sec?" Y/n asked, approaching the blonde doctor.

Y/N and Hannah were friendly, they had drinks at Molly's together--back when Y/n would show up. They aren't too close for Hannah to ask questions.

Hannah smiles, leaning against the nurses station "Yeah what's up? Everything okay?" she asks curiously.

Y/n shrugs, adjusting the tote bag on her shoulder "I was kinda clumsy and drunk last night, took a tumble I might have a cracked rib or two" She says it lightheartedly to make it more believable.

The blonde chuckles, nodding "Come on, let's take a look"

--

Will Halstead was observant. Y/n had stopped coming out to Molly's about 6 months ago. Always said she was too tired.

Then Y/n started slowly not answering his texts. Only talking to him at work.

He wasn't sure what he did to cause the distance.

The two had been inseparable since Y/n started. Will always saw her as a little sister and cared for her like one. Always checking in on her, making sure she was eating and drinking properly and Y/n did the same for him especially on those long shifts.

Y/n was the one (outside of Jay) that Will went to about everything s and when he needed to rant and usually it was always vice versa.

Until lately.

Will watched Y/n walk over to the nurses station, handing over a report to another doctor.

That's when he noticed her face, the slight bruising and cuts on her cheek raising red flags.

"Hey, what the hell happened to your face?" The red head questions, the concern written all over his face.

"Gee, Will, way to make a girl feel good about herself" Y/n says sarcastically.

Will shakes his head, looking at her in disbelief "Y/n. Seriously, what happened?"

Y/n rolls her eyes at him "I took a little tumble. Will, seriously, I'm fine" She says, a little laugh coming out.

"Dr. Halstead! Incoming!" Maggie calls from the entrance of the ED.

Will groans pointing at Y/n "This isn't over" He says seriously before grabbing gloves and running off.

Y/n lets out a sigh of relief. Thank you Maggie!

---

Relief. Joy. Warmth.

Those three words used to describe how Y/n felt when she walked into the apartment shared with her boyfriend of 6 years.

Dread. Sadness. Guilt.

Those three describe the feeling she got when she entered the apartment now.

She can feel the hostility as she hears him stomping around.

Brandon emerged from the bedroom, duffel bag in hand. Badge and gun on his hip.

"Finally home huh? What took you so long? Hanging out with your work boyfriend?" Brandon questions, his tone is hard to place but the feeling in her gut makes Y/n feel uneasy.

"I told you he's just a frie-"

Brandon cuts her off, his hand around her throat, slamming the girl back into the wall.

"He's just a friend my ass. Think you can step out on me? Do you forget who I am?" His other hand is on his gun as he stares at her with rage.

"I think you know better than to lie to me" The dark chuckle is followed by a hard punch, right to her left cheek.

Brandon lets her go, stepping back and walking to the front door, picking up his duffel bag and his keys.

"I'll be undercover for a few days--You better have this place spotless when I get back."

--

It took three hours for Y/n to gather her strength, to move from her spot on the floor where Brandon had left her.

She was cried out, her throat was sore, her eye was already swelling up and she could feel blood running down her cheek.

As if she snapped out of her dazed state, Y/n stood up, still shaky. Going to the bedroom she shared with him.

Quickly grabbing the duffel bag out from under the bed she hastily starts throwing clothes into the bag.

Not all of them, just enough to not have to come back for a few days.

She knew she should probably call before just showing up but there was no way she was up for explaining things over the phone.

Glancing back at the apartment one last time she shut the door behind her, making her way downstairs.

---

Y/n stood outside of the familiar apartment. Hesitating.

She could just walk away. She could not tell anyone. That seems easier.

But the feeling in her gut. Her mind flashing back to Brandon's hand on his gun while he choked her.

She couldn't go back.

Hesitantly, she brings up a shaky hand, making a loose fist and knocking on the door.

It takes a second before she hears shuffling. Then the lock unlocking.

The pit in her stomach grows.

"Hey! What are you doing he--Holy shit" Will is stopped dead in his tracks when he sees the swollen eye, the blood on her cheek and the bruises on her neck in the shape of fingers.

"C-can I stay here--just for the night" Y/n stutters out lowly.

"Are you kidding me? You don't even have to ask" Will is quick to take her bag from her, ushering her inside the apartment.

"What happened? Who did this to you? Was it Brandon?" Will questions as he rushes to the kitchen for an ice pack.

"Yeah" It's more of a whisper as Y/n looks down at her shoes.

"Let's get some ice on your eye--Here, sit, sit" Will guides her to the couch, sitting next to her and handing her the ice pack.

"Have you talked to anyone? Did you call the police or-"

"I can't, I can't call the police, Will, he's a detective. I can't..." Y/n trails off, her words are panicked.

Will shakes his head leaning forward "Listen to me. You have to report this--h-how long has this been going on?" he asks frantically.

Y/n hesitates, glancing at Will with her uncovered eye. Debating if she should tell him the truth.

"Six months" Y/n says softly, avoiding eye contact.

Will is speechless for a moment. His brain racking through everything he's seen the past six months. How withdrawn she's been, the small winces when he startled her. Why didn't he question it?

"Listen, my brother, he's a detective with Intelligence. You can trust Jay, his whole unit. I promise. Please let me call him, just him" Will tries to convince her.

Y/n sighs, nodding slowly "Only him. I'll talk to your brother"

--

It was nearing 10 pm when a knock at the door makes Y/n Jump.

Will squeezes her shoulder, giving her sad smile "It's just Jay, I'm going to let him in okay?"

It might seem silly to ask if it's okay to let someone into your own home.

But Will was going to make sure she was comfortable with it first. He could see the fear in her eyes and her hands still had a slight tremble to them.

Y/n gives a slight nod, she feels like a bundle of nerves as Will stands up and approaches the door.

What if Jay knew Brandon? What if they were friends and he told Brandon?

It's Will's brother. You can trust him. She had to tell herself that as she heard footsteps coming to the living room.

"Y/n, this is Jay" Will says softly, entering the living room with a brunette man who Y/n would definitely say is attractive under any other circumstance.

"Hi" Jay says softly "I'm sorry we're meeting under these circumstances, I've heard a lot about you"

Y/n glances at him and then back to Will, feeling uneasy.

"From me" Will reassures her, he can sense that question rolling around in her head.

Y/n nods.

Jay's a little confused why he would hear about her from anyone else but he left it.

Jay pulls a chair from the dining table, setting it across from Y/n and sitting down while Will takes a seat next to her again.

"So Will didn't say much on the phone. Your boyfriend did this?" Jay asks, his voice soft, taking out his notepad and pen.

Y/n lets out a puff of air "Yeah-yes-um he did"

Jay nods "What is his name?" he asks, writing something down in his notepad.

"Brandon Wiley, he's a detective in narcotics in the 23rd district" Y/n glances at Jay nervously, noticing how he stops writing for a second and then continues.

"Can you walk me through what happened tonight?" Jay's stomach is turning, the thought of a cop doing this to an innocent woman.

It's definitely hitting hard for him.

"I-i came home from work around 6, he was in our bedroom packing a bag to go undercover. I didn't even set my things down, He started asking why I was home late, accusing me of being with my work boyfriend--It's what he calls Will"

Y/n pasues, rubbing her hands together nervously, reaching up to run her fingers over the brusies on her neck lightly.

It feels like she has a thousand eyes on her, like the two men are judging her but she knows Will would never. and Will wouldn't call Jay if he didn't trust him.

"He wrapped a hand around my throat, slammed me into the wall. He was screaming in my face saying not to cheat on him and to remember who he was a-and his hand was on his gun...and then he gave me this" Y/n gestures to her face, glancing between the Halstead brothers.

Will places a comforting hand on her knee. It's not romantic, just a friend comforting a friend. To let her know he's there.

Jay writes in his notepad, he can feel the weight of situation on his shoulders.

Something like this never sat right with him. A police officer who swore an oath to protect but instead he's inflicting the pain on someone innocent.

"Did he leave after that?" Jay asks, his voice is softer than normal, sensing how nervous the young woman is.

Y/n nods, "Yeah, it took me a while to get myself together after that I just kind of sat on the floor in shock. Once I snapped out of it I packed some of my things and came here" she sends a weary smile to Will.

Jay leans forward, closing his notepad and cautiously reaches out a hand, placing it on top of Y/n's shaky one that sits on her knee, catching her attention.

"I'm not sure what Will has told you but I work with intelligence. Just because this guy is a cop does not give him the right to hurt you and it certainly does not mean he will get away with this."

There's sincerity in Jay's voice, something in his eyes and his certainty that puts Y/n more at ease.

"Thank you" Y/n says softly--there's more to it, thank you for believing me. For listening.

She was terrified to go to any law enforcement about the abuse from a decorated detective but Jay made her feel silly for feeling that way. Not in a bad way but in a way that maybe if she had just talked to Will sooner, she could have gotten help sooner.

Jay gives her a sad smile, squeezing her hand.

"If it's okay with you, I need to take some pictures of your injuries and then the next step would be to come in to the district tomorrow morning so you can at least talk to my boss" Jay explains, taking his phone out.

Y/n looks at Will nervously and then back to Jay.

"You'll be there right?" She asks, feeling stupid and like a little kid. She knows Will can't come, he's working early in the morning.

Jay nods, a small smile on his face "I'll be with you the whole time".

--

The next morning Y/n woke up a little disoriented, her face and neck sore. The memories from the night before a blur.

She checked her phone, a few texts from some of her coworkers asking if she was okay after they heard she's taking a few days off.

Glancing at the bedside table, she noticed a bottle of Tylenol, a glass of water and a note.

"Take some Tylenol and drink water! Call me if you need anything, Jay should be picking you up around 9. - Will"

Y/n rolled her eyes at Will's overbearing nature but also smiled to herself. She was happy, not waking up wondering if he would be there.

She notices the time reads 8:45am.

"Shit" she mumbles, quickly getting out of the bed and making her way to the bathroom to get ready.

The first glance in the mirror was a shock, seeing her injuries for the first time since it happened. Her cheek and eye were a dark purple and blue. The fingerprints on her neck matching.

There was no way she could go to work like this. And mentally she thanked Will for calling her boss and letting them know she wouldn't be in the next few days due to a personal emergency.

She quickly and carefully washed her face, brushed her teeth and completed her morning routine-as best as she could-before getting dressed in whatever clothes she had grabbed from the apartment.

Thankfully she had grabbed an oversized hoodie that would cover her neck slightly in the way it sat on her frame. Slipping into a pair of jeans and a random pair of socks she felt a little more normal. The injuries forgotten for the moment.

A knock at the front door startled her for a second before she relaxed, realizing it must be Jay.

She quickly made her way to the front door, peaking through the peephole and then unlocking the door.

"HI, I'm ready I just need to get my phone and keys" Y/n said it quickly, a little too quickly, stepping to the side to let Jay in.

She was used to being rushed and then being screamed at when she wasn't quick enough.

Almost as quick as she said it she ran back to the guest room.

Jay frowned, watching her retreat quickly to grab the last of her things.

This guy really did a number on her.

That thought made his blood boil. From everything Will had told him about Y/n over the years, she was probably the sweetest and kindest person Will had ever met.

You have to be really messed up to hurt someone like that.

"Sorry that took so long" Y/n says as soon as she's back at the entryway, as if practiced.

"Hey" Jay says it softly, ducking down slightly to meet her eyes "You don't have to rush, you don't have to apologize. You're safe and he can't hurt you. Not with me around"

It took her a second to respond, not used to being talked to in such a kind way. But then something clicked in her brain. This is Jay. Will's brother. He's safe.

"I know, i'm sorry--shit--sorry it's out of habit" She finally meets his eyes, feeling secure.

Jay chuckles, shaking his head "Come on, you eat yet?" He asks, guiding her out of the apartment and locking the door behind him with the spare key Will gave him.

"Not yet"

"Breakfast first then, there's a diner down the street that has good food and decent coffee"

--

Y/n had been nervous when Jay suggested the diner, for one she looked horrible. and two, what if one of Brandon's cop buddies saw therm?

But then she realized she was with Jay and he wouldn't let anything happen to her.

So she let herself enjoy it and their time at the diner was full of Jay telling embarrassing stories about Will and laughter.

The ride to the district was easy, light, getting to know each other a little.

As Jay pulled his truck into the parking lot at the district he sensed her nerves.

He noticed her fidgeting with the seam on her hoodie, the way her leg bounced.

"Relax, breathe, you are safe. We're going through the back entrance, no one will see you but my unit. I'll be with you the whole time" Jay reassures her, flashing a smile at her.

Y/n nods, returning the smile, hers smaller but sincere. Her leg stills and she lets out a deep breath, smoothing her sweatshirt.

"Okay, yeah you're right, I'm being silly."

Jay shakes his head, reaching over and squeezing her hand.

"You are not being silly, you have every right to be nervous. You focus on yourself and I'll take care of the rest. Just breathe"

She takes a deep breath in through her nose, letting it out.

Jay takes the opportunity to get out of the driver side, making his way to her door and opening it for her.

"What a gentleman" Y/n says jokingly. But if she's honest, she's not used to a guy opening the door for her. Brandon would never do something that simple over the years they were together.

Jay chuckles as he shuts the door behind her, guiding her to the basement door.

Y/n notices the cage as soon as they enter the basement, glancing at Jay "I don't even want to know what that's for" she jokes, pointing at it.

"Don't worry you'll never be in it, I know someone that will be though" the last part is under his breath but Y/n hears it and she would be lying if she said that doesn't make her feel a little good.

Once upstairs, Y/n can feel all eyes on her as the four detectives at their desks watch them curiously.

None of them knew what was going on. The only one Jay looped in was Voight, explaining the situation late last night after he left his brother's apartment.

Voight was quick to tell Jay to bring her in. He had the same hatred for men like Brandon.

Jay knocks on the door to Voight's office, Y/n tries to relax but it's hard with all eyes on her. Jay senses it, sending her a small smile.

Which works, her heart rate relaxing slowly.

"Come in" a rough voice comes from the other side of the door.

Jay opens the door, letting Y/n in first before stepping in, shutting the door.

"Y/n this is my Sargent Hank Voight" Jay introduces, the older man standing from his desk.

"It's nice to meet you Y/n, Jay's explained the situation already. We're keeping this in house, meaning the only people that will be involved will be Jay, Myself, and the detectives sitting out there" Voight speaks softly, softer than normal trying to make her feel a little less nervous.

Y/n nods, giving Voight a small smile "Thank you, Sargent. I never thought anyone would believe me, I know it's tough with Brandon being a detec-"

The older man cuts her off, shaking his head "It doesn't matter who he is, he has no right to lay a hand on you. We're going to make sure he goes down for this" Hank reassures her, this time placing a hand on her arm softly.

"Would you be comfortable talking to the others to go over everything?" Jay asks softly from her right "No pressure"

Y/n contemplates it for a second before nodding "Yeah, as long as you're there"

That seems to be her answer for everything but as long as Jay is with her she feels safe.

"Okay, we'll talk in the conference room" Jay says, knowing it's a private area.

"You can take her to the conference room, I'll gather the team" Voight offers and Jay nods, opening the office door and guiding Y/n out.

The rest of the team watch them walk down the hall, curiosity eating away at them.

--

Meeting the rest of the intelligence went well, it was mostly Y/n recounting every thing that happened the past six months, which was when it really started to get bad with Brandon. When it got physical.

It started with little comments that were meant to bring her down, lower her self esteem. Then it built up to the physical stuff.

The rest of the unit either looked sorry for her or angry as she recounted everything, Jay by her side as she did so. Trying to give her some comfort.

The team all noticed that. The way she would tense up, Jay would place a hand on hers and she would relax.

You would think they knew each other for years.

The team had made a plan, Brandon was undercover currently and was supposed to be finished in two days. Voight was impatient, once they had things ready they were planning to pick him up. The photos of her injuries were evidence and they even found a girlfriend from the past, before Brandon got with Y/n.

It was in high school, he broke her jaw and cracked three of her ribs. It had been expunged form his record since he was technically a minor.

"That poor girl" Y/n said softly, feeling sadness as she sat in the chair next to Jay's desk, glancing at the girl that Haley and Adam were talking to in the small break room.

Jay only glanced at her, it was amazing how she felt so bad for the other girl, not even caring about her own injuries.

Brandon could have easily killed her that night and from what Jay had heard he almost did. Or at least probably thought about it.

Finishing up their interview, Haley guided the woman back down the stairs, the woman sending Y/n a sympathetic look.

"How are you doing?" Adam asks softly as he approaches Jay's desk and glancing at Y/n.

She shrugs "I don't know, I just feel bad for her going through that" she says quietly.

Adam smiles at her sadly before sitting at his desk.

Jay stands from his desk, picking up his keys and phone "Come on, I'll take you back to Will's. You should be resting" He doesn't say it as a question but not as an order either.

Y/n stands up, looking at Jay "I'm not broken" she says, hands on her hips.

Jay gives her a 'really' look "Will told me you were stubborn. There's nothing to do right now except let us work and arrest him. So, I am taking you home to rest and put some ice on your eye, okay?" He says it nicely, not in a mean way but in a concerned way.

Damn you Will Halstead

"William needs to mind his business" Y/n says under her breath as Jay guides through the hallway and downstairs to the basement.

"Couldn't agree more" Jay jokes, a smirk on his face and Y/n laughs quietly.

Once they get to the truck, Jay opens he passenger side door for her. Waiting for her to climb in the truck before shutting the door and starting the truck.

As Jay pulls out of the parking lot, Y/n has a thought swirling around in her mind.

"Jay" her voice has a different tone. scared. It makes Jay look over at her quickly.

"What if he finds me" it's quiet, whispered as if she says it too loud Brandon will just pop up.

"Then I'll be there. Hand me your phone" Jay's voice is calm, unwavering as he puts his hand out.

Y/n furrows her eyebrows, taking her phone out of her pants pocket and unlocking it, putting it in Jay's hand.

Keeping his eyes on the road, he taps the screen a few times, typing something in and then handing it back to her.

"You speed dial 1 and it will call me. Anything happens you call and I'll be there" It's a promise. A promise to show up. That's more than anyone has ever given her.

--

Y/n is sat on the couch in Will's living room, watching a movie and icing her eye.

Jay made sure she had everything she needed before leaving.

"Lock the door and lock the deadbolt after me" Jay had said and Y/n sent him a fake salute before he left the apartment, an amused look on his face.

It was only one more hour until Will was off shift and then maybe her uneasiness of being here alone with him out there would be gone.

That's when there's a loud knock on the apartment door.

Y/n's eyebrows furrow. Who could that be?

Then there's banging "Y/n, I know you're here"

Her blood ran cold.

No way.

This is not happening.

What a damn coincidence.

He wasn't supposed to be out of his assignment for two days.

Two more loud thumps.

"Come on, honey open the door" Brandon tries to sound nice, but Y/n knows better.

Her breathing is quickened as the door knob jiggles.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Grabbing her phone and moving as quietly as possible she goes the guest room, shutting and locking the door and then going to the bathroom and shutting and locking that door.

She can hear him banging on the door more and yelling.

Okay maybe it's time to call for help.

Unlocking her phone with shaky hands, she opens the call app, pressing the 1.

She can hear the ringing and Jay answers on the second ring.

"He's here" That's all she can get out.

That's all she needs to say before Jay is moving from his desk. Placing his gun in the holster on his hip and grabbing his keys.

"Where are you right now?" he asks, staying calm.

He covers the phone, speaking to the team "We gotta go, he found her"

They're all on their feet in a matter of seconds and making their way downstairs--Kim telling Voight.

"I-in the bathroom" Y/n responds before there's a loud noise heard through the phone "Shit, I think he just broke the door"

Jay's got his truck started in a matter of seconds, Haley in the passenger seat as he speeds out of the parking lot, the phone on speaker now.

"Y/n don't hang up, just stay where you are. I'm on my way, we're coming." Jay tries to reassure her but he can barely stay clam himself as he hears more loud banging and yelling on the other end.

"Come on! I just want to talk! I don't know why you do this to me" Brandon's voice is muffled but Jay hear it and he exchanges worried glances with Haley.

Another loud bang.

"There you are, I know you talked to the cops you bitch"

On the other end, Brandon grabs her by her hair, landing a punch to her left abdomen.

Y/n groans doubling over as he pulls her up.

"They'll never believe you, a detectives words against you? It will never work." He has a sickeningly evil smirk on his face as he throws her to the ground.

Brandon draws his gun, aiming it at Y/n's curled up body on the bathroom floor.

"Chicago PD!" Y/n hears Haley yell and the relief washes over her.

"Put it down, Brandon!" Jay yells, gun pointed at the man.

"I'm on the job guys" He says as if that makes everything okay.

Voight steps up, coming behind him and pressing his gun to the back of Brandon's head.

"Put it down" His voice is gruff and Y/n can see the look in his eye, Brandon finally realizing they are not on his side.

He drops the gun, Hank grabbing him and slamming him against the wall as Haley kicks the gun away.

Jay moves on instinct not even giving it a second thought, grabbing Brandon by the collar and shoving him against the wall again.

"Guess what, I believe her" Jay's voice is darker than usual as he forcefully turns Brandon, shoving his face into the wall as he handcuffs him, making sure the cuffs are extra tight.

Adam takes Brandon from Jay "You realize what's going to happen to you? Sure they hate cops where you're going but you know what they hate more? Guys who beat women" it's not a threat or a suggestion. It's a promise.

Once Brandon's out of his sight, Jay relaxes, finding Y/n sat against the tub, Kim checking on her while Haley goes to direct the paramedics.

Jay kneels down next to her "I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner" he says it as if he's the only one responsible. As if they didn't save her.

"You showed up. That's all I needed" this time Y/n squeezes his hand comfortingly.

The paramedics finally enter the bathroom, taking Y/n's vitals and listening to her breathing. Of course she refuses to go to the hospital. Knowing they wouldn't be able to do much for her cracked ribs anyway.

The team has cleared out mostly, lingering in the rest of the apartment, Kevin and Kim speaking to the neighbors and getting statements.

Will comes running into the apartment, seeing the front door broken like it was kicked in.

He sees the team and he's terrified.

"Guys? Is Y/n-"

Adam stops him "She's okay, Brandon showed up, she's got a couple cracked ribs. Jay's with her and the paramedics are checking her out" he explains, pointing to the guest room.

Will lets out a sigh of relief "Thanks" he says before making his way to the guest room.

He finds Y/n now sat on the bed, Jay sat next to her and the paramedics packing up.

"Will, i am so sorry about the doors I will absolutely pay for them to get fixed" Y/n says immediately seeing her ginger best friend.

Will looks at her with wide eyes, his mouth opens and shuts before he finds his words "You think that's what I'm worried about?!" he questions in disbelief.

"Yes?" She says as a question and Jay does his best to stifle his laughter.

"Y/n I could care less about the doors" the red head sighs, looking at his brother "Thank you for being here"

"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else" Jay says, looking at Y/n with a small smile.

Will knows that look in his brother's eyes but he doesn't say anything.

"I'm getting my kit to check you out."

"Will, the paramedics literally cleared me"

"And I literally don't care, stop being stubborn" Will says sassily, leaving the room.

Y/n groans, but instantly regrets it, her hand going to her side as she coughs.

"Alright, easy there, sassy" Jay says, an amused tone in his voice as he places a hand on her back comfortingly.

Will returns to the room with his med kit, glancing between his brother and friend knowingly.

----

The first wave of pain wasn’t anything Y/N Halstead hadn’t felt before. A dull ache in her stomach, a rolling nausea that wouldn’t quit, the kind of thing she told herself was just a stomach bug. It was flu season. People at work had been out sick left and right, same at school. She figured she’d caught whatever was going around, but she still had work to do. 

Tylenol. Ginger tea. Broth. That was her plan. She had assignments to finish, shifts to cover, and two older brothers who worried too much as it was. But the days dragged on.

Day one, she shivered under her blankets, chills running through her while sweat beaded at her hairline. She ignored the pang of guilt when she blatantly lied to Will via text. Day two, she tried to force herself to class, in agony, and putting on what she hoped was a genuine smile when people asked. She barely made it back to the couch before curling in on herself. By day three, her fever had climbed, Her head felt like the drum set at a rock concert, and the pain in her belly had sharpened into something merciless, clawing at her insides, showing no signs of stopping anytime soon.

What she didn’t tell herself was the truth: that every hour she stayed on that couch, she was slipping closer to a line she might not be able to crawl back from. One that might make her brothers be even more overprotective than they already are. 

When the front door finally opened late that evening, she barely stirred, too far under the feverish haze.

Will pushed it open, rubbing his eyes after a long shift at Med. Jay trailed behind him, shrugging out of his jacket and kicking off his work boots, both of them exhausted. The sound of their voices filled the apartment like it always did—warm, grounding.

“Smells like takeout,” Jay muttered, setting a bag on the counter.

“Y/N?” Will called out automatically. “Where are you?”

Y/N always told them if she wasn’t going to be at home. Whether it be work or studying, or a club. Even when she was home, there was the TV running in the background, cooking a new recipe for the two of them to try, or music from whatever her current favorite artist is.

It was Will who saw her first, a pale shape on the couch, sweat plastering her hair to her forehead, curled into herself with shallow breaths.

“Jesus Christ.” He was at her side in seconds, hand pressing to her forehead. The heat radiating off her made his stomach drop.

He whirled around and grabbed the thermometer he kept in the bin under the coffee table, and swiped it across her forehead.

“Damn it. 104.3” He swore to show the thermometer to Jay.

Her eyes fluttered open at the intrusion, glazed and confused. “Will?” Her voice was barely a croak.

“I’m here.” He kept his tone calm, clinical, even though panic twisted in his chest. He shifted her gently, fingers pressing into her abdomen—and she gasped, trying to curl tighter, tears springing to her eyes.

“Talk to me, what do you need?” Jay demanded, hovering.

Will’s voice was clipped. “Rigid abdomen. Guarding. Rebound tenderness. She’s burning up. Jay—this isn’t a stomach bug. This is appendicitis. And it’s perforated.”

Jay swore, heart slamming against his ribs. “So what do we do?”

“We need to move. Now.”

Jay didn’t waste a second. He scooped his sister into his arms, blanket and all, and she whimpered at the change.  Will barked instructions. “Backseat. I’ll monitor her. Drive fast but don’t get us killed.”

The words barely landed. Jay was already running.

The drive to Med blurred into adrenaline and headlights, and Jay was slightly reckless even with his lights and sirens turned on.

Jay drove like a man possessed, weaving through traffic, horn blaring, his jaw clenched so tight it hurt. In the backseat, Will cradled his sister upright, murmuring reassurances she was too far gone to process.

Her head lolled against his shoulder, skin clammy, eyes half-lidded. “Stay with me, Y/N,” he pleaded, shaking her lightly. “Come on, kiddo. You’re okay. Just keep breathing. We’ve got you.”

She made a weak sound, nothing more, and Jay pressed harder on the gas, running a red light with a curse.

“Almost there,” Will said, but it felt more like a prayer.

The ED doors burst open, and Will was already shouting. “Connor! She’s in septic shock from a ruptured appendix! Fever’s spiking, BP’s tanking!”

Connor Rhodes appeared in an instant, snapping gloves on. He looked at the Halsteads—Will wild-eyed and pale, Jay carrying her and looking like he’d take out the world with his bare hands—and then at Y/N, limp and burning up on the gurney.

April and Monique rushed in as Jay laid her on the gurney in Trauma 2. 

“BP 94/40, Pulse 145, Temp 104.5, O2 sat 92% on non rebreather.” April called out

“Get 2 large bore IVs and push a fluid bolus in both, and get broad-spectrum antibiotics started, hang norepinephrine if her pressure doesn’t come up,” Connor ordered, already gloving up.

“Get her upstairs now,” Connor ordered. “We’re going straight to the OR.”

Jay tried to follow, but a nurse blocked him. “Family has to wait.”

“The hell I will—”

“Jay.” Will’s voice cracked, torn between roles. “Let them work. It’s her best shot.”

Helpless, the brothers were left in the waiting room, pacing holes in the floor, clutching Styrofoam cups of coffee that went cold untouched.

Connor opened her abdomen and swore under his breath.

“Perforation confirmed. The peritoneal cavity is full of purulent fluid. Irrigation now.”

The smell was sharp, acrid. His hands moved quickly, resecting the necrotic appendix, suctioning, irrigating liter after liter of saline through her abdominal cavity. Every second counted.

“How are her numbers?”

“Soft pressures, sats borderline,” the anesthesiologist said. “We’re pushing fluids and pressors.”

Finally, the appendix was gone, the cavity washed, drains in place. But her body wasn’t strong enough to breathe alone.

“She stays intubated,” Connor said. “Sedate until she stabilizes.”

The first time Y/N woke, it was like surfacing into hell.

Her throat burned. Her chest felt tight, wrong, as air was forced into her lungs. She tried to inhale, but the machine did it for her. She tried to speak, but nothing came. Panic surged, primal and overwhelming.

Her eyes flew open. Alarms screamed as her pulse skyrocketed. She thrashed, tugging against the soft restraints that were there to keep her from attempting self-extubation. 

“Y/N—hey!” Will was there instantly, voice steady but urgent. “You’re intubated. That’s why you can’t talk. You need help breathing right now. You’re safe, kiddo. You’re safe.”

But panic overrode everything. She twisted, fought, and managed to slip one wrist free. “Shit—she’s going for it!” Jay called.

Connor strode in like a thunderclap. “Ativan, now!” He called, his tone leaving no room for argument. 

The sedative hit her bloodstream. Her movements slowed, eyes fluttering shut, lashes wet with tears as her body gave in.

Will pressed his forehead to her wrist, shaking. Jay turned away, fists pressed to his eyes. Neither said a word.

Hours later, Connor made the call. “She’s ready. We’ll extubate.”

Will stood on one side, Jay on the other, both holding their breath as the team gathered.

“Y/N we are going to go ahead and get this tube out. I need you to follow my instructions. It’s not gonna be fun for a few seconds, but it'll be quick. Do you understand?” Connor asked, his gloved hand stroking her cheek affectionately. 

She nodded weakly, tears welled up in her eyes. 

“Deep breath in,” Connor instructed. “And out.”

The tube slid free. Y/N gagged, coughing violently, chest heaving as a non rebreather was placed on her face. Relief hit, but then panic surged again.

Her breaths came too fast, shallow, her lips turned dusky. The monitor wailed.

“Y/N, slow down!” Will pleaded. “You’re okay. You’re breathing on your own. Just slow down.”

Connor’s tone was sharp. “If she doesn’t calm down, we’ll have no choice but to re-intubate.”

Jay stepped forward, voice breaking. “You hear that, kid? They’ll put it back in. You don’t want that again. Breathe with us. Look at me. Will cupped her face, grounding her. “Right here. In… out. You can do this. You don’t need the tube. Just breathe.”

Slowly, painfully, her breaths steadied. The sats climbed. Color returned.

The monitor calmed.

Jay sagged back into his chair, dragging a hand down his face. “Jesus Christ.”

Will didn’t let go of her hand. His voice cracked. “You scared us, Y/N. Don’t ever hide something like this again.”

Her reply was broken, barely a whisper. “Didn’t… wanna bother you.”

Both brothers froze, gutted.

Jay leaned down, forehead against hers. “You’re never a bother. Never.”

Will’s voice was thick. “You could’ve died. Don’t ever do that again.”

Connor slipped out quietly, leaving the storm to settle between the siblings.

Two days later, Connor stood at her bedside during morning rounds. “She’s stable. Normally I’d keep a perforation patient longer, but—” he looked at Will “—with you here, I’m comfortable sending her home tomorrow. You can handle her site and drains?”

Will nodded instantly. “Yes.”

Y/N croaked, “Home… please.”

Connor smiled faintly. “Home it is.”

Home was better.

Will turned the couch into a recovery station—pillows, blankets, meds lined neatly, wound care supplies within reach. He hovered constantly, checking vitals, writing everything down like he was still in the ED.

By day seven, she was stronger. Sitting up with help, sipping broth, even managing a faint smile when Jay teased her about being tougher than both her brothers combined.

On day seven, Connor had insisted on coming by to check Y/N himself. Will had been monitoring the incision and drain daily, but Connor wanted a surgeon’s eyes on it—especially given how septic she’d been pre-op.

Y/N knew something was up the second Connor set his bag on the counter and laid out supplies: a sterile kit, scissors, gauze, gloves, and a small biohazard container. She shifted uneasily on the couch, pulling the blanket higher.

“You’ve been doing great,” Connor said evenly, slipping on gloves. “But I think it’s time we take that drain out.”

Her eyes widened instantly. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Y/N,” Will began, sitting on the arm of the couch. “It’s a good thing. It means your body’s healing—there’s not enough fluid building up to need the drain anymore.”

“Then leave it!” she snapped, her voice trembling. “If it’s not hurting anything, just leave it.”

Jay crouched at her side, squeezing her hand. “Bug, it’s better to get it out before it causes a problem. The longer it stays, the higher the infection risk.”

She shook her head, chest heaving, eyes darting from Connor to the tubing pinned against her abdomen. “You’re not touching it.”

Connor’s tone stayed calm but firm, professional with a thread of sympathy. “I know it sounds scary, but leaving it in when it’s no longer needed is more dangerous than removing it. It’ll be quick, I promise.”

Still, when he leaned closer to start prepping, Y/N panicked. She twisted hard, nearly yanking her arm from Jay’s grasp, and shoved weakly at Connor’s wrist with trembling fingers. “Don’t—please don’t!”

Connor immediately pulled back, raising both hands in surrender. Will stepped in, crouching so she couldn’t avoid his eyes. “Hey. No one’s going to force you. Listen to me, okay? This means you’re getting better. It’s going to hurt, yes. It’s going to feel awful. But once it’s out, you’ll move easier, you’ll heal faster, and there’s no risk of bacteria creeping up the line. That’s what you want, right? To get back to yourself?”

Jay pressed a kiss into her temple. “We’re right here. Both of us. You can squeeze the hell out of my hand if you need to. Just… trust us.”

Tears streaked her cheeks, but at last she gave a small, miserable nod. “Okay. Just—please don’t let go of me.”

Connor moved methodically, talking her through it. “First I’ll cut the suture holding the tube in place. You’ll feel a tug. Then I’ll slowly slide the drain out—pressure, maybe some stinging, but it’s fast. Deep breaths, alright?”

Y/N buried her face into Jay’s shoulder, white-knuckling his hand.

The suture snapped under Connor’s scissors, and she flinched violently, a strangled whimper tearing from her throat. When he started to ease the tube free, she panicked again, twisting, trying to push his hand away.

“Hold, hold—pause,” Connor ordered quickly, freezing his movements. He met her eyes, steady and unwavering. “Y/N. This is the hardest part. We’re almost done. One more pull and it’s out for good. You can do this.”

Jay cupped her cheek, forcing her to focus. “One more, bug. Just one. Then it’s over.”

 She nodded against him. Connor resumed, steady and controlled, and with one smooth pull the drain slid free.

She gasped sharply, gagging at the slick, invasive sensation—and seconds later lurched sideways, retching violently into the basin Will shoved under her chin.

“All done,” Connor reassured quietly, dropping the tubing into the biohazard bin. He pressed fresh gauze over the site, firm but gentle. “That’s it. No more drain.”

But the victory was short-lived. Y/N’s breathing stayed rapid and shallow, her pulse monitor ticking up as her skin went pale.

“BP’s trending down—92 over 54,” Will reported, his tone sharpening. “Heart rate 132.”

“Just panic,” Connor said quickly, already signaling a nurse he’d brought to prep a backup kit. “But we need to bring her down before she tips further.”

Will drew up a small syringe, tapping it. “Ativan, one milligram IM. Just enough to calm her, not knock her out.”

Jay held her steady while Will injected it into her thigh.

“Shh, you’re okay,” Jay whispered, rocking her slightly. “That’s it. Breathe with me. Slow. In… out…”

Connor checked the dressing once more, satisfied, then stripped off his gloves. “Drain’s out. Wound looks good. She’ll be sore, and the nausea might hang around tonight, but this was the right call.”

Jay kissed her damp hair, murmuring against her temple. “You did it, bug. I know you didn’t want to, but you did it.”

She sagged weakly against him, glassy-eyed but calmer, and for the first time since she’d come home, Connor allowed himself a small nod of approval.

Y/N leaned back against her brothers, blanket tangled around them like a protective cocoon. Jay’s hand never left hers, and Will hovered nearby, glancing over her with a soft, proud smile.

“You’re safe,” Jay whispered, pressing his forehead to hers. “And you’re home. That’s all that matters.”

Will nodded, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “We’re never letting anything like that happen again. You’re ours, and we’ve got you—always.”

Y/N closed her eyes, letting herself finally relax, letting the panic and fear slip away. 

Safe. Loved. Whole.

Her brothers were there, and that was everything.

Today's dinner had been planned for months now and every single time, something came up and it had to be postponed.

First, Jay was unexpectedly gone undercover, and you and Will didn't want him to 'miss out'. The second time, you were pulled in last minute to supervise the annual school camping trip. The third time Will had been unavailable to what you guys later found out was a massive pile up at the hospital that he didn't reply till two days later. And the other four times after that were all results of mainly your brothers work lives getting in the way.

Today had been the day where nothing would go wrong. You'd all messaged earlier on and nothing had come up to change your plans. There was going to be nothing in the way to stop this dinner from taking place tonight.

The high school you worked at was having their parent teacher meetings today, your last one being half an hour before the reservation Jay booked.

Your work best friend who you always drove with had a later meeting and so you were taking the train, your make up in your bag. Your clothes were good enough for restaurant you three frequented growing up.

Waving the other teachers goodnight, wishing them luck with the remainder of their parents, you made your way to the train station, phone in hand as you updated your brothers that you had left work.

It was dark out, the sun had almost fully set, and it was at that time during the autumn when the sun started setting earlier. But the station was close enough and having a detective as a brother meant that he taught you things that would be useful just in case.

Rummaging through your bag looking for your card, you cursed yourself for how messy your things were and with the addition of your makeup, searching for your card that wasn't in its purse was very difficult.

Stopping in your tracks, you huffed in frustration at not being able to find your card. Taking your bag off your shoulder, you used your dominant hand to dig deep. You definitely put it in this morning, you never left the house without it.

Finally finding the card, you resumed your walking, rounding the corner from the train station when you heard very familiar popping sounds went off.

Ducking around the corner, you stood still as you waited for the shooting to pass. Your hands trembled slightly as you dialled 911.

But before you could press the call button, a wave of immense pain washed over you.

Time seemed to move in slow motion. Your surroundings all started to blur; the shootings no longer audible to as a ringing sound drowned your ears.

Following such intense pain was numbness. Your phone and card fell from hand, pins and needles enveloping your fingers as you lost all feeling in your entire body but your chest.

In the far back of your mind, you could hear Will's words from a night he taught you and Jay first aid. At the distant thought, you tried moving your hands to put pressure on your chest, but nothing moved.

Your breathing was now shallow, gasping out of rhythm the more you struggled. Everything was becoming so blurred to the point the flowers on your dress were no longer visible.

Coughing increased your pain tenfold; blood was now trickling out your mouth. With whatever consciousness remained, your panic sank in even further.

What had been a good day at work and a supposed even better evening spent with your brothers had taken a sudden turn for the worst when you'd been caught in the crossfire.

Here you were, bleeding out in the dark in the middle of the street with no one nearby.

Forming any sort of thoughts became even more difficult the more time passed. While thinking about what was going to happen next, your inevitable thought were your brothers who were completely oblivious.

And they were the last thing on your mind when you were no longer able to fight against your heavy eyelids.

*****

Jay arrived first. Everyone was still at the precinct but after asking very politely, Voight let him off early. Jay was sat at the reserved table for twenty minutes before Will showed up, apologising for his tardiness as surgery ran over a little longer than expected.

They had put off ordering till you arrived, only asking for drinks as they waited for you.

The first ten minutes they simply thought you got caught up with more parents but then ten turned into twenty and they were concerned.

You were usually very punctual so being this late was out of the ordinary but to also not tell them in advance that you were going to be late. Something was clearly wrong.

Confused, they both took turns messaging and calling you, both of which you didn’t reply or answer.

Now they were concerned.

Luckily, all three of you were sharing your locations with each other after leaning from many past experiences. Quickly checking your whereabouts, they found you not too far away from your school near the train station but looking at your movements for five minutes, you remained put.

Without any words, both brothers were out their chairs and apologising to their waiter who had been so patient with them. Getting into Jay’s truck – Will being dropped of by Natalie – they drove towards your location, their concern transitioning into anxiety at the unknown.

It didn’t take too long to get there. Jay parking his truck on the side and Will getting out without waiting for the car to stop.

Walking around the corner, they weren’t too sure what to expect but it definitely wasn’t this.

There you were, unconscious, leaning against the side of a building, legs sprawled out forward and your head tilted to the side, blood trickling out your mouth. Your hands were limp around your abdomen where your floral dress was clearly ruined, drowning in blood.

Instantly, Will sprung forward, kneeling besides you as he called your name several time. You never responded nor did you even move an inch.

“Y/N? You with me?” As Will switched into ‘doctor mode’, Jay wasted no time in calling it in, relaying his badge number and stressing the importance of this emergency to dispatch before calling Voight, knowing the man and a few of his colleagues were still working.

Placing his fingers on the side of your neck, Will tensed up as he felt your weak and irregular pulse. Swallowing harshly, Will took inventory of every injury, not matter how big or small.

He addressed the obvious first, your chest that was still bleeding profusely. Taking off his jumper, he ripped it in half, wrapping one around your chest as tight as possible to try stop the bleeding. You had lost so much already and even with the clothing around your chest, his jumper was already soaking in so much blood.

“I’m so sorry Y/N.” Will apologised before tightening a knot, wincing when you finally whimpered. Your whimper was ever so soft that if he wasn’t so focused on you, he wouldn’t have heard it.

“Hey- Y/N, open your eyes for me please.” Will’s resolve was struggling at the sight of his little sister bleeding out and there only being so much he could do to help. But Jay, he felt even more helpless, standing back only being able to watch as his brother did his best to help with so little resources.

Surveying the area, Jay tried looking for anything out of the ordinary, but it was fully dark now, no people out as they all got ready for bed.

Turning on his phone flashlight, Jay easily caught sight of several stray bullets littering the road and pavement. With this new lighting, you looked even worse for wear, your bloody chest even more alarming now that they could actually get a good look at you.

“Shit. Will what- “

“I’ve got her Jay.” Will said firmly, looking him in the eye but his own were watery. That didn’t assure Jay as much as he wanted it to.

All of a sudden, before Jay could say anything, Will’s head snapped back towards you, his fingers going back to your pulse before moving even more forward, ducking his ear near your nose.

Will’s fast movements could only mean one thing. Before Will could even do anything, Jay already knew what was happening.

You weren’t breathing anymore.

Laying you flat on the pavement, Will winced as he placed his hands on your chest, apologising before he started chest compressions.

Each compression produced more blood, Will’s hands absolutely coated and dropping in your blood. It made him feel sick.

“Jay, I need you to take over.” Will said after some time had passed, his arms slowly starting to aching, knowing he had to take a minute before he could continue.

Kneeling on the opposite side of Will on the other side of your body, Will counting him in before he took over.

As soon as Will’s hands were off your chest, they were immediately replaced with Jay’s, almost as if it wasn’t two different people.

Will’s fingers were sticky, your blood dripping down his fingers, glued under his nails and coating his sleeves. It felt so surreal.

“Alright Jay, swap back with me on three.” Will told his brother after two minutes, not wanting him to get too tired either.

Jay’s hands were in the same state when he stopped.

“Will, its so much blood.” His voice was shaky, reality setting in as Will continued chest compressions when nothing changed.

Will only looked up at Jay with a certain glint in his eyes that he hadn’t seen since their dad died-

“Will she’s-“

The blaring sirens cut him off, blue and red lights blinding them as the appeared around the corner.

Jay got up, walking towards the newcomers when he recognised the cars in front.

“Jay, what happened?” Hank asked, approaching his detective first. His eyes clocking Jay’s bloody hands before asking “Who-“

“It’s Y/N.” Jay said, leading Intelligence and the paramedics towards the scene. “She’s been shot. I think she got caught in a shooting- she’s lost so much blood and she’s not breathing anymore but there’s no culprits anywhere and-“

“Jay, it’s okay, we’ve got this.” Hank physically had to stop the younger man, looking him straight in the eye. “We’re gonna get them, I promise.”

Hank never made promises, it was sworn off by every first responder but everyone knew that Voight never broke his promises.

“Alright Desmond, on my count I need you to take over for me.” Will said, taking charge as soon as the familiar paramedics joined him.

Instantly complying, the paramedic took over the compressions, letting Will sit back on his toes. “We need to shock her, she’s gone without a pulse for nearly thirteen minutes.”

Both paramedics looked up at him knowingly, their sombre faces ones which Will purposefully ignored even with the bitterness heavy on his tongue.

“Will I’m sorry but…”

*****

You were now connected to the portable monitor in the ambulance and to hear the repeating beeps, signalling there was no heartbeat only made things more real. But Will hadn’t given up, even with the sympathetic looks he received from the two paramedics.

Jay had joined them in the back of the ambulance, leaving the crime scene in the capable hands of Intelligence and with the promise that he’d be kept in the loop.

In what felt like recording breaking speed, they arrived at Med. Wasting no time, the stretcher was pulled out the ambulance, Desmond swapping places with Will on top of the stretcher over your body, who now took over the chest compressions.

“Maggie, is Baghdad open?” Will asked, raising his voice as they rolled into the ED, his back to all his colleagues.

“It’s all yours. Connor, Ethan!” The two men were already moving before Maggie had even called out their names.

“She’s been shot in the chest, the bullets still inside. Pulse was weak before it was lost, been doing CPR ever since and was shocked twice in between.”

“How long Will?” Connor asked, looking at the redhead worriedly, eyeing the bloody states of all three Halstead siblings. “Will, how long has she been unconscious?”

But Will never replied. “Ethan, come here and take over.”

The Korean shared a knowingly glance with the trauma surgeon but obliged anyways.

Stepping back, Will stood besides Maggie who was hooking you up to all the monitors necessary.

“The bleeding finally stopped en route.”

“When was she shot?” Connor asked, surveying the rest of your body for any other bullet wounds.

“We, we don’t know.” Will’s voiced cracked from the emotion and uncertainty. “Gosh, it’s been over fourteen minutes since.”

Will physically couldn’t find it in himself to finish the sentence.

“Okay, paddles Maggie.”

*****

Both brothers were forced out the treatment room and Will could not convince Maggie to change her mind one bit.

“She’s in good hands. Ethan and Connor will be in surgery for hours so I need you two to rest.”

Will and Jay were way too tense, their faces grim at the unknown future of their younger sister.

“Let’s wash your hands first and get into a change of clothes.” Maggie was as gentle as she would be with kids, smiling softly as she helped the brothers somewhat get their shit together.

The blood wouldn’t wash away. It remained stuck under their nails, speckles stubborn like glitter. Knowing your blood was on their hands, it was gut wrenching.

Will always kept a change of clothes in his locker. He and Jay rid of their stained shirts with whatever was left in the locker but even in a new change of clothes and washed up, they still felt disgusting.

“Will…” Jay softly called his name, clearing his throat when his voice cracked. “What did they mean about not breathing for more than fourteen minutes?”

The doctor screwed his eyes shut at his younger brothers question. His tone insinuating that he knew but was in denial and wanted confirmation that his suspicions were wrong.  

“There’s-“ Will struggled to face reality, ripping off the bandage for his brother. “There’s a very low chance she makes it. And, and if she does there will be consequences- like, really bad side effects.”

Jay clenched his jaw, turning his head away to look out the doctors lounge window into the surprisingly mellow emergency department.

“We broke our promise.”

“I know.”

“What are we meant to do?”

Several beats passed before Jay received a reply, one in which caused silent tears to finally start falling.

3. Exes

The scent of cinnamon and roasted hazelnut is the signature of my little sanctuary, The Autumn Page. It sits just three blocks from the sterile, fluorescent intensity of Chicago Med, acting as a decompression chamber for anyone in blue scrubs who needs a five-minute escape. I own the place, I run the till, and currently, I’m wading through the dense, fascinating jungle of my second year of graduate psychology studies. The café is my lab; the customers—particularly the doctors—are endlessly compelling case studies in stress management, ego, and exhaustion - That’s how I first encountered Dr. Will Halstead.

He started showing up in the late afternoons, usually around 4:30 PM, looking like a man who hadn't sat down since midnight. His red hair was usually a mess, and the intensity in his blue eyes suggested he was perpetually locked in a moral debate.

"Double espresso, black, and maybe a small miracle," he requested one blustery afternoon in early October, tossing his badge onto the counter.

I smiled, starting the machine. "Miracles are extra, I’m afraid. But I can offer you a very specific kind of therapy. It involves nutmeg."

He leaned an elbow on the counter, managing a tired, lopsided grin. "You know, for a barista you have a surprising grasp of my psychological needs."

"I see the war in your eyes, Doctor," I replied, sliding the cup toward him. "It’s the look of someone who knows he just saved a life and broke three hospital protocols to do it."

He paused, taking a slow sip of the espresso. His eyes widened slightly. "You must have excellent people-watching skills."

"It’s required reading for my minor in observing medical professionals. Tell me, was it worth the inevitable confrontation with the chief administrator?"

He shook his head, a mixture of frustration and satisfaction clouding his features. "It’s always worth it, Y/N. You can’t put a price on doing the right thing, even if the rules say otherwise."

That was Will. Intense, self-righteous, undeniably empathetic, and convinced he was the only person seeing the moral truth. A walking, talking complex wrapped in expensive scrubs.

The next day, he didn't just grab his espresso; he lingered. He asked me about my studies. I told him I was particularly interested in the intersection of empathy and occupational burnout in high-stress fields.

"You’re analyzing me," he accused, though his tone was playful.

"Everyone is a data point, Will," I said, wiping down the steam wand. "But you, Doctor, are a fascinating outlier."

He laughed, a genuine, deep sound that made the coffee grinder seem quiet. "I’ll take that as a compliment."

As the days blended into a cozy, spiced rhythm, Will became a constant. He moved from quick grabs to occupying the small armchair by the exposed brick wall, occasionally pulling out a heavily underlined medical journal, though I noticed he spent more time watching me work.

It was Will’s third week of dedicated visits when I finally brought up the book club.

"We’re starting our October read this Friday," I announced, placing his usual black coffee and, today, a small complimentary pumpkin scone on his saucer.

"A book club? Sounds aggressively wholesome," he teased.

"It is. And it’s fall-themed. This month, we are reading ‘A Separation’—it’s about grief, memory, and the stories we invent to cope with reality. I’d argue it’s highly applicable to your field."

He looked surprised, running a hand through his hair. "I… I don’t think I have time for leisure reading."

"It’s not leisure, Will. Consider it mandatory emotional hygiene. You spend all day dealing with the physical reality of trauma; you need a few hours to deal with the psychological architecture of pain. No rules, no protocols, just discussion."

He hesitated, then the corner of his mouth curved up. "Is this another one of your psychological interventions?"

"Absolutely. Plus, there’s spiced cider and comfortable lighting. No arguments allowed."

He finally capitulated, and that Friday evening, in the low glow of string lights and the scent of burning cinnamon sticks, Will showed up. He was wearing jeans and a soft, dark sweater instead of scrubs, and the difference was startling. He looked less like a doctor and more like the compelling man I suspected he was underneath the "God complex" armor.

The book club was small—just five of us—and Will, though initially guarded, found himself drawn into the debate about fractured narratives and the rightness of memory. After everyone else left, leaving behind empty cider mugs and the ghosts of profound thoughts, Will helped me stack the chairs.

"I haven’t talked about anything that wasn’t related to organ failure or hospital administration in months," he admitted, dusting off his hands. "It was… strangely therapeutic."

"I told you," I said, tying the apron strings around my waist. "You just need permission to turn off the Halstead Hero complex for a few hours."

He leaned against the wooden counter, his gaze serious. "Is that what you think I have? A hero complex?"

"A well-intentioned one, yes. You have this incredible capacity for empathy, Will. But when you feel strongly, you skip the process. You confuse ‘the right thing’ with ‘the only thing.’ And that, Doctor, is exhausting."

My honesty often surprised people, but Will seemed to appreciate the lack of sugarcoating. He took a hesitant step closer. "You see a lot, Y/N."

"It’s my job," I whispered. "And I like what I see."

The subtle shift in the atmosphere was immediate. The playful antagonism melted into something much warmer, something like mutual appreciation hovering right at the edge of October romance.

"Good," he said softly, reaching out to gently touch the silver key pendant I always wore. "Because I’m having trouble focusing on my notes, and I think I need to start seeing less of the psychologist in the barista, and more of the woman who makes me forget I’ve been on my feet for sixteen hours."

The next week, the weather turned cold. The sort of biting Chicago cold that demands layers and hot drinks. Will stopped pretending his visits were purely professional. He announced one Tuesday, pulling on a thick tweed coat over his civilian clothes. He had just come off a brutal day of arguing his way through a tricky patient transfer. "I need to walk. The air conditioning in the hospital is driving me crazy. Come with me?"

I didn't hesitate. I grabbed my navy wool coat and locked the front door, the ‘CLOSED’ sign swinging gently behind us. The air was crisp and clean, smelling faintly of distant woodsmoke. We walked down a quiet, leafy street lined with brownstones, the sound of our footsteps echoing softly on the pavement.

"I had a patient today," Will began, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. "A kid. Routine appendectomy, but there were unforeseen complications. It wasn’t my fault, but I feel like it was. Like I should have seen it."

"Will," I said, reaching out instinctively and placing my hand lightly on his arm, slowing his hurried pace. "You can be committed, and you can be empathetic, but you can’t be omniscient. You’re a doctor, not God, no matter how much you wish you were."

He stopped walking entirely, turning to face me. The streetlamp cast a golden halo around his red hair. "It’s not that I want to be God, Y/N, It’s that when I lose, someone suffers. If I push harder, if I break the rule, if I just take the risk, maybe the outcome changes."

I stepped closer, the cold air making me shiver a little. "But you can’t shoulder the weight of every possible failure, Will. That's how you break. My studies tell me what you need isn't more intensity; it's grounding. It’s remembering where your control ends." I gently took his hand, weaving my fingers through his. His hand was warm and calloused, a sharp contrast to mine.

"Tell me about the book club," he said, suddenly changing the subject, squeezing my hand tightly. "What are we reading next?"

"The collection of ghost stories," I confirmed, walking on, pulling him gently beside me. "About the things we see that aren’t really there. The things fear makes us project."

"Less clinical psychology, more supernatural delusion?"

"Perhaps," I murmured, leaning slightly into his side, enjoying the solid anchor of his presence. "Or maybe just a reminder that not everything in life can be fixed with skill and a scalpel. Some things just need acceptance."

We walked in comfortable silence for a block, the sounds of the distant city traffic muffled by the intervening houses. The leaves crunched under our feet, a perfect, satisfying autumn sound.

"You’re good for me, Y/N," Will finally said, stopping us again, turning my hand over in his. "You make me stop thinking about hospital policy and start thinking about whether I’m holding your attention long enough."

"You are," I assured him, feeling a flush creep up my neck despite the cold. "You absolutely have my attention, Dr. Halstead."

He shifted his grip, pulling my hand to his chest, right over the steady, powerful rhythm of his heart. The intense blue of his eyes softened completely, losing the war-zone look that usually defined them.

"Then maybe," he suggested, leaning in until the crisp scent of his coat and the faint, residual hospital smell mixed with the autumn air, "we should stop talking about psychological theory and start practicing some experimental learning."

And then he kissed me. It wasn't rushed or impulsive; it was warm, careful, and deeply felt. A kiss that promised a future far cozier than any café I could design, and a connection strong enough to weather the storms of the impulsive doctor and the insightful psychology student.

It sounded like an innocent enough date when Jay had asked if you wanted to go watch the game. You hadn't been dating for long, and every day felt a little unreal in a ‘I can’t believe Jay Halstead wants to go out with me’ kind of way, and you appreciated every opportunity you got to spend with Jay especially since you never knew if he would have to go undercover or spend nights at the district trying to clear a case.

But now that the game was approaching, you were in a bit of a panic.

You enjoyed watching a game, but you didn’t always know what you were watching or doing, and you weren’t sure you were ready to let Jay see that side of you.

“Y/N, everything okay?” Kelly’s voice interrupted your internalized panic and you glanced up.

“Ah, I should have thought of you!” You proclaimed, earning yourself an eyebrow raise from the squad lieutenant. “I need your help.”

Kelly raised an eyebrow but chuckled before nodding toward his office.

You thanked all the stars that it was a quieter shift. After all, an entirely quiet shift didn’t exist at Firehouse 51. But at least that’s the way you liked it.

Kelly gave you a crash course, but not without reminding you that you owed him one. You spent the rest of the downtime studying it so that at least you’d have something smart to say, even though there were a few times you wondered what the hell you were doing.

Hard work indeed paid off.

You walked out of the game, feeling a little embarrassed as Jay’s friends gushed over you.

“Jay, you got a good one. My girlfriend doesn’t even want to come to games with me.” One of his buddies quipped.

Jay laughed, putting an arm around you and grinning. “Hey, should I be worried? What if you guys just call her for the games instead?”

The laughter rumbled through the group as they all nodded, teasing Jay that they’d rather call you instead of him in the future.

You really did owe Kelly one.

As his friends dispersed, calling that Jay had better bring you out for the next game, Jay’s phone rang.

You nodded at him, telling him he’d better take it, assuring him that you and Will wouldn’t leave him behind.

Jay took the call from Voight, glancing toward where you and Will were talking as he nodded. “Yeah, I got it. I’ll be right in.”

Jay could feel the dread in his gut, that felt just a little too much like guilt that he had to blow off again tonight even though he’d promised a nice after-game dinner and maybe some drinks and cuddling.

“This is why you don’t promise anything, Jay.” He mumbled to himself, before he walked back toward the both of you.

“Hey, Y/N, I…”

You glanced at the look on Jay’s face and just smiled. “Gotcha.”

“Sorry.” Jay couldn’t even say anything more because everything else in his head sounded like an excuse.

“I’m not saying I’m not disappointed, because I kinda am. But I get it. And if these were bells going off for the ambulance, I’d do the same thing you’re doing now. So, go.” You paused. “But you owe me a mind-blowing date.”

Jay laughed and nodded. “That, I definitely do.”

You shot him a huge smile and headed off toward Jay’s truck to wait because you knew he’d at least take you home before heading back down to wherever he was supposed to go.

Will watched the exchange with a mix of amusement and awe before he glanced at his younger brother.

“Jay?” Will called, before Jay and him headed off in different directions.

Jay glanced up at Will and Will smiled. “You better marry that girl.”

THANK YOU FOR READING!! PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU THOUGHT OF THIS!!

You always hated driving at night and in the rain, but both at the same time was a nightmare. It wasn't just rain now, sleet came down so hard and fast your wipers hardly had time to keep up. Driving in these conditions was dangerous, even for experienced drivers. So you slowed down, turned down the music and tried to limit the distractions. If you crashed Will's car he would never let you drive ever again.

Even with the wipers at full speed and your high beam lights on, the sleet made it near impossible to see. There was no one else on the road, at least, not in front of you. There was an SUV behind you in the left lane, you caught glimpses of its shape through the sleet every now and again. They were going much faster than you were, steadily becoming a larger shadow in your mirror. Eventually, you could see their lights fully in your mirrors. You let out a grumble as you realized they too had their high beams on. Flipping the tab on your rearview mirror didn't change the fact the wing mirrors were blinding you too.

"What on earth," You groaned, the only other car on the road, the only one you had seen in the last 20 minutes was burning holes in your eyes.

Everything changed so quickly. The SUV was speeding up, gaining speed even against all the wind and sleet. Then the car was hydroplaning on the ice and sleet on the road, it swung out of control, swerving from their lane and into your own. You couldn't look away from the mirror, watching in horror as the car kept spinning out of control. It slammed into the side of your car, hitting hard against your door as it pushed you off the road. Both of your cars slid down a bank, only coming to a stop when there was nowhere else to go.

You could feel the seat belt cutting into your chest, you wanted to claw it away but it wouldn't budge. The glass from the now smashed window was cutting through your skin, on your face, your arm, even a few pieces had cut their way through your jeans.

The cold was what kept you conscious. It flooded into your car, breaking the bubble of warmth and ripping away any sense of comfort you had seconds earlier. You weren't sure if it was tears or blood running down your face, but either way, you tried to clear your mind. There was a first aid kit in the glove box, one Will had made, if you could reach it you could help yourself. 

You forced yourself to go through the checklist Will ingrained in you. Starting with your head, you made note of the concussion you likely had, then your neck, whiplash for sure. Your chest next, which was in pain from the seatbelt, but nothing else you could tell for now. Your left arm was broken, but that was a problem for another time. Your legs were squished, but you should move your feet and toes without any pain. That was as good as it was going to get, you had to get out of here. The longer you stay in here, with the sleet soaking through your clothes, the longer you put yourself at risk. 

With a bit of wiggling and stubbornness, you managed to unclip the seatbelt. It didn’t move much, but with it not so tight you could now push it away from you and start the process of wiggling out of your seat. You climbed over the center console, taking your time to avoid smashed glass or hurting yourself further. Once in the passenger seat, you pulled open the glove box, dragging out the kit and rummaging through it. You ripped open one of the gauze packets, pressing it to the left side of your forehead, the sting causing you to hiss. You continued anyway, forcing yourself to open the plastic package with a sling in it. You forced the knot over your neck. Sucking in a deep breath you forced yourself to move your arm into the sling, clenching your jaw in until the pain subsided. After ten minutes of breathing through the pain, you decided enough was enough. You had to move, even if you didn’t want to, you had too. 

Throwing open the door, you forced yourself out into the weather. The first aid kit stayed tucked under your arm so that you could help the other car. Walking up the incline was harder than getting out of the car, the pain from your arm and the other scrapes and bruises weighed you down. One step at a time. One foot after another. Eventually you made it to the driver's door. The windscreen was smashed, webbed cracks making it impossible to see through. You reached for the handle on the driver side, using it to steady yourself the last few steps then yanking it open. Inside, the driver was hunched over his steering wheel. 

“Hey,” You tried to shake his shoulder, but he didn’t respond, “Please, no.” 

You took a deep breath, then placed two fingers to the man's coritod, trying to calm the sound of your own heartbeat to feel the man. 

10 seconds passed. 

20.

30. 

Nothing. No Pulse. No Signs of Life. 

You pulled your hand away slowly, as if not to disturb him. 

“I’m so sorry,” You pulled away, stumbling a few steps back. 

By now, you could guess it had been almost half an hour. Half an hour in the sleet and rain, with no coat, no dry clothes. No one would be able to see you from the road, there was no barrier or break in a fence. No one could see you.  You were at risk, you knew any longer out here would kill you. You had to call for help. Forcing yourself to walk back down the slope to your car was hell. Your entire body shook, every time you took a step, your legs shook and you had to take extra time to steady yourself. When you finally got back to where you started, the passenger side door, you used your right arm to pull yourself back into the car. You had left your phone in the holder on the 

 There were no lights on in your car, nor the other one, so you had to search with light from the moon and strained eyes. You patted down the floor of the passenger side, nothing. Leaning over the console you tried the driver side. Avoiding the mangled parts was hard, no wonder your leg was scratched up and sore. Eventually your fingers found an irregularity, your phone face down on the ground. You yanked it up, pulling it to your face and trying to turn it on. With the screen facing you, you could see the damage. It was like it had been through a blender, the only intact part of the phone being your case. It was useless. A glorified paperweight. 

“Fuck!” 

40 minutes in these wet clothes. You had never been so cold in your life. It was as if there was no heat left in the world, the comfort of warmth was a fleeting memory. The aggressive shivering was making it hard to do anything, but you were more worried about what would happen when you stopped shivering. Growing up in Chicago, with a doctor brother, meant you heard all about how hypothermia could sneak up on a person. Most people didn't see it coming, didn’t know the signs. You were painfully aware of them. 

The racing heart. Tachycardia. 

The cold white fingers. Your body pulling blood from your extremities to protect your core.

Next it would be the brain fog, shock, the feeling of being overheated. There was no telling when it could strike. 

The other driver's phone. 

A lightbulb went off, literally. 

If you wanted to survive, you had to get back to the other driver. You had to fight. 

Finding the driver's phone felt like grave robbing. You could see it sitting in his cup holder. Some kind of miracle it hadn’t bounced out. You had to lean over the man to get the phone, trying not to move him or touch the blood that was staining his clothes. With the phone in hand, you gripped it with two hands to press the power button and activate the emergency call. You pressed the phone to your ear, it rang twice. 

“911, what is your emergency?” 

“I was in an accident,” You answered, “I need an ambulance.” 

“Can you tell me where you are?”

“I- I don’t know. I’m not shivering anymore. I’m not shivering.” 

Your arm dropped, phone tumbling into the snow on the ground. 

“It’s not cold anymore.” 

“Dispatch, we’re going to need a Medevac.” 

“Hey kid,” The paramedic was trying to keep you alert, “Not far from a hospital, okay?”

“It’s too hot,” You slurred, strapped to the gurney in preparation of the Medevac, covered in foil safety blankets. 

“I know, love,” The woman was so nice, her voice was so soothing. “Just hold on a little longer, yeah?” 

You could hear the sound of the helicopter approaching, a steady rhythm. It grew louder and louder. it  felt as if it was taking the rhythm from your heart, as the helicopter got louder you could feel your heart getting quieter. 

The deafening sound and the wind that came from the chopper made you feel like you were hallucinating. The whole time as you waited for help, half conscious in the snow. It was nothing much at first, shooting stars, the moon glowing brighter and brighter. Then it was Will’s voice, Jay’s humming. All the things that reminded you of warmth, of that all encompassing feeling. 

Holding onto your own consciousness was like trying to hold onto a cloud. You could just see it, sense it, but physically touching it, holding it… it was nearly impossible. 

A moment of clarity had you reeling it in, forcing your eyes open. 

Inside the chopper was just as loud. But more hectic. A symphony of chattering radios, yelling voices and beeping machines. 

“My brother,” You croaked. 

“Don’t speak, kid,” The Medevac paramedic was a different man, older than the paramedic from before. He looked like a dad. 

“My brother, Doctor Halstead… Chicago Med.” 

The man's face was out of focus, but you could see the realization on it. He knew what you were asking. 

He turned to the other body in the back of the shopper, the one that was just a blur of blue shapes, “Get him on the radio now.” 

He looked back at you, “What’s your name kid?” 

You whispered it back to him, voice raw and mouth dry. You felt like you were drenched in sweat. Everything was burning. The clouds in your mind were getting further and further away, but you forced yourself to hold tight to consciousness. You needed to talk to Will. You had to talk to him. 

“My name's Tom,” The paramedic was placing headphones over your ears, adjusting the mic so that your voice might reach it, “I’ve got you, alright, kid? Just take it easy.” 

The other person was speaking, explaining something. You could hear the bass of his voice through the headphones, like he was speaking inside your head. But he might as well have been speaking another language, because nothing he said made any sense. Your eyes were so tired, burning from the lights inside the chopper, even though you knew they were as low as they could go. Light flares made it impossible to focus, everything blending and swirling in a sickening live painting. Nothing was peaking through those clouds now. They were dark, cold, and sinister. The ones that roll through right before a thunderstorm, before everything went haywire. 

But then there was sun, a beam of warmth that basked you in calmness. 

“Hey, sweetheart.” Will. The warmth that kept you safe. 

If you had been in your right state of mind, you would be able to hear the strain in his voice, the pure anguish. But you didn’t. All your brain could comprehend was that he was there. 

“I love you,” You whispered, not sure if it would be heard. 

Tom repeated your words, mumbling something about numbers or stats dropping. 

“I love you too.” Will replied, “I love you so much. I will always-” 

Will cleared his throat, it registered somewhere in the very back of your mind now. He was crying. 

“I will love you, forever. No matter what happens, sweetheart.” 

Will didn’t call you sweetheart anymore. It was always squirt. Sweetheart was what he called you as a child, the nickname that fizzled out when you turned 10 and having a hovering older brother was embarrassing. Again, that feeling of warmth returned. The feeling of lying in the sun after a swim, letting it dry you and warm you slowly. It was calm, gentle, nurturing. The warmth that made plants grow and flowers bloom. That you had spent your whole life with. Will was the sun in your family. Warm, nurturing and oh so loving. Always there, reliable and steady. If Will was the sun, then Jay was the moon. That Light that guided you through the dark. The one that brought coolness, serenity and wiseness. Jay was the one that kept you calm. Taught you to stand on your own two feet, to fight. The moon was always there, every single night. Sometimes it hid, keeping its light hidden, but it was always watching. 

Your brothers, your lifelines. 

The steady thrum of the helicopter was growing silent. Replaced with a ringing that pulled you into a clear empty and dark sky.

There were no more clouds. There was nothing. 

Will was on the roof as soon as he got word the chopper was getting close. The fear and anxiety that ran through his blood was making it hard for him to focus. He was standing by with strict orders not to intervene. When Goodwin had heard what was happening, she had made sure WIll knew that he could not be involved in treatment at all. No matter what, he could only watch. 

“I got this, Will,” Marcel assured Will. Marcel was a brother, he knew what it was like to worry over his sister. 

“I know,” Will responded, the words meant nothing. Nothing anyone could say would stop the thumping of his heart, the fear in his veins. 

As the chopper landed, Will watched Marcel and the trauma nurses run in, a practiced team. The hand-off was smooth as it could be, then everyone was running back inside, headed to the ED. Elevator rides with patients were always slow and nerve racking, now was no different. The Helipad was only a few floors above the ED, the distance was hardly far enough to feel as long as it was. 

“Baghdad's free” Maggie called as they barrelled into the ED. Marcel started barking orders, calling stats, medications. Will had done the routine before, thousands of times. Now, watching from outside the room,everything felt foreign and new. 

Marcel and Trinny cut off your damp clothes, replacing them with warm blankets and heat packs. 

“Temp check?” 

“61.2. Heart rates dropping. 62, 56, 43…” 

Maggie grabbed Will's arm, pulling him back as the monitors flatlined. 

“Get me an amp of epi!” 

"Epi’s in.” 

“Hold compressions…” 

“No pulse.” 

“Resume compressions.”

Will looked at his watch, the minutes were ticking by. 

“Alright,” Crockett switched with Asher on compressions, taking a step back, “Temps up to 63…” 

“It’s been ten minutes,” Asher said through compressions, “Should we try ECMO?” 

Marcel turned to Will, not for permission, but to see if he was following. THe face that Marcel saw was full of hopelessness. This wasn’t Will Halstead the ED Doc, it was Will Halstead the big brother. 

“Maggie?” 

“On it, Marcel,” Maggie stepped away from Will barking her own orders at nurses. 

How is this happening? 

Nothing else could take up space in WIll’s mind. Why was this happening? 

This morning when you had left, you showed Will the weather forecast, telling him it would be cold and rainy, that you would take your time and go slow. He knew you would too. You hated driving in the rain, so you were always alert. 

This morning, you had dropped him at work and yelled out the window, “Don’t kill anyone!” Before cackling and driving away.

You were so full of life when he last saw you. 

Now all he saw was a limp body that shared your face. 

“Will?” Jay's voice from across the ED. 

Will wasn’t just your big brother. He was Jay's too. At that moment, he knew Jay needed him. 

Will stepped away from the treatment room, intercepting Jay before he could get too close. 

“Listen to me,” Will pulled him aside, grabbing his shoulders, “You don’t want to see her right now. Marcel and Asher are working on her, they have it handled.” Lies. They were lies, or half-truths, either way, Will didn’t believe them. 

“How did this happen?” 

The Halstead brothers didn’t cry much, but now the both of them were tearing up. The fear of losing the light of their lives was weighing them both down. 

“That’s not important right now,” Will forced himself to say, “Right now, all that matters is she is getting treatment.” 

Jay nodded, he pulled out of Will’s grasp and turned to Hailey. She had watched the whole exchange, but Will hadn’t seen her until now. She looked like she might cry too. The same thoughts circling in the Halstead brothers minds were circling in her own. 

“She’s strong,” Hailey croaked out, “She’ll be okay. When she wakes up, she’ll have us, and she’ll be okay.” 

Will smiled at his sister-in-law. She really meant it, her belief giving Will something tangible to hold onto. If Hailey saw the way out, he would too. 

“I got a pulse!” 

The beeping of machines never sounded so sweet. A steady even beat. 

Will hadn’t prayed in so long, but he let slip, “Thank you, God.” A silent prayer followed. 

Where there was once nothing, now there was a wide blue sky, littered with meager clouds. They weren’t the ones that looked like faces or shapes, they were so small that they almost blended into the sky. But they were there. You could see them, feel them. God help you, you were going to reach them. 

The sun was out today too, a warm glow that set the perfect temperature. A spring morning with the first blooming flowers. The moon was there too, a watery reflection against the blue. It felt so serene here. The sun was calling to you, warming you in its embrace. You chose then, this would not be your goodbye to the sun and moon. 

Opening your eyes was the hardest challenge of the day. It was harder than walking up that slope, or staying conscious in the helicopter. Your body screamed for sleep, but you were too stubborn. You had to see the sun. 

“Will, Jay, get in here.” 

A warm hand on the side of your face, another one cradling your hand so gently. 

“We’re here, sweetheart.” 

“We’re not going anywhere.”