#will halstead x reader

"If it really is just a cold, don't worry about me catching it. I'm probably immune at this point. And if it's not a cold, then you need someone to take care of you."

"Immune to the common cold huh? How's that med school education now?" You countered his clearly otherwise flawless logic.

"Do I get to do my job and take care of my boyfriend or not?"

He didn't try to refute you, instead pivoting to pity, asking that question with such a sad tone and turning his sad brown eyes on you. It was really rude of him to use those against you in this moment right now.

"Fine," He would argue you this until you gave up anyway so there was no reason to resist it. Besides, having Will dote on you certainly wasn't the worst thing that could happen. You could find ways to make this work in your favor.

Will smiled, clearly proud of having won. He pressed the back of his hand to your forehead, checking for a fever. He moved his hand from one cheek to the other just to confirm you didn't feel too warm.

You wanted to gloat about not having a fever but held it back.

"Well, no fever so that's a good sign." Will said, moving his hands down to your neck and pressing below your jaw to see if your lymph nodes were swollen. You coughed a little as he prodded.

"Need some water?" He offered, picking up your glass from the coffee table and passing it to you. You took it and took a few small sips, clearing some of the dryness from your throat.

"Okay," he said, leaning back while you sunk a little further into the couch, "tell me honestly. How do you feel?"

Well, truthfully, you didn't feel great. it was just a cold but that didn't mean it was fun.

"My head kinda hurts," you admitted, "and my throat's kinda sore and dry. I feel just kinda bleh."

"Hmmm, 'bleh.' Very common symptom, I've seen it before." He teased. You rolled your eyes. "I have a couple courses of treatment we can try."

On that note, he stood up and disappeared into the bedroom. You waited, curious as to what his multiple courses of treatment could be.

You didn't have to wait long to find out. He returned with your favorite blanket from the closet, a bottle of ibuprofen, and a box of tissues. He set the pills and tissues on the table and then dropped the blanket into your lap before leaving once again, this time toward the kitchen.

"What sounds good?" He asked, looking over bar to you, able to really only see your head and part of your face as you had rearranged the blanket to your liking.

"Something warm and soft. Is it silly to ask for mac n cheese?" It was just the kind of comfort food you needed today.

"Not at all." Will said with a smile. "Mac n cheese coming right up."

And he once again walked away. Normally you would complain about him walking away from you so much but frankly you didn't have your heart in it, especially since he was making you food. And if you really wanted, you could see him in the kitchen from the couch if you were willing to change your position at all. But, you weren't. And you could hear him moving around so that was good enough.

He returned once the water was boiling on the stove for the noodles.

"Do you want to watch something?" He offered.

It was tempting, but honestly you weren't sure you wanted to watch anything. The 'bleh' you had described earlier carried into your brain and even brainless shows didn't sound good.

"No, I'm okay just sitting here with you."

Will nodded and sat down next to you. You leaned against him and sniffed a little. He offered you a tissue and leaned a little bit back against you.

You didn't think you'd been sitting that long, just enjoying his comfortable presence, before the timer went off and he had to get up and go back to the kitchen to finish making you food. He came back with a warm bowl and handed it to you.

"You're a lifesaver," you said.

"Every day." Will replied and you chuckled a little as you took your first bite. It was exactly what you wanted in the moment.

After eating, you leaned into Will again.

"Do you need some water?" He offered.

"Hmmm no," you said, even though a small part of you knew you probably should hydrate, and that Will would say so. But you didn't want to move, nor did you want him to move.

"Hydration helps, you know."

Called it.

"Uh huh," you mumbled, feeling a wave of drowsiness hit you. Warm food in you, settled in with Will on the couch, suffice to say you were content.

"I can go get you a glass of water," Will offered.

"Nah," you replied, slipping down and leaning more into Will.

He thought about pressing you on it but decided to let it go for the moment.

You rested your head on his shoulder and intended to just close your eyes and rest for a moment.

"What about some fruit, you know Vitamin C-" Will began. He stopped midsentence and listened to your breathing. It was decidedly asleep breathing. He looked at you, leaned into his side, head on his shoulder and smiled. Maybe he could turn off doctor mode for a little while, at least while you slept. After all, it would be mean and frankly unhelpful for him to disturb you, your body needed the rest to heal.

This was your first winter in Chicago and only your fifth month in the city. Five months ago you were working at Gaffney under a temporary contract, as a traveling resident. Three months after that, when your contract ended, Goodwin offered you a job that you had (foolishly or not) decided not to turn down. You hadn't regretted that decision until now, at the near height of winter, hands freezing against the wheels of your chair, heading to what would be a 24-hr shift. You'd had 24-hr shifts before, they weren't anything you couldn't handle, but the weather was making it far less bearable. 

Today, in these conditions, it was a miracle that you made it to Gaffney in one piece and on time. Maggie was at the front desk already, directing ED traffic that you knew wouldn't let up even in the worst of the storm. She offered a wave as she assigned Doris a room and you nodded in hello. 

"Guess I got lucky," Will said by way of a greeting, falling into step beside your wheelchair as you headed for the doctor's lounge. 

"Why's that?" you asked, glancing up at him. 

"You're on my shift," he replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He pushed the door to the lounge open for you and then followed you inside.

"Am I on your shift or are you on mine?" You asked.

"Oh, you're on mine. I do have senority," he joked.

"Senority maybe, but Goodwin liked me so much that she asked me to stay in Chicago," you pointed out, hanging your jacket up in the cubby next to Will's. 

"Yeah but you and I both know why you said yes," he teased, leaning down to give you a kiss. 

As much as you wanted to deny it, Will was very right. This thing between you two was as yet undefined as anything more than dating. You couldn't really call him your boyfriend or your partner but his presence in your life was a major factor in deciding that Chicago, and Gaffney, was where you wanted to put down some roots. 

"I knew you followed me in here for something," you joked, "I should've known it wasn't just to gloat."

"You must have me confused with someone else," Will replied, "I never gloat." 

Before you could respond his phone buzzed, an alert from Maggie that there was an incoming ambulance. Will hesitated for a moment, just looking at the phone and not rushing out the way he typically would. Finally, after a minute, he looked up at you, "I've got a patient but, I need to talk to you before your shift ends."

"I'm here 24 hours so," you shrugged a shoulder, "is everything okay?"

"Yeah, great," Will promised, leaning down and kissing you one more time.

Once you were out on the ED floor any thought of what Will wanted to talk about was out of your head. That was always the benefit of working in an enviroment like this; there was no time to let your mind wander to worst case scenerios that might have otherwise intruded your thoughts. Instead, all you had to worry about or focus on was what was happening in the moment. 

From hours one to twelve the ED demanded your entire attention. Even at times when you and Will crossed paths with patients there was no time to think about what he might want to talk to you about. Not that you were any unusual amount of worried that he could have something bad to say, he hadn't seemed like he had something bad to say, but you still wanted to know what it was and in the moments between waiting for patients you found yourself wondering what exactly it could be. 

In the midst of shift change, as those lucky enough to have not signed up to work 24-hours through a snowstorm were able to leave (although they had to commute home so maybe you were the lucky one) you realized what it was Will wanted to talk about. Or rather, who it was. 

Standing at the nurses' station, talking to Maggie and still wearing her jacket over her scrubs, was Natalie Manning. You had never actually worked with Natalie before but you'd heard a few stories, both from Will before you started dating and from Doris (who also showed you Natalie's picture and went through a chronological timeline of her relationship with Will) so you recognized her immediately. You were tempted to just keep moving passed the nurses' station but you would have to put in another 12 hours before you could go home and Natalie, presumably, was putting them in with you. 

Plus, Maggie decided for you and called you over. So you were trapped. 

"Hey, this is Natalie Manning, she used to work at Gaffney," Maggie announced when you'd made it to the desk. She introduced you to Natalie (whether to alert you to her presence at the ED or just to get whatever needed to be out in the open out there before the next twelve hours kicked in). 

"Hi," you greeted, maybe a little awkwardly. After all, there was Will's one-that-got-away and you were just trying to move yourself out of situationship (though breaking up with you didn't seem to be the thing he wanted to talk about). "I've heard wonderful things about you, it's so nice to finally meet you."

"It's nice to meet you too," Natalie smiled, all effervesent and happy. "Maggie said you just started here?"

"Yeah, a few months ago. I was doing travel work and then, decided to stay in Chicago." Which was starting to feel like a bad idea or a rush to judgement. 

"Nat." Will's voice sounded behind you, more alarmed than surprised. He felt like a deer caught in headlights. Goodwin had told him that Natalie was starting back at Med today, her first shift on was the last twelve hours of his shift and Goodwin was being curteous by letting him know. And Will had meant to let you know, had gone in to the doctor's lounge with you to tell you that Natalie was back in Chicago but then Maggie had beeped him and your shift started and now he was standing there in the hallway of ED and Natalie was introducing herself to you. 

"Will," she beamed at the sight of him, "how are you?"

"Good, great," he was right behind your chair now and you were doing your best not to turn and look at him. But then his hand came down on your shoulder and he was asking Nat if she'd met you and referring to you as his 'partner'.

"Partner?" And Natalie was repeating the word like she'd never heard it before. And you hardly look at either of them cause you knew you would look way too smug about the whole situation. 

"Yeah, if you ask Will then he'll tell you he's the reason I stayed in Chicago," you said, trying to sound as casual and nice as possible (not that you really owed Natalie anything except maybe a thanks for breaking up with Will in the first place).

"Well it's not the weather," Will replied, squeezing your shoulder once and then letting go.

"I better...go get ready for shift," Nat finally said, glancing at Maggie before heading toward the doctor's lounge as quickly as possible without looking too desperate to get away. 

"Was that the 'thing' you needed to talk about?" You asked, once she was safely out of earshot and Will had moved around your chair to face you.

"You didn't tell them?" Maggie whisper-shouted across the counter.

"I...was going to," Will insisted. He nodded for you to follow him away from the nurses' station, down the hall toward the visitor eleavtors that weren't crowded right now because of the weather outside. Once you were safely away from eavesdropping nurses and the possibility of running into Nat again, Will turned to face you. "Goodwin told me yesterday and I didn't wanna just text you about it, I wanted to talk about it so I could...explain how I'm feeling and where my head's at with her being here again."

"I'm not upset, I don't know if you read upset but I'm not, I promise. I was just surprised to see her but, we've both been busy tonight and honestly, until I saw her, I hadn't even been thinking about what you needed to talk about so," you shrugged, "no harm, no foul."

"I feel like I should feel reassured by that," Will replied, leaning back against the wall for a moment. He had been fairly honest with you about bad relationships in the past and his inability to feel like he was always communicating well or being heard for what he was actually saying. When the two of you first started dating you had told him that you appreciated confrontation and liked knowing what people were feeling. It was easy to feel like people were placating you, especially because of your disability, and you hated that feeling. So open communication was something you both worked at all the time.

"Why don't you?" 

"I do, I just...I like us. I like how I feel with you and I don't want you to feel like there is even a shred of possibility that I might see Natalie and want what I had with her because I don't. I don't wanna go back there at all. I want this, I like this. I just don't want you to not know that I didn't know how to tell you exactly," he said, pushing out a breath.

"Well, you just did and I'm not worried. I was a little worried for like, five seconds, and then it went away," you replied. "And it might come back, I don't know...but right now I'm totally okay and I also want this and like this. A lot...like staying in Chicago a lot."

"I knew it," Will smiled, "I knew it was for me."

"Yeah okay," you rolled your eyes, "and you say you don't gloat."

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.

The scent of diesel and stale coffee was as comforting to me as the lullaby of Maxon’s soft snores. Firehouse 51 had become my second home, a place of unexpected peace after years of war zones and the jarring silence that followed my medical discharge. My right leg, a constant throb gave a protesting ache as I shifted in the worn armchair. Seven months pregnant, and ‘shifting’ was an all-encompassing, often painful, endeavor.

Maxon, my loyal K-9 partner and constant shadow, lifted his head slightly, a deep, rumbling sigh escaping him before he settled back down, his fur a warm weight against my swollen belly. He was an honorary member of the house, his calm presence a balm to my often-frayed nerves, a silent guardian against the echoes of my past.

“Still got your feet up, Mallory?” Sylvie Brett’s cheerful voice cut through the quiet hum of the firehouse. She leaned against the doorframe of the common room, a mug steaming in her hands, her smile warm and genuine.

I grinned, rubbing my belly. “Trying to convince this little one that gravity is overrated. And maybe trying to convince my feet that they’re not about to explode.”

Sylvie chuckled, moving to sit on the edge of the table. “Only two more months, right? Then it’s all screaming and sleepless nights, but, you know, totally worth it.” Her eyes twinkled, a playful jab at the impending reality.

“Tell that to Will. He’s already practicing swaddling on a throw pillow,” I countered, a soft smile touching my lips. Will. My brilliant, impulsive, incredibly kind Dr. Halstead. It still felt surreal, sometimes, that the man who’d been my neighbor, then my closest friend, was now my fiancé, the father of my child, and my whole future. We were deep in wedding plans – or rather, I was, while Will tried to balance his demanding ER schedule with my increasingly elaborate Pinterest boards. Living in his spacious, albeit slightly messy, apartment, the reality of our shared life was settling in, a comforting blanket of domesticity I never thought I’d experience.

Captain Casey walked in then, a stack of reports in his hand, his gaze thoughtful. “Mallory, any update on that vendor for the new hydrants?”

“Emailed him this morning, Captain. He’s getting back to me by end of day,” I replied, my hand instinctively going to Maxon’s head. Maxon, ever vigilant, lifted his head again, his ears twitching towards the bay doors. His low growl, barely audible, sent a prickle of unease down my spine. Maxon didn't growl without reason.

“What is it, boy?” I murmured, my gaze following his.

Just then, the bay doors swung open, and a figure strode in, his posture rigid, his eyes scanning the room with an intensity that could only belong to one person. Jay Halstead. Will’s younger brother. Detective Halstead, to most. To me, a man whose presence usually signaled trouble, or at the very least, a heavy conversation.

Jay spotted me, and his expression, already tight, hardened further. He barely spared a glance for Casey or Sylvie before his stride brought him directly to me. Maxon rose to his full height, a low, guttural warning rumbling in his chest, his hackles slightly raised.

“Maxon, easy,” I commanded, but my voice was tinged with apprehension. “Jay, what are you doing here? Is everything okay?” My mind immediately jumped to Will. Had something happened at Med? Was he hurt?

Jay ignored the dog, his eyes locked on mine, a dark storm brewing in their depths. “We need to talk. Now. And not where anyone can hear.” His voice was low, clipped, and held an urgency that made my stomach clench.

Casey, ever observant, stepped forward. “Jay, is there a problem? Everything alright?”

Jay finally peeled his gaze from me, giving his usual curt nod to Casey. “No, Captain. Just… family business. Private.” He looked back at me, his jaw set. “Mallory, outside. Please.”

My heart began to pound a frantic rhythm against my ribs. Maxon leaned against my leg, a subtle anchor, his gaze never leaving Jay. I pushed myself up, my right leg protesting the sudden shift in weight, and limped past Casey and Sylvie, who exchanged worried glances. The minute I was outside, in the relative quiet of the squad bay, Jay grabbed my arm, his grip firm but not painful, guiding me further into a shadowed corner.

“What is going on, Jay?” I demanded, my voice hushed but sharp. “You’re scaring me. Is it Will?”

He let go of my arm, running a hand through his hair, his frustration palpable. “It’s about Will, yes. But he’s… he’s okay. For now.” The last two words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken dread.

“‘For now’? What does that mean?” My voice was rising, a frantic edge to it. Maxon nudged my hand, sensing my distress.

Jay leaned closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Mallory, I wouldn’t be here if this wasn’t critical. You need to listen to me, and you can’t tell anyone. Especially not Will.” He looked around, as if expecting shadows to harbor eavesdroppers. “There’s a man. Ray Burke. A very bad man. He’s into everything – drugs, extortion, violence. We’ve been trying to nail him for months.”

My brow furrowed. “Okay… so what does this have to do with Will?” A cold knot began to form in my gut.

“Will… Will got involved,” Jay said, his voice laced with a mixture of anger and concern. “He went undercover for me. He’s been working with Burke, trying to get us the evidence we need to put him away for good.”

The air left my lungs in a whoosh. My mind reeled. Undercover? Will? My Will? The kind, slightly bumbling doctor who wore his heart on his sleeve and couldn’t lie to save his life, let alone convincingly pretend to be part of a criminal organization? And he hadn’t told me?

“What are you talking about?” I whispered, the words barely audible. “Jay, this isn’t funny. Will would never do something like that without telling me. We’re… we’re engaged. We’re having a baby.” The betrayal, the sheer audacity of it, hit me with a physical force.

Jay’s gaze softened, a hint of the protective older brother shining through his tough cop exterior. “I know, Mallory. Believe me, I didn’t want him to either. I tried to talk him out of it. But once he gets an idea in his head, you know how he is. He saw a chance to help, to do some good, and he jumped. He’s been… he’s been working with Burke for weeks.”

Weeks? Weeks? My world, which had been so perfectly aligned just moments ago, spun violently off its axis. All the late nights, the vague excuses, the times he’d been unreachable – it wasn't just the ER. It was… this.

“He’s in deep, Mallory,” Jay continued, oblivious to the cracks appearing in my composure. “Too deep. We’re close to making an arrest, but Burke is unpredictable. The guy is dangerous. He’s killed before. If he finds out Will is a plant…” Jay trailed off, the unspoken threat chilling me to the bone. “I just needed you to know, in case something happens. So you understand.”

Understand? All I understood was that my fiancé, the man I was building a life with, was risking everything – our everything – without so much as a word. A wave of nausea washed over me, stronger than any morning sickness I’d experienced. My breath hitched.

“Why are you telling me this now?” I choked out, a cold dread seeping into my veins. “After weeks? Why not before? Why didn’t he tell me?”

Jay’s face was etched with guilt and desperation. “He couldn’t. He said it would put you in danger, make it harder to pretend. And I’m telling you now because… because things are escalating. We think Burke is getting suspicious. We’re moving in soon, but there’s no guarantee.”

No guarantee. The words echoed in my mind, each one a hammer blow. No guarantee that Will would come home. No guarantee for our baby. Maxon whined softly, pressing harder against my leg, his head turning to look at my face with worried eyes.

A sharp, searing pain ripped through my lower abdomen, making me gasp. I instinctively clutched my belly, my knuckles white. This was different. Sharper. More intense.

“Mallory? What’s wrong?” Jay’s voice was suddenly frantic, his detective stoicism cracking.

Another contraction hit, harder this time, stealing my breath. My vision blurred at the edges. The world tilted. My right leg, already aching, felt like it was giving out. I swayed, reaching for the wall to steady myself. Maxon let out a short, distressed bark, circling my legs.

“I… I don’t…” The words caught in my throat, replaced by a guttural moan as a wave of agony washed over me. It felt like my insides were being torn apart.

Inside, Sylvie and Casey, alerted by Maxon’s bark and Jay’s raised voice, were already rushing towards us.

“Mallory!” Sylvie cried out, her eyes widening in alarm as she took in my ashen face, my trembling body, the desperate grip on my belly.

“I think…” I gasped, the pain tightening its hold. “I think the baby’s coming.”

“Another round?” Jay asked.

“Actually, I think I’m heading out. I’m beat and Kelly wanted to get breakfast after shift tomorrow.” You stood from the table you’d been sharing with your brothers for the last several hours.

“Lame. But, fine.” Jay stood and pulled you into a hug. “You good to drive?”

You laughed. “I haven’t had a drink in over two hours, Detective. I think your observational skills might need a little work.”

He wrapped his arm around your neck in a headlock. “Smart ass. Being too tired to drive is also a thing.”

“Yes, I’m fine to drive.” You started poking him repeatedly in the ribs until he finally released you. “Besides, it’s only like a twelve minute drive.”

Will got up and walked around the table to give you a hug also. “Love you, kiddo.”

“Love you guys, too. I’ll see you tomorrow night?”

“Probably,” Will answered.

“Text us when you get home,” Jay hollered after you before you could push open the heavy door of Molly’s.

You threw a thumbs up over your head as you exited.

As you parked in front of your apartment building, you reminded yourself to text them once you were inside. But as soon as you closed your door, auto-pilot took over. You dumped your keys and purse on the front table like always, then tossed your phone on your bed before heading to the bathroom. Getting ready for bed, you quickly washed your face and brushed your teeth and then threw your clothes on the floor. After putting on a comfy shirt and shorts you climbed into bed.

“Oops.” Unlocking your phone revealed two missed calls from Will and three from Jay as well as a text.

Jay: If you don’t call me back in 5 minutes I’m coming over. You chuckled as you read the message. It was from three minutes ago. You clicked the FaceTime icon for Jay.

“About time!” He answered.

“Sorry. In my head I totally texted you when I got home… but forgot to actually do it, apparently.”

He turned the phone around so you could see Will and you waved. “Glad you made it home.”

“Yup.” You waved your phone around so they could see your room. “Now I’m going to sleep. G’night.”

“Sleep tight!”

A loud bang startled you from your sleep. At first you thought it had been a nightmare, until you heard more noises. Grabbing your phone, you scurried off the bed and into the closet. You climbed in between a mountain of dirty laundry and the wall trying to make yourself as small as possible.

Opening your contacts list, you selected Jay and waited as it rang.

“Hey, you're supposed to be sleeping,” he teased as he answered the phone. It took you a moment to collect your thoughts, long enough to prompt Jay to speak again. “Hello? Did you sleep dial me?”

“S-someone is in my apartment,” you whispered, finally finding your voice.

“What?! Are you sure? Where are you? Can you get outside?” Jay peppered you with questions.

“I hear footsteps.” You took a deep breath, trying not to panic.

“Where are you?” He asked again.

“Uh, hiding in my closet.” You whispered, afraid the intruder might hear you.

“I’m coming. Just stay on the phone with me and try to be quiet.” You could hear his truck start and the tires peel out.

You nodded even though he couldn’t see you.

“Five minutes,” he told you. Then you heard him talking on his radio. “5021 George, I have an intruder at 1242 Ashland, I’m six minutes out, I need units there now.”

You heard the radio crackle before Adam spoke. “5021 Ida, I’m two minutes out from that intruder call.”

“Hear that, Y/N? Adam is almost there, okay. I’ll be right behind him.”

You heard the footsteps approaching and then enter your room. Clapping a hand over your mouth and nose, you held your breath and prayed to stay unnoticed.

Seconds later the closet door was yanked open and a flashlight beam illuminated the space. Next thing you knew you were being yanked out of the closet by your hair as you screamed. You vaguely heard Jay shouting your name from your phone as it clattered to the floor.

You kicked out, managing to connect with his knee and make him stumble.

“Fuckin’ bitch!” he roared as he lunged for you. You threw kicks and punches as best you could trying to get away from him. Eventually, you fell and he landed a hard kick to your side, knocking the air from your lungs. “I'll kill you, stupid bitch!”

You tried to kick him again but he grabbed your ankle and yanked you back towards him.

“Let her go!” You heard Adam shout before the intruder was yanked away from you.

As soon as you were free, you scurried backwards until your back hit the wall then curled your knees up to your chest and dropped your head. You were trying to make yourself small once again.

Kim finished cuffing him and Adam slowly approached you. He reached out to gently touch your shoulder causing you to flail your arms out still on edge from fighting. “No! Get off me. D-don't touch me.”

He gently grabbed your wrist to keep you from hitting him. “Hey, sweetheart. It’s just me, it’s Adam.”

You relaxed slightly, locking eyes with him but still trying to cower away from his touch. “W-Where's Jay?”

Seconds later, Jay burst through the front door as he called out for you. He slid to a stop on his knees beside you. You launched yourself into his arms. He hugged you tightly, sighing in relief that you were okay. “I got you. You’re okay.” He gently pushed you back by your shoulders so he could look at you. His eyes swept over your face, taking in the blooming bruises, the small laceration at your temple, and a split lip. “Ruzek, you call an ambo?”

“No, no, no.” You quickly protested before Adam could answer. “No ambulance. No hospital.”

“Kim did, they’re on the way,” Adam answered.

Jay shook his head. “Yeah, hospital. You gotta get checked out.”

“Please no. Just Will, please,” you begged. “And Kelly. Can you call him, please?”

“Yeah, okay,” Jay soothed. ”I’ll get him.” You heard him whisper to Adam to have the medics stand by in case Will needed them. Then he picked up his phone and dialed Kelly on speaker.

“Jay? It’s 1 am.” Kelly answered, immediately on alert.

“Hey, man,” Jay greeted. “Someone broke into Y/N’s apartment. She’s okay and we arrested the guy but she’s asking for you. Can you come over here?”

“Oh, my god. You’re sure she’s okay?”

“I'm fine,” you answered before Jay could.

“Mostly. A few bruises and pretty shaken up,” Jay explained as if you hadn't. ”Will is on his way here to check her over.”

“Okay, I have to go tell Boden and get squad taken out of service. Should I meet you guys at the hospital?” Kelly asked.

Jay sighed. “No, just head over here to her apartment. She doesn’t want to go unless Will says she has to.”

“Alright, I’ll be there as fast as I can. I'm coming, baby.” He hung up the phone.

Jay pulled you tighter against himself once more. “He will be here soon. Let’s go sit down on the couch, okay?”

Jay wrapped your blanket around your shoulders then sat down with you. Instantly burying yourself into his shoulder, you didn’t realize you were crying until Jay was shushing you. “He said he was going to—” A hash sob interrupted the thought.

“Shh, I got you. You’re okay. Just breathe.”

You weren’t sure how long you sat there, but the next thing you knew Will was sitting on your coffee table in front of you. He cautiously set his hand on your knee. “Hey, kiddo.”

Pushing yourself to sit a bit straighter, you responded simply, “Hi.”

“Can you tell me what hurts?” His eyes swept slowly over your face as he asked.

“I’m fine. Nothing really even hurts that much.”

He sighed. “You are probably still in shock. Once the adrenaline wears off, you’re going to feel it.”

He had just started to check if you had any obvious facial fractures when Kelly rushed into the apartment. “Oh, god. Sweetheart.”

Standing, you let him pull you into a tight hug. You hiccuped as you started to cry again.

He wrapped his hand around the back of your head, pulling you closer into him. “Shh, you’re okay. You’re safe now.”

After a minute, he released you, both sitting back on the couch so Will could finish. “You probably have a concussion.” He gently took your right arm in his hands. “Did you punch the guy?”

You nodded. “Uh, a couple times, I think.”

“Atta girl,” Jay muttered quietly.

“Can you make a fist?” Will asked. You did as asked. “And flatten out your hand.” Again, you did. Or at least you tried. Your pinky wasn’t quite where you knew it should be.

You watched as the three of them silently exchanged looks.

Will just nodded. “Your hand doesn’t hurt?”

Shrugging, you answered. “Uh, it’s starting to a little. But not that bad.”

“Okay, well we are going to Med,” Will told you.

“Can we not?”

Will gave you a sympathetic look. “Sorry, kiddo. Your hand is broken and—”

“Do you suddenly have x-ray vision?” You interrupted. “Maybe it’s a sprain.”

“No, you punched someone and now you can’t straighten out your pinky. Definitely broken, it’s called a boxer’s fracture,” he explained. “Hopefully, it just needs to be set and casted. We are also going to get a head CT just to be safe.”

“You said it’s just a concussion!” You whined.

“I said ‘probably, just a concussion’. But we’re getting the scan to be sure.”

“I don’t want the ambulance,” you argued.

Will rubbed your shoulder. “That’s fine. Kelly can drive you and Jay and I will follow. How’s that sound?”

You sighed and closed your eyes. “Can you do it?”

“Drive you?” Will asked.

“No. Fix my hand and the CT or whatever.”

Will shook his head. “No way Ms. Goodwin lets me treat my own sister. I will get Marcel to do it though and we will be there the whole time, okay?”

You took a deep breath to calm yourself. You knew the adrenaline in your system was crashing because everything was starting to hurt. Letting yourself settle into the safe feeling of being surrounded by Kelly and your brothers, you finally agreed. “Okay.”

“Alright. Let’s go.” Will offered you a hand to help you up off the couch.

As soon as all of you were standing, the dizziness started. It was sudden and intense. “Whoa.”

“What?” Kelly asked.

You felt yourself sway. “I'm really di–” you tried to explain as the world tilted and went dark.

“On three,” you heard someone say. “One, two, three.” You opened your eyes as you were lifted and shifted onto a bed in the ED at Med.

You heard Dr Marcel start ordering tests and Monique and Doris were on either side of you touching and moving your arms. You noticed Will, Jay, and Kelly near the door and suddenly you felt like you couldn't breathe. Your vision started to blur as your breaths came in desperate gasps. It sounded like you were in a tunnel, everything distorted and far away.

Will stepped closer and took your good hand in his, squeezing firmly. You saw his lips moving but couldn't make out the words. Then Kelly moved, he placed his hands on either side of your face forcing your focus to his eyes. You saw the tears welling along his lower lashes. “Come on baby, just breathe.” His voice broke through the haze.

“I-I-I can-can't,” you pushed out through stuttered breaths.

“Yes, you can.” He took a slow deep breath, your body naturally trying to follow suit. “Just slow, deep breaths. They don't want to have to sedate you before they assess the concussion. You're safe, I promise.”

You finally managed to slow your breathing and nod. “I'm safe,” you repeated.

Kelly smiled before kissing your forehead. “Doris is just going to check your vitals and Monique is going to start an IV. You know them both, right?”

You nodded. “Okay.”

You managed to stay calm for the next hour as you were poked and prodded, x-rayed, rolled upstairs for a CT scan, and asked what felt like a million questions about what had happened. Kelly sat by your side, holding your hand, for most of that time while your brothers stood nearby but out of the way.

By the time they were done running tests and resetting your hand, you were beyond exhausted. But you couldn't sleep. Every time you closed your eyes you saw his face and jolted awake.

Will and Dr Marcel were standing near the light board talking before they turned their attention back to you. “No facial fractures or broken ribs and only a mild concussion.” Dr Marcel explained. “I know you're probably tired. You can go ahead and get some rest. We will move you upstairs just for observation until tomorrow.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, you just wanted to go to Kelly’s loft where he could hold you in bed and hopefully you'd finally fall asleep. “Can't I go home? Kelly knows what to watch for.” You weren't above begging.

Dr Marcel shook his head. “Just tonight to be safe.” Will nodded his agreement and you felt a tear slide down your face.

Kelly wiped it away quickly. “It's just one night, sweetheart. Barely. It's already after 3 am.”

“I know. But I just want you to hold me,” a sob broke free with the last word. “I keep seeing h-him. I can't fall asleep.”

Quicker than you could process, Kelly released the side rail on the bed and shifted in beside you carefully. He pulled you into his chest and peppered kisses across the top of your head. “I can still do that. I'm right here.”

Will came in the door with Monique close behind. You hadn't even noticed him leaving. Monique quickly flushed your IV before pushing medication through the line. “Just something to help you sleep,” Will explained. “Tomorrow you can talk to Dr Charles and he can help. Deal?”

Your eyelids fluttered closed moments later. “Mmhmm,” you mumbled. “Deal.”

When you woke, the sun was bright through the window. You realized immediately that you weren't in the ED anymore. Kelly was in a chair on your left with his head rested beside your leg on the bed, fast asleep. Jay sat in a chair on your right, scrolling on his phone. And Will was pacing between the door and the foot of your bed.

You took a deep breath and shifted slightly causing pain to shoot through every bruise and sore muscle. “Owww,” you whined, alerting your brothers that you were awake.

Will was beside you in a flash. “What hurts?”

You winced. “Might be quicker to tell you what doesn't.”

He ran his fingers softly over the top of your head. “I'll go get you another dose of morphine, okay?”

“Yes, please.” You agreed as he headed out of the room.

You lifted your hand and dropped it on Kelly’s head, startling him awake. “Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted.

Will came back and pushed the meds. The pain dwindled almost instantly. “You ready to get out of here?”

You nodded eagerly.

“Marcel is signing your discharge papers as we speak so we can head out here soon,” Will explained.

“I don't want to go back to my apartment,” you told them.

Kelly shook his head. “You can't anyway. You're coming home with me.”

You shook your head and he frowned. “No, I mean… I don't think I ever want to go back.”

Kelly chuckled. “Do you want to move in with me?”

“I don't want to just because I'm afraid to go back to mine. I don't want to rush into that if you're not ready.”

“I'm ready. We're ready,” he started. “I was planning to ask you before your lease renewed anyway.”

You smiled. “Maybe I should thank that creep for making this happen early.”

“That's not funny,” Jay chimed in.

“I agree,” Kelly added. “I'm just glad you're okay.”

“Us, too,” Will said. “I never want to see you in here again.

"Not even to have lunch with my favorite brother?" you asked.

"Hey!" Jay protested. "I'm right here."

"Smart ass," Will rolled his eyes. "You know that's not what I meant."