Bella

It had been quiet at first, moving in silence as you were trained to do, communicating via hand signals as per protocol. Then there had been a commotion from another end of the warehouse you were in, and you were certain Detective Arnold had relayed to you that there were assailants in his line of sight. In turn, you had told Voight to stay put, which had turned out to be a costly ‘error’, the assailants had moved in from elsewhere and got to Hank before you could intervene.

Rushing forward with your gun aimed, you announced your office and demanded the offenders back up and away from Hank. It was hard to get a shot off when they were crowded around Hank still, instead you had to make the choice to engage in hand-to-hand combat.

You took several punches to the face, every flying fist and foot felt harder than the previous. You felt several sharp stings of something in your side, but between adrenaline and the rapid blur of pandemonium, you had no time to inspect what the stinging was. Mercifully your altercation distracted a few of the other offenders from Hank, giving the rest of Intelligence enough time to assist.

It was over in a matter of minutes, you then honed in on a wounded and barely conscious Voight. He was curled up on the ground in a protective position. Hank had taken two rounds to his shoulder and neck, receiving a beating that left him with traumatic injuries to his torso and leg. 

It had been jarring to see him, a mentor of yours and someone who sometimes seemed invincible, so weak and almost beyond help. Hank had tried to speak but you had hushed him, with a trembling voice you had asked him to conserve his energy as you applied pressure to one of his wounds whilst Kim had pressed on another. 

Now, as you sit slumped in Jay’s truck, blood soaking into his seat, it strikes you that you might never know what Voight was trying to say. You feel your stomach twist, and your heartbeat pounds relentlessly in your ears.

You had been ushered away from the scene in the warehouse by Jay and Hailey, they had told you to stay put on a concrete block that acted as a bench in the parking lot - you felt like an admonished child.

Nobody really asked if you were okay or what happened beyond the cliff notes of where you were when the group had jumped Hank. Vague memories of you trying to explain yourself flitter across your mind, your team had looked at you with a sense of betrayal, they couldn’t believe you’d messed up that bad.

Without Voight being conscious to give his version of events, it was a simple “He said, she said” situation, and again you didn’t much feel like trying to argue your innocence with the team. The words had repeatedly died in your mouth, you couldn’t speak when you knew Voight was most likely in emergency surgery fighting for his life - it seemed somewhat of a low priority, even if it meant you were being frozen out.

As you were sitting on the concrete block, you directed your watchful eye away from the crime scene and across the parking lot. There you met Detective Arnold’s eyes; you stood and watched as he spoke to Adam, heart in your mouth as your friend glanced in your direction with a dismayed expression, one of blame. 

You had blood all over your clothes, hands and wrists covered in Hank’s blood, the smell of flesh and rust was pungent, you had done everything you could to ensure your sergeant’s safety and yet. You somehow felt wrong trying to impress that point upon the team whilst the ambulance had barely loaded Hank’s struggling form on board.

Arnold was assigned from homicide to liaise with Intelligence’s active pursuit of multiple offenders, they were suspected of a string of rip jobs that had managed to kill civilians in the process. Something hadn’t been quite right with him throughout the investigation, but you hadn’t been able to put your finger on it, not enough to raise questions about a senior officer. Nor had you been able to catch him in the midst of anything untoward. 

However, in the cold air of night, with your team far away from you, it felt all too clear to you that Arnold had somehow set Intelligence up to fail.

Was he in on the rips? Was he covering for an informant? Did he just have it out for Hank? Hank having beef wasn't an uncommon occurrence, few led to an attempted murder though. 

These were the questions that swirled in a discombobulating fog in your head, you would need to get back to the district soon and get serious about proving your theory.

20 minutes later after all hell had broken loose, and with one of Jay’s cold stares, you were given a flat-toned instruction to “get in the truck”. You did as you were told, all rebuttals of wrongdoing long since dead on your lips. There would be time for that clarification later. 

Nobody looked twice at you as they got in their cars, and nobody even stopped to check whether the blood sticking to you was all of Hank’s or whether it was some of yours, your face was bruised and swollen but it came second to all that had passed. You could understand that, your self-doubt and guilt had begun to fester, you decided to draw no attention to your injury, and you didn’t begrudge your team’s lack of concern anymore. 

You thought of the hellfire that would rain down on you should Hank not make it, which only served to make you curl in a little tighter on yourself in the back of Jay’s truck. You bit back a moan as you felt the sharp, hot, waves of pain in your lower back, the sensation burned like acid and you wanted to cry - with the adrenaline gone, you realised you had been stabbed earlier.

You take careful and quiet breaths as you hold yourself together - the longer time passed, the more awkward it felt to declare the problem. It was like there was no room to make a fuss now, and you were sure you could patch it up when you got home, whenever that was. 

Watching the city lights pass with burning, exhausted, eyes as the entrance sign for Med comes into view. You try and sit up a little more, grateful for the darkness to conceal your contorted face of pain. Up ahead you could see the others were waiting outside, Jay and Hailey were essentially the leaders of Intelligence right now.

-

Jay kills the engine and immediately exits the vehicle, Hailey is quick to follow as they start walking in the direction of the others. You are slower to get out, thankful that you were on the other side of the truck to be concealed from view, gritting your teeth as you gracelessly slip out and stumble onto the concrete, just about staying on your feet.

“Y/L/N, you coming?” Kevin’s footsteps approach as he calls out, you quickly shut the door and upright yourself, coming around to the front of the truck as you meet his eyes with a tight smile.

“Yeah, Kev. I’m coming.” Your voice is quiet, he looks as if he’s going to wait but you wave him off with another weary smile. “Go on, go ahead, I’ll catch up.” He hesitates like he’s about to say something else, but then he nods wordlessly and moves back towards the group, leaving you to trail behind.

You hear the click and see the flash of light as Jay locks the truck with his key fob, never looking back in your direction.

It made your chest ache, to have the scorn of your teammates, your friends… In particular, you and Jay had become close, good friends. He often felt like a brother to you, but you understood his need to be impartial right now.

You watch as your friends disappear into the building, no doubt to find out which surgical floor Hank had been taken to.

You’re about to enter through the automatic doors when Jay comes back around a corner, heading towards you. He doesn’t look any more forgiving than he had moments ago, eyeing you briefly before nodding in the opposite direction towards the direction of the ED.

“You gonna see someone for the face? You should get cleaned up.” He waits for an answer, only the need for practicality could be heard in his voice.

You swallow, on the verge of caving and letting him know just how sick and close to passing out you felt. Before you know what you’re doing you shake your head ‘no’, a small voice in your head is screaming at you to stop being stupid, but you can’t seem to make yourself concede.

Now you had become a glutton for punishment, no longer seeing the situation as black and white as you had previously. It was like you’d convinced yourself that you deserved to be hurt, that you were the reason this had all transpired.

You pray that your voice carries, and it does, you keep yourself professional, distant from your emotions, “It’s fine, Detective. I want to be with the group.” 

Jay scrutinises you for a moment, folding his arms as if to protect himself from your pained and dishevelled appearance, remaining stoic. Then his jaw tightens, nodding, “He’s in emergency surgery, Rhodes is with him”, turning on his heels with the expectation you would keep up and follow.

And you do.

You surprise yourself with the way you’re able to keep pace, your mouth had become strangely tingly like you had pins and needles on your tongue, your extremities had begun to feel intensely cold, and your feet felt leaden with each confident stride you managed to make. You were under no illusions that something was very wrong, you think the tingling just may well be the undercurrent of a panic attack.

Jay stares at the door in the elevator, never once speaking or turning to engage with you, you know this because if he had looked at you he may well have seen the way you shivered, wincing under the bright lights above, blood slowly dripping from your shirt in thick globules onto the rubber floor beneath your feet - your tac vest had done a considerable job of stemming the flow of blood. 

When the doors open Jay is swift to flash his badge to the nurse at the station who tells him where the others had gone to wait; you can’t tell if you’re walking straight or not but the nurse mustn't spot anything too amiss as she waves you on to follow Jay with a small smile.

Once you’re in the dimly lit space of chairs, broken up by small tables with magazines strewn on them, you avoid any eye contact.

In your mind you convince yourself you’re still doing a great job of playing it cool, but now that you’d slowed, no longer trying to keep pace with Jay, you could feel the gravity of your situation. 

Your luck with evading attention was beginning to wane, Kim watched you worriedly from her seat, nudging Adam hard as if to say “Are we really doing this? Look at her.” Your steps had become a half stagger, one that only came from some kind of impairment. 

Even Jay is more tuned in to you now, really taking a look at you without the veil of anger over his eyes. Kevin is on the edge of getting to his feet, followed by Hailey who does stand.

“Y/N, are you alright?” It’s Hailey who speaks first, eyeing Jay with a pointed look. 

You snap out of your haze, attempting to acknowledge the voice that seemed far away, the voice that sounded like Hailey. 

As you look up, directing your attention to the figure standing a few feet away, you realise that your image recognition was way off, every shape had a strange haze, no longer clear to your vision. Your eyes felt hot, and your back was in agony, the tremors continued their steady quake through your ailing body. 

You were the only people in the waiting area, a seemingly quiet night on the trauma service.

When you have a hard time focusing, not even managing a full syllable of speech, Hailey moves forward to grasp your arms gently, eyes widening in alarm when you’re hot to the touch. 

“Y/N? I think you should sit down, or we should go to the ED.” The last part is directed at the others, each of them nodding as they move in with concern. Jay comes to your other side, now checking you over as Hailey holds you steady, you didn’t just have a busted-up face, that much was clear.

You try to move your mouth, but the words don’t come out. It becomes harder to get a full breath as your legs become impossibly heavy, the tingling of your limbs more extreme as an intense high-pitched whine pierces your ears.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N,” Jay exclaims, looking at Hailey with alarm as he pulls away his fingers covered in fresh, warm, blood, doing a double take of the tear in your tac vest’s material, it was clearly sodden with blood.

“This is fresh. I think she was stabbed.” 

Realisation swoops in like a sucker punch to your friends, the blissful release of the secret you’d been keeping somehow frees your mind and body, you let go of your composure. You no longer feel your legs, your weakened body sinking as you lose your balance. 

You aren’t thinking anymore, barely grasping onto consciousness as you slur your words, every breath is pained. You can see the outline of Jay and Hailey who carefully and quickly work to lay you down, sinking to their knees as they check you for more injuries. 

Voice garbled, trying to regain your eyesight on your friends, stinging tears falling from your eyes, clutching loosely at Jay’s arm as you cry out in pain, “So-rry, sor-rry…” 

“Shh, no, no, it’s okay, we’re here. We’re sorry.” Jay soothes, trying to get your vest off and get a better look at the injury. Kim kneels by your head, pushing her gilet underneath to cushion you, she soothes a hand through your hair, encouraging you to stay awake. Adam raises your feet in his lap to keep your blood pressure elevated, watching on in shock.

“Hey, can we get some help over here?” Kevin hollers, running down the short stretch of the corridor from the waiting area to the nurse’s desk.

Trembling hard, your eyes begin to flutter, darkness is all you know as your body convulses on the floor of the waiting room, and your friends try to keep you still to avoid you injuring yourself further. Two nurses and one of the surgeons come running from down the hall, quick to instruct the team on how to proceed as they tend to your seizing body, calling out for a trauma team to attend immediately. 

-

There are a few things that you’re aware of as you come closer to consciousness, the first is how cold you are, you shiver as you lay prone on what you assume is a hospital bed if the smell of the room is anything to go by. Your throat feels strange, a weird metallic taste sits just beyond your tonsils, it makes you pretty sure everything’s real and not some kind of disappointing afterlife. 

The second thing that comes to your mind is how you feel as though every nerve ending aches, most prominently in your side and lower back, where the stab wound had been. It doesn’t gripe at your body in the same way, but it still aches heavily with the occasional sting.

The third and fourth things are nausea and dry mouth, these are the things that prompt you to push your heavy eyelids open, you fight the drowsiness and shove it to the side in favour of assessing your surroundings.

Yes, you were in a hospital bed, that much was obvious as the myriad of lines and tubes protrude from your weakened body, and your heart rate beeped steadily through the monitor beside you. Another sharp sting aggravates your side, and you wince, trying to take a slow and steady breath with the aid of the mask over your face.

Under the low-lit darkness of your room, you spot someone sitting in the chair, your eyes aren’t quite focused but you are 90% certain that person was Jay.

There’s a sharp sensation in your back, not like before but present enough to make you grunt in discomfort. You reach out an unsteady hand to press the call button for someone to attend the room, not quite able to use your voice to alert Jay, not yet.

Everything hurt and you had a lot of questions about what became of you after you made it to the waiting room for Hank’s surgery.  The last thing you remembered was standing in an elevator with Jay.

A nurse entering your room wakes your watcher up, Jay sits up straight as his head snaps to your bed, scrubbing a hand over his face. In your increasing clarity, you realise that Jay now had at least a few days more beard growth on his face, giving you some indication of how long you’d been out.

“Y/N.” He murmurs, not yet moving as he lets the nurse see you first. You give him a weak wave of fingers, an upturn of your lips that you hope qualified as a smile.

You tear your eyes away from Jay, focusing on the kind-faced nurse in front of you who is taking note of your vitals and readings. “Hey, hon, how are you feeling?”

You blink, swallowing against the dryness of your mouth as you try and take the mask away. The nurse gently puts it back, shaking her head. “It’s alright, I can understand you from underneath the mask, you need to keep it on, darlin’.” 

Your eyes droop, and you nod, grateful that you wouldn’t have to forgo the ease of the mask just yet. The nurse patiently waits for you to tell her how you’re doing, you slowly roll your head around your neck, trying to ease the ache there even if it does make you a little dizzy.

“M’cold, thirsty and it kinda hurts.” You stated. The nurse smiles sympathetically, nodding in understanding. 

There’s an urge to sit up a little more in the bed, but you realise your limbs are way too heavy for even an attempt. So you let out a small sigh, noticing the deep muscular ache all the more, beneath the blanket you could feel a contraption on your legs squeezing - you'd heard about them, they were there to keep your blood flowing back to your heart whilst you were recovering. 

“We can sort that out, hon, no worries at all. Let me get you another blanket in just a moment. You’re currently on IV fluids, but I can give you some damp swabs for your lips, to help get rid of the dry sensation in your mouth. We can up your painkillers now too, that’s not a problem, alright? Whatever you need, Y/N, we can work something out.” The nurse squeezes your arm gently, reassuring you that you were in a safe and trusted space.

“Thank you so much.” You rasp, taking a moment to collect your thoughts. 

“Don’t you even mention it, it’s what I’m here for.” The nurse deflects the praise, she was sincere in her words, and you feel suitably mothered. She has you smiling a little more as she pats your leg and moves away to sort what you needed.

You’re left to the still of the room once again, seconds tick by when you remember Jay. You turn your head with sudden realisation, watching as he shakes his head with a small laugh, but the laugh is laced with…sadness?

“Hi.” You murmur, huffing through the mask, feeling your stomach taught with nerves. You had got yourself into a life-threatening position, and you had probably scared your team half to death. If they weren’t pissed before, you could understand if they were now.

“Hi.” Jay returns, moving closer with the chair as he studies you again like he had before you seized and fell unconscious. This time, however, his eyes are much softer, his expression tender and sincere, in that brotherly way you had become accustomed to. He reaches out a hand, wanting to take yours. You oblige almost instantly, the warmth of his skin heating the clamminess of yours.

“You really scared us, you know that?” Jay’s eyebrows lift in question - as if to put a sharp point on his statement. Frustration, fear and relief sculpt his face into the most furrowed of frowns. There’s a beat before he adds an extra point, “You scared me, Y/N. What were you thinking?” The tone isn’t anger or disappointment, it’s confusion and genuine anguish.

Jay’s eyes were dark with circles, no doubt exhausted from the last few days, between the case, Hank and you, there had been no time to find peace or recuperation, it had only been a waiting game.

You feel your heart sink, you didn’t like that you had lost your sense of reason, and you didn’t like that that faulty reasoning had resulted in the worry plastered all over Jay’s face.

“Jay…I… I wasn’t thinking. I just felt like it was too selfish to try and argue my case at the time, I didn’t want to be a burden but everything just ran away from me. I’m so sorry.”

Jay looks back at you, blinking, shaking his head as a tear escapes his eye, “I don’t want you to be sorry, Y/N. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry that we didn’t take the time to really understand what happened to Hank, I’m so sorry that we didn’t make sure you were taken care of too. We all let our hot-headedness take over, and that was inexcusable. We know who you are, Y/N, and we know you’d have never let anything happen to any one of us if you could have helped it. Hell, you saved Hank, Y/N, you know that right? Any longer and they’d have killed him, for sure.”

You sniff, crying as you hear those words of absolution. Jay stands and leans forward to carefully wrap you up in a hug, warm arms secured around you as you rest your head against his chest, feeling his palm slowly soothe over your aching upper back.

Then, a light switch clicks in your mind. 

Hank.

You slowly pull away, still holding Jay’s arm as he sits back in the chair, watching you for any signs of distress. You stare back at him, 

“Hank’s alive?” You ask quietly, scared that you might have misheard him previously. 

Jay nods, grateful to be the bearer of good news, he smiles, “Yeah, sweetheart. He’s alive, he’s down the hall from here recovering.”

“Oh, thank god.” You exhale, feeling a whoosh of relief wash over you.

The nurse returns holding a second blanket, a tray with what looks like giant marshmallows on sticks and a signed chart which you assume has your painkiller dosage on there.

Jay moves back out of the way to let the nurse sort you out. You catch him just watching, you can see the tension in his body is far less now, and you feel relieved for both yourself and him. You knew what a weight it was for him to take care of the unit alongside Voight.

The nurse adjusts the blanket over you, “Here we go.” she winks, moving next to key in some instructions on the machine controlling your painkiller dosage. You thank her as instantaneously there’s a growth in the warmth over your extremities and a sudden lightness to your pain.

Then, she gently removes your mask, before dabbing a ‘marshmallow’ in a cup of water, “Just press your lips on this, it’ll help.” She encourages you, and you do as instructed, humming as the coolness of the liquid soothes your chapped lips and dry mouth.

You nod in the affirmative of you being satisfied, and she takes it away, placing it in the tray she brought with her. She takes the mask and gestures for you to let her put it back over your face.

“We want this on a little longer. Dr Marcel did your surgery. He had to perform some repairs to your kidney. I can’t give you the full details but the reason you became so unwell was the forming of a hematoma, a clot around the point of injury, your injury would be considered a grade III when it comes to renal trauma.” You nod, wordlessly taking in the new information, prompting the nurse to carry on, “You shouldn’t worry, though, the prognosis is positive and you did not need a kidney removed. he’s going to come by in an hour or so to check on you himself. In the meantime, if you need anything at all, just press the call button or your detective can come to get us, okay?” 

You want to laugh at the phrase “your detective”, as if Jay was your personal assistant, the smugness on your face didn’t go unnoticed by the detective in question, making him smile too. 

You then mull over the fact that your kidney had been damaged, you had needed a repair, and it definitely explained why you had felt so sick. Coming back out of your thoughts you see the nurse waiting for a response, hurrying yourself to reply,

“Of course, thank you.” You watch as the nurse leaves before turning back to Jay. He tilts his head slightly, curious as to what you wanted to say, “What?” 

You bite your lip, unsure whether to speak, “You don’t have to stay, you know? I don’t want you wasting time here.” 

The second the words land on Jay’s ears you regret speaking them, you knew better than to push him away, especially after something like this. 

He shakes his head, scooting closer again, “Really? I think I get to choose where to be, and I want to be here with you, kiddo.” He’s lightly stern with you, you knew how much he looked out for you, and if you were being honest you didn’t want him to leave. Not for one second.

You sigh, smiling sheepishly, “Okay. Just so you know Jay, saying ‘thank you’ seems like a real understatement of my gratitude, but thank you, man, seriously….” You have another question, “What about Hank though?” 

Jay waves the question off, “He’s got Adam and Kim with him, we’ve been taking it in turns between the both of you, Hailey and Kevin have gone to shower, change and grab a bite.” He continues, “Hank wants to see you by the way, as soon as you’re allowed, or at least face time you. He’s in good spirits, all things considered, he told us what happened, Y/N, we’ve launched an investigation into Arnold.”

Your stomach flips. Arnold. “You have?” You ask, in disbelief that your theory was actually definitely the truth. 

“Yeah, Hank knew something was up before the breach, but he couldn’t quite figure out what, but then it was too late. Now he’s got CIs and us working on it, you know what he’s like, trying to work from his damn hospital bed.”

You roll your eyes, not at all surprised Hank would be trying to take down someone from the confines of a hospital bed. You laugh, “Sounds about right”.

Jay laughs too, squeezing your hand in his, he takes in your appearance. You were there, but your eyes seemed to involuntarily droop, you were clearly fighting sleep, fighting the exhaustion that sat firmly in your bones.

“Listen, Y/N, why don’t you try and get some rest, alright? You’ve only just woken up, and you already look like you could sleep another year. I’ll be right here, and whatever you need, we got it, okay?”

Part of you wants to protest, you still had so many questions about what actually happened to you, what happened after you passed out, and just what did Marcel need to do in your surgery? However, you had to concede the answers would have to wait until the surgeon did his rounds, and until you could keep your eyes open for more than two minutes. 

“M’kay, I want to fight it, but I literally can’t.” You mumble, grasping a little more onto Jay’s hand, clasping his wrist. Jay finds it immeasurably cute, clasping his own hands over yours as he rubs a thumb over your forearm, soothing you back to sleep.

“You’ll stay?” You ask, voice thick with approaching slumber, head sinking back into the pillows.

He nods with a doting smile, “I’ll stay, kid. Get some sleep.”

Fin.

-