Chapter Text
A typical Tuesday rolls into a Wednesday that would take the 21st District, and the world, in a very different direction.
___
The aroma of coffee drifts through Hailey's apartment. She mills around her bedroom, tidying her slept-in bed, clearly procrastinating changing out of her grey sweatpants and an over-sized concert t-shirt from years back. She turns the corner out of her room to her kitchen, running lazy fingers through her blonde bedhead as she yawns. The coffee couldn't be more timely. She swings open a top cabinet and indecisively chooses a yellow "Make Today Great" mug.
On her ideal "me" day, she'd curl up on her favourite chair in her living room with a dangerously fluffy blanket and read, watch, and listen the day away. But, of course, it's not a "me" day, it's a Tuesday morning at 6am and insomnia is a bitch.
Barely able to cool her coffee off, she feels her phone vibrate in the pocket of her cozy sweatpants. She pulls it out, her partners face under the time and date:
6:11am
10 March, 2020
"Don't kill me." Jay's teasing voice echoes through the device as she moves to balance it on her shoulder, coffee and a blueberry muffin in hand, walking to her bedroom to change.
"Don't put it past me." She returns after swallowing a rushed bite of her breakfast, but she knows he can probably sense her smile.
"Yeah, yeah, you're more than capable. Although, I did go to the gym this morning- arm day, I'll have you know." He scoffs, and she can hear the faint sound of his Ram door opening and shutting as he gets inside, his car beeping to a start.
"What'd I tell you about fishing for compliments, Jay? Get on with it." She calls from the other side of her bedroom while she finishes changing, her phone on speaker now.
"Oh, right, that. Reason I called," he continues, ranting about a case, one that on paper seems to be a one-and-done.
"Anyway, I'm on my way to scoop you up, Voight wants us posted in an alley to wait for this punk to cross our path." She nods, as if he can see her. They exchange a few more eye-roll-worthy remarks and hang up.
Minutes later, she's dressed and in her living room, tying her combat boots and slinging her duffel bag over her shoulder before the day starts. Nothing was unusual about this Tuesday morning; early morning, caffeine boost to fight the lack of sleep, and a call to work whenever something rolls in.
The rest of the world bustled all the same, going about their day normally, ebbing and flowing in the mundane. If only they could have prepared themselves for what was to come.
The day flies by in a blur of paperwork, chasing a suspect, a little bruise here and there from said suspect, and, before they know it, it's 10pm and the atmosphere of Molly's drowns out the memories of the work day. Some overplayed country song softly joins the laughter and conversation of the team at a table.
Adam's arm lazily wraps around Kim's waist as they stand to leave, bidding see you tomorrow's to their coworkers. Kevin and Vanessa hang back to talk to Jay and Hailey a bit longer, and Voight makes a once-in-a-decade appearance at the bar standing at the front of the table to tack onto their conversation before grabbing a drink and talking to Herrmann.
"The hell is he doin' here- man never comes out to have fun." Kevin pokes, making the others at the table shrug and laugh. They catch a glance of Trudy and Mouch flirting at a high-top table.
The company is familiar, the smell is... strong, and the ambiance is home. It would be one of the many nights, though, that they would take for granted.
___
He's not sure if it's the beer haze, or the exhausting work day yesterday, but Jay awakes groggier than usual at 9am, a good three hours later than his natural alarm clock allows him. He stretches in his spacious bed, blinking away his heavy sleep. A yawn is interrupted by his phone vibrating, and he leans back onto his pillow to answer it. This time its his eyes seeing her face below the time and date on his phone:
9:03am
11 March 2020
"Hello?" His raspy morning voice greets her.
"Morning sleepy head. I'm at Bridgeport Coffeehouse, want anything? I can come grab ya on the way to the district too, your place is on my way." Her offer is almost too good to refuse, the thought of coffee from one of his favourite spots and a ride to work was a great start to this midweek day.
"Yeah, I'll take my usual, thanks. Wouldn't mind a ride either." He answers, balancing his phone between his cheek and shoulder to put his jeans on.
"Got it. Be there in like 10." He can hear her muffled conversation with the barista in the background.
"See you in 20." He pokes, laughing, and he's probably right- factoring in the Wednesday morning traffic. He can hear her take sips of a coffee and laugh in between, and it really shouldn't make him smile like it does.
Hailey's car pulls to a stop outside Jay's apartment complex, and she fiddles out her phone to text him.
15 minutes.
What?
I got here in 15 minutes, not twenty. Close enough to "like 10", right?
Sure. Be down soon.
Jay saunters out of his complex a moment later, duffel bag in hand, and slides into the passenger seat of her car. He buckles his seatbelt slowly, then he sends her a sarcastic, stern glance. "Don't drive so fast on the way to work, though. Precious cargo." She rolls her eyes, and he shakes his head to suppress a laugh.
"I told you, don't put it past me that I'd kill you. Today could be your day, yaknow." She threatens, raising an eyebrow. He just mirrors her gaze, and two could play at this game, but, of course, the crime in Chicago won't fight itself.
The drive to work is quick, and roads they always expect to be packed are just... empty. It doesn't cross their minds that there's any real reason behind it, and their work commute banter flows naturally until Hailey pulls into the lot of the 21st.
They step out in sync, shouldering their bags and carrying their ridiculously expensive coffees. They step up the stairs, finding one of their coworkers searching aimlessly around the place.
"The hell is going on around here?" Kevin calls out, approaching them quietly.
"Morning to you too, Kev." Hailey smacks his shoulder, but he doesn't crack his familiar jokes or shover her in return. He just peers around the corner into the bullpen, then ushering them into the locker room.
"Uh, we just got here, why? Something wrong?" Jay pushes his bag into his locker, furrowing his eyebrows at his coworker who looks far more distracted and uptight than usual. "Kev," he grabs his shoulder, focusing his attention to Jay.
"I don't know, man. I don't know. Sharon Goodwin is here, and Trudy and Voight looked about as white as a ghost, dawg." Hailey and Jay look at each other, then at Kevin, all of their minds whirling at this point.
"Goodwin? But why would sh-" Hailey's question, and all of their mutual perplexity, is interrupted by Voight's abrupt, intense tone.
"I need everyone in the bullpen, now." Their boss calls out.
"Oh boy..." Kevin strides out of the locker room and into the bullpen.
Hailey and Jay stop in their tracks for a split second, but follow to see Kim, Adam, and Vanessa standing in the middle of the room beside Kevin. Hailey squints her eyes between all of them, a TV coming into view. Voight holds the remote and stands beside Trudy at the front near his office, and Kevin was right about their pale complexion. Sharon is nowhere to be seen.
"What's this for?" Jay points to the setup, his eyes searching the room for answers along with the rest of the unit.
"The news today... isn't good." Trudy's quiet voice drops, her zoned-out expression blanketing the team with concern.
Voight looks at each member of the unit, and they all nod before he turns on the breaking news, flipping to one of the many three-letter channels broadcasting it.
A news anchor is surrounded with headlines and statistics about the new virus spreading, something that wasn't a subject of choice to be brought up at the department, and something none of them had given much thought to.
The anchor's words, however, draw in their attention quickly:
"The World Health Organization director-general officially declares COVID-19 a global pandemic."
After several minutes, Dr. Anthony Fauci, Director of the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases (NIAID), appears on the screen, an interviewer asking him loads of complicated questions. Phrases like stay-at-home order, face masks, quarantine, hospital overload, and others send twinges through the room full of usually rock-solid detectives.
The air suddenly feels thin in the bullpen. The entire world is watching this unfold, of course, and reactions are varying from person to person. Everything has essentially come to a standstill. Each member of the team just stands silently, soaking in the shocking words on the television. Goodwin reappears in the bullpen a moment later, and all eyes turn toward her.
She takes a weary deep breath. "Well, this of course is not the news we wanted to see come out on this virus. As you heard from Dr. Fauci, mandated stay-at-home orders and quarantines are critical, especially for bigger cities.
While the Governor Pritzker and Mayor Lightfoot have yet to release any real statements on this, I dropped by to advise this unit on what I believe will benefit you best." She glances to Voight, who lifts his chin in a nod. He steps forward, clearing his throat.
"We're putting Intelligence on furlough." He says bluntly.
"Furlough? How are w-" Several voices mingle together.
"Enough." Voight interrupts roughly, raising his hand then pressing it to the bridge of his nose. "Enough. Just- let Sharon explain the protocols, and we'll go from there."
Goodwin lays a hand on his shoulder, her calming presence making a small dent in the tense room. "This may seem counterintuitive for fighting crime in this city, but for two weeks this unit specifically will be put in strict quarantine protocols. Chicago Med is doing the same thing, most of the staff will be living at the hospital for the time being. Don't worry, though, you won't have to be sleeping on cots here at the district. Hank, if you would like to," she knowingly nods at the Sergeant, who straightens his posture after leaning against his office doorframe.
"We'll be handing off our cases to Area 3 and 4 Homicide, the rest will go to District 18. After two weeks, we'll re-evaluate how the spread of the virus is, and potentially go back to fully functioning. You'll get a partial pension 'til then, and I want every pair of partners in here quarantined, that clear?" Slow head nods follow his words. "Pick one o'your places, pack your things, and join up. You only leave for essential needs like they said on the news. No bars, no indoor eating, no parties. Remember, fourteen days. Just... tolerate each other." His eye contact drifts around the quiet room again. The response is quiet for a few minutes.
"Uh... Sarge," Kevin calls out, warranting a glance from his boss. "W-when does this begin?"
"Today, now." Trudy's mellow voice answers for Voight, who confirms. "You all can go home, we'll keep you updated as we hear more," she continues, "keep your news on. And guys, stay safe, please." Trudy wasn't one to speak softly or genuinely worry for the district, especially not anyone under Voight's careful watch, but this tone was new for her, like she was burdened by keeping her family from harm's way.
"That's all for today," Voight's tired voice calls after Trudy's, "get settled and keep me in the loop. You're paired with who you ride with, that way when we get back to the job there won't be concerns of contact to the virus. Atwater and Rojas, Burgess and Ruzek, Halstead and Upton." He clarifies, pointing to each pair as he names them, and they're still all barely registering the information, if they're honest.
They all exchange hugs, the girls lingering longer than the guys in their embrace. Trudy makes her way back to the front desk, because she still has to manage the district in all of the chaos. She bids them all another goodbye and they spread out to clean out their desks and lockers.
Hailey steps over to Jay at his desk a few minutes later, swinging her leg over the edge of it like he does to hers. "Hey," her soft voice braces against the uptight atmosphere.
"Hey. I just talked to Will, he's moving into Med later today, but-" He hesitantly drifts.
"But?" She tilts her head, a smile reassuring him to continue.
"D-do you think we could go to your place?" His eyebrows quirk like he's preparing for a punch. "I mean, I know it's a little smaller, but you do have that pull-out couch, and that balcony, and," he rambles quickly.
"Jay, slow down," she's close to laughing, but she refrains because she can tell he's nervous. "Of course we can go to my place. Plus, I drove us here, so I can just swing you by yours to pack and we can head over." He nods, and the tension fades slightly. Something between the two had been growing for a number of months, but time didn't really slow down enough for that to be aired out.
If Jay thinks about it, that something had been there for a while, and then came Adam. Being a good partner, of course, he swept all of those feelings under the rug, because in reality he just wanted Hailey to be happy. Since then, though, they've both had a few close-calls and confessions in hospitals, bars, and in a few other random moments.
She stands from his desk to pack up her own, returning some of Jay's missing pens to their rightful owner. She manages a smile and something of a laugh from him, progress. "Wow, you're actually returning my pens? Huh," he chuckles.
She sarcastically glares at him. "Mhm, but don't get any funny ideas about stealing stuff around my place. Then I really would kill you." His hands fly up with a shrug, and she points a pair of scissors at him, and it's a small bright spot in the heavy day.
A few long minutes draw by, and the bullpen is eerily void of files, personal items, and people. The rest of the unit has gone home two by two, Voight being the only one to roll solo per usual.
Hailey and Jay make their way to her car in the lot, the morning light warming them as they exit the district. They both hop back into the car, and leaving work for the day - or in this case, two weeks - at 10:30am feels out of place.
___
Hailey pulls into the lot of Jay's complex like this morning, letting him out. "Sure you don't need a hand?" She calls from the driver's seat as she shifts into park.
Jay shakes his head, flexing one of his biceps, . "I'm good. Will's here for another few hours, so I'll just pack up and say bye. Be back soon." He waves, about to open the lobby door.
"Hey," she stops him, and he turns around, "take your time, really." He nods and smiles, and internally he's feeling grateful. He hops inside and up the steps after ringing the key code, and she pulls out her phone to occupy herself. In reality, she's taking advantage of a few quiet moments alone before she earns a new roommate. She exchanges a few texts with Vanessa, who just left Hailey's place to crash at Kev's. They humorously wish each other luck, but deep down Hailey knows her and Kev had been inching towards a spark becoming a flame.
Good thing I grew up with brothers.
And foster care had its share of conflict management lessons.
We'll be just fine, you and I. The guys, not so sure.
Bet your ass. Hey, I gotta run, Kev wants to grab takeout. Update me tomorrow?
Yeah, sure thing. Have fun 😉
Vanessa, of course, was the one to put some sense into Hailey at the hospital, when none of them thought Jay was going to make it out alive (becoming one of the many interrupted attempts at a confession). She loses track of time on her phone, and even though she's joking about quarantine with Vanessa, she truly forgets for a moment the current state the world is in.
It isn't long, though, before she shifts in her seat, putting her phone on the center console of her car, and it all hits her like a thick wave. We're really living through a global pandemic? Her mind races, and she recalls what they saw on the news earlier. Her eyes water slightly, and she silently curses the new reality.
Another message pops up on her screen, and it's Jay. She blinks away the glossy tears forming, expecting to see him pop out of the building any minute.
Might be a few more minutes, sorry.
I told you, take your time. I'm fine.
Thanks, Hails. Won't leave you to rust, promise.
He doesn't call her Hails often, but when he does, it's like a new level of warmth between them. Not a cheeky, lust-y warmth, but a sweet, trustworthy warmth. One she wasn't used to from men, and even the small things like that meant the world to her. Her head leans on the back of the seat, her blonde pony tail cascading over her shoulder. She rubs the bridge of her nose as a headache starts to form, and her shoulders are tense from the day unraveling.
Close to fifteen minutes later, the lobby door creaks open, and she turns her head, still leaning on the headrest. Out strides Jay, a mini carry-on luggage at his side and his duffel bag chocked full on his shoulder. A mile-wide grin plays on her face.
"What? Judging me?" He calls from the backseat as he tosses his bags in.
"Eh." She shrugs, looking at him through the rearview mirror. "You don't pack light, do ya?"
He shrugs in return, hopping back into the passenger seat. "They told us to pack the essentials."
Hailey rolls her eyes and backs the car out of the lot.
"Another eye roll and you might get stuck like that, you know." Jay teases.
They both grin stupidly at each other. As she turns onto the main road toward her place, though, she catches another glance at Jay, and she can tell he and Will might have had an emotional conversation. The ride is quiet for a few minutes as she wrestles on whether or not to check in with him. He's too at peace to rustle though, so they drive quietly, but comfortably, until they pull into the parking garage of Hailey's complex.
Jay hops out to grab his bags, slinging Hailey's on his other shoulder. He's a goofball and a gentleman all at once.
"W- Hey, I can grab that, you know." She attempts to wrangle it from him, but he just keeps walking.
"I know. I want to." At first he's sure, and then he's sweet. Damn it, she thinks, wondering what exactly she's getting herself into.
Before they know it, the elevator lifts them to her floor, and Hailey's standing at her door fiddling her key to fit. She's not nervous per se, but- well okay, she's nervous. It's not that she doesn't trust her partner, not that at all. It's not that his presence is looming or that she's intimidated by him staying there either. It's that, in the back of her mind, she knows what they could be walking into for the next two weeks. And oddly enough, she's okay with it. That is what makes her nervous.
Finally inside, Jay lugs his bags to the couch, setting them near a table behind it. Hailey wipes off her kitchen counter as if he hasn't been there a million times and as if she has to impress him. God knows he's a guy who would never in a million years notice a slightly dirty kitchen, because he has one of his own even worse.
He doesn't need to be entertained or made to feel comfortable either, he just plants himself on her couch, reaching forward to grab a handful of M&Ms on the coffee table.
"What'd I tell you about stealing stuff around my apartment," she sarcastically calls from the kitchen, drying her hands after washing them for maybe a little too long. He pops a few more in, sending an obscene hand gesture above the couch. Her laughter behind him is contagious, and he could listen to it all day, but he wouldn't dare admit it. They mess with each other all the time in good intention.
Several minutes go by, and to his delight, she rounds the couch into the living room with a giant bowl of popcorn. Jay sits up excitedly, again- he's like an easily entertained little boy, shoveling handfuls into his mouth. She teasingly pulls it back from him, sitting and crossing her legs on her own side, and setting the bowl on the other by the arm.
"Listen," he says with an almost full mouth as he stretches a long arm over her lap to grab another handful.
She yanks it away from him, holding up a finger between them with her other hand. "Nuh-uh," and her next remark is interrupted by his stealthy snatch from behind her, and she's left with an open mouth as he happily eats more.
"Yuh-huh. I might have to sleep with one eye open, or lock myself on the balcony, but I'm willing to test those limits." His features in her dimly lit apartment give it more light than it has, and they give her more warmth than she realizes.
He finally sets the bowl between them, lounging back into the pillows, and she can't help but glance over at him every once in a while between grabbing fistfuls herself. She realizes this might be his first time over here when she isn't mid-breakdown or covered in bruises. A few minutes later she looks over at him again- he's practically melted into the couch now, his focus honed in on some comedy he's probably seen five times.
And she's starting to grow sure that this won't be such a bad two weeks after all.