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He holds on to her hand as if it’s his only lifeline tethering him to this Earth.
Jay stumbles through their front door, his wife keeping him upright and balanced in every sense of the word. Physically, emotionally - she was holding him together. Her hand holds on to his arm as she leads him into their safe space; the familiarity that surrounds him is comforting, relieving - but the thing that steadies him the most is her hand locked together with his. It’s warm, gentle, tender. It feels like trust and promises and love and he still doesn’t know how he managed to ever get so lucky to find a love like this with someone.
Everything that transpired tonight is a foggy haze in his mind - a memory trapped somewhere far off in the distance. He’s not sure he’ll ever remember tonight with clarity, but at the same time he knows tonight is something he will never will forget. He’s not even sure if what happened tonight was real. It doesn’t feel real when thinks back on it and he can’t convince himself it’s actually real.
It feels like some sort of dream.
Maybe it is a dream, he thinks.
No, maybe it’s a nightmare.
Maybe it’s a nightmare and Hailey is curled up beside him in their bed, right now, trying to coax him awake while he battles his inner demons that lay idle under his skin until they strike at their perfect moment.
Except when he turns his head to the left, her hand is still in his - her small thumb rubbing against the base of his palm as they walk through their apartment doorway.
Into safety.
Into security.
It’s when she flicks the light on and he turns to get a good look at her face, he knows it’s not a dream. Her eyes are tired - hollow, if he dares. There’s flecks of blood on her neck - dried little splotches he imagines are from his own hands that still flicker with red hues. Still, there’s a calming assurance in her aura and a tight smile that shines in his direction despite it all.
He thinks it looks like love.
“C’mon,” she whispers. “Let’s get you out of these clothes.”
He lets her take the lead - he lets her shuffle the dark hoodie off of his frame and he lets it fall to the floor behind him with ease. She lifts his tee off next, which is covered in blood and regret and fear and the sight of it on the floor sparks something in him that he suddenly can’t face.
His eyes seal shut at the sight of crimson against his clothes, the tee pooled around his feet. He waits for her hitched breath, her sign of disapproval, the flash of disappointment in her ocean blue eyes.
But it never comes.
In fact, she never even flinches.
Not at him.
Not at his bloodied clothes.
Not at any of the choices he’s made in the last few hours.
She’s here with him.
Irrevocably, she’s here with him.
She turns to face him and just presses her palms against his cheeks - warm and tender and understanding. Soft, gentle palms curve the side of his face all the while she breathes out his name in the most tenderhearted voice he thinks she’s ever heard her use with him.
With anybody.
“Jay.”
He stares at their feet with hollow eyes. He can’t face her, he can’t look at her, he can’t bare to see the look of sorrow he knows must be looming in her eyes. It’s the one thing he’s never wanted to do to her, it’s the one fear he’s had all along about starting up this thing with her - disappointing her and see her and seeing his failures reflected back at him in her eyes.
“Jay,” she breathes again. “Jay, look at me.”
It’s her voice that pushes him to lift his head up and pull his gaze to her. It’s always her voice - guiding him, pushing him, loving him. He holds her eyes as best he can, salty tears blurring his vision when he catches sight of that cerulean shade he frequents, but she’s clarity amongst everything else spinning around him.
At the end of all his dark roads, it’s her pulling him home.
It’s her; it’s always been her.
It was always going to be her.
She was always going to be the light that pulled him out of the darkness.
He tries to open his mouth to speak, but his lips quiver with fear. “I’m…”
“It’s okay,” she whispers into the small space between them. “Everything’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay. We’re gonna be okay.”
“Hailey.”
He doesn’t even know if she’s even managed to hear her name - the words are so soft that he questions if he even spoke them aloud or if they were a figment of his imagination. Her soft thumbs continually rub small circles against his calloused cheeks, circles that ground him and center him amongst the chaos.
“Let’s go get you showered, yeah?”
He can only nod while she takes his hand and leads him through their bedroom towards their shower. The water spurts to life as his wife turns the knob to get the warm water brewing. She pulls her own flannel off of her body, leaving her clad in only her navy blue bra. She pulls the hair-tie from her blonde hair, wavy strands falling below her shoulders with a gentle ease. He watches his wife carefully as she leans down to untie her sneakers, tugging them off with deftness before moving them out of their way.
She leans down to help him with his own shoes next, untying his laces with the utmost delicacy and her feather-like touch. She moves them to rest besides her own sneakers, forgotten in some corner of their master bathroom. She moves to his jeans, unbuttoning them and slipping them off his legs along with his boxers; he steps to the side to help her dispose of them.
There’s a moment of pause while Hailey reaches her hand under the stream of droplets to feel the water temperature. It must be warm enough, because she drops her own jeans next, denim fabric ending in one of the scattered piles against their tiled floors. They both stand bare in a room full of condensation, Hailey tugging on his hand and pulling him through foggy glass shower doors and under the shower-head that covers them a stream of hot water.
He feels so heavy, but her touch is so light.
The water falls on them like a summer rain - new and clean - washing away the dirt and grime of the evening and all the memories that haunt him like the plague. He takes solace in the way she doesn’t let go of his hand, takes solace in the way she keeps her eyes focused on him throughout the quiet space they’ve settled into - like she’s waiting for him to slip, like she’s waiting for him to break.
The little droplets dance on his skin, ricocheting around them. He takes solace in the heat that fills his bones, takes solace in the way they’ve cocooned themselves into a small corner of the world where they seemingly can’t be touched and can’t be found. He lets his eyes flutter shut, focusing on the feel of her hand wrapped tightly around his.
But suddenly, it’s gone - her hand is gone, and he panics.
His eyes snap open and he reaches for her waist to keep her close, to keep them connected. He digs his thumb into her side to ease the fear in his mind that she’s left - left him. She’s here, he reminds himself, she’s right here. He notices her hands just reaching for the bar of coconut vanilla soap on the ledge of their shower and the sight of it allows him to breathe and relax a little easier.
“I’m here,” she whispers into the steam. “I’m right here.”
She takes the white bar of soap and starts lathering it against his chest, the aroma of tropical coconut and subtle vanilla starting to linger in the enclosed space. Her hands are soft against his skin, rubbing the dirt and grime off of his body with soapy suds. It pools at their feet - dark brown, black and red circling the drain in a vicious circle like the recollections from the night haunting his mind.
She’s delicate with her movements as she glides the bar of soap over the rest of his body, suds lathering against his dirty skin and falling to the floor. It’s not lost on him how most days this would turn into to more - frenzied hands and desperate kisses, roaming fingers and passionate stares.
But they’re past that now - this is dedication and promises and vows and marriage.
In sickness and in health.
She just continues on with her task, all without a second thought. The suds foam against his skin, rinsing him free of all the dirt and blood and vivid flashes pulsing through his mind. Even when she’s finished scrubbing the dirt off his own body, she doesn’t even worry about herself. She just runs the bar of soap over her own body haphazardly before she steps further into his space and wraps her arms around his middle.
In sorrow and in joy.
Her cheek presses against his bare chest, his thumping heart no doubt echoing into her ear. The comfort of her arms around him, the comfort of having her pressed against his bare skin - it puts his mind into the calmest headspace he’s felt in a while. He feels her fingers drag up and down along his back, her hot breath against his skin, her lips pressing into chest. The raging riptide of emotions settles and swells into a more manageable wave.
“We’re gonna get through this,” she mumbles into his front. “Me and you? We’re gonna get through this.”
He leans down to rest his cheek against her wet hair, his hands resting comfortably at her hips to keep her as close to him as possible. The droplets fall around them like rain, all encompassing and all consuming. He feels her lips press into his damp skin, feather soft kisses in between the crevice of his chest. Her thumbs graze his hips, her nails grip into his back - soft, reminding touches that give him the certainty he needs to know she’s here with him.
“I know it’s scary and I know you feel like you’re not in control of anything right now,” she continues. “But, I’m here and I’ve got you and I’m not going to leave your side.”
He just grips her tighter, pulls her closer and weaves his arms around her as they stand under the faucet together, water showering down around them like rain until it finally turns cold. She seems to give him a moment, gives him a moment to ground himself and hold tight to her before she finally turns from him gently to turn the knob to the left to let the water shutter off.
“What do you say we go get cozy in bed, yeah?”
His wife steps out of the glass doors first, tugging his hand and pulling him along after her. She pulls two white linen towels from their closet and wraps him up tightly in one, patting him try with the soft cotton before she even thinks about wrapping her own body in a matching towel. She haphazardly dries herself with her own towel, he watches her as she’s quick and hurried with her movements. She’s prompt, dropping the towel in the center of the floor before reaching for his hand and pulling him out into their bedroom.
The Chicago Skyline dances in the distance, the familiar buildings lit up with the dark night sky. He focuses on the familiarity of the scenery while she digs through his drawers. He watches the lights twinkle and remembers the first time they both saw the Skyline from this very apartment. It was the one thing they both couldn’t let go of, the one thing they couldn’t let escape their hands. They’d looked at a few other places but, two days after seeing that Skyline, they were signing the lease on their very first place as a couple.
“Just boxers or do you want a tee, too?”
“Just boxers are fine,” he mumbles.
She tosses him a pair before pulling out a tank top and a fresh pair of underwear for herself. It’s only when she starts slipping the cotton over her own two legs that he gains enough willpower to follow her lead and pull his own black boxers over his own body. He waits for her to throw the tank over her head, watching on as she pulls back the sheets of the bed that he assumes she must have made earlier that morning.
She tucks herself under the sheets on her side of the bed, eyeing him and his catatonic stare. He feels stuck - he can’t move, can’t speak, can’t escape the maze of his own mind. She shifts slightly in front of him before she pats the mattress beside her, urging him to settle against her. He feels the emotion brimming in his eyes, the bridge of his nose burning with unshed tears as he looks down at her.
“Hailey,” he says, voice cracking.
“C’mon,” she urges with her words. “Come lay with me.”
He’s slow in his movements when he slips in beside her. He doesn’t feel like he deserve her touch right now, he doesn’t feel like he deserves her comfort or her reassurance. Nonetheless, she pulls him closer towards her and pulls the weight of his body against her chest, letting his head rest just above her beating heart.
His eyes flutter shut against the noise in his brain, her heartbeat is a soft lullaby against the base of his ear and a soothing cadence amongst the storm. He breathes with her - in and out and in and out - slow, easy breathes that allow his racing mind to calm just slightly.
“I love you, Jay,” she whispers, her breath hot against his forehead.
It’s with that, that the damn breaks.
The sobs bubble to the surface and lodge in his throat before they escape his lips with a vengeful cry.
But she just pulls him closer and he holds on to her with all his might.
He feels his lips press against his forehead, feels her fingers tangle into his damp hair. “I’ve got you, okay? I’ve got you.”
He lets his fingers twirl against her tank in his desperate attempt to keep her close, even though somewhere far in the back of his mind he knows she’s not going anywhere. She’s in this, she’s with him, and she’s not going to let him drown in all this pain and all this sorrow on his own.
“Just let it out, okay? I’m here.”
She doesn’t riddle their silence with promises they’ve already breathed to each other dozens of times before, she doesn’t coax him to talk about what he’s feeling, doesn’t force him to relive the nightmare he let become a reality tonight. She just holds him close, runs her fingers through his short hair, and lets him pull all the strength he needs to from her.
It takes a bit, but he finally settles. He knows her tank is stained with his tears - bitter and burning memories that she doesn’t even hesitate to catch for him. Her hand rubs gently up and down his back, soothing the remnants of tonight that still cover him in darkness. But her hand and her touch and her lips against his skin become the flashlight he needs to pull him out of the dark clouds covering him.
“I know that you’re scared right now, and I know that you’re probably having a really weird out-of-body experience,” she starts with a gentle voice. “I know better than anyone what that feels like. Remember how lost I was when the Roy Walton thing happened? Remember how scared I was when everything went down?” She lets the question linger in the air, but he doesn’t have the strength to respond. “You held my hand the entire time, Jay. And now, I’m going to hold your hand the entire time, too.”
Her words feel light like a feather, but his chest still feels like its home to a heavy red brick that has no intention of leaving. He takes focus in her fingers that move against his skin - little touches that skim every inch that she can reach, little touches that fill the spaces inside his heart.
“I’m gonna be here for you every step of the way and in anyway that you need me to be,” Hailey continues. “I’m not going anywhere, Jay. I love you and we’re going to get through this the way we’ve always gotten through things - together.”
Jay lets her words settle over him like a comforting blanket - warm, soft and fulfilling. Her lips flutter against his forehead, and she slips her leg between his under the sheets to tangle their bodies together further. He squeezes against her hips, tilting his head-up to press a feather-like kiss against the base of her neck.
Her words help, they’d always help; she’d always help.
He knows she’d never leave his side and that this thing they’ve built together is strong and deep and true and that no matter what happens, at the end of anything and everything, they were always going to have each other.
He can’t put his finger on it, but something just feels different this time.
“Try to get some rest, okay?”
He settles into her, pushes his forehead into to crevice of her neck, and thinks.
It’s not the first time he or the team have gone off the books and gone of the deep end - and he knows it certainly won’t be the last, so he can’t put two and two together as to why this time feels so different and so heavy. It’s like there’s someone in his mind controlling the stream of consciousness that plays like a movie in his brain. His actions from tonight plays on loop - play, pause, repeat; play, pause, repeat.
Hailey drifts off quickly, her fingers that were dancing along his arms come to a slow halt and her breathing evens out with subtle puffs of air escaping her lips. Still, her hands don’t loosen against him and he remains cocooned in the safety only her small arms can provide him.
Alone with his thoughts, he has no choice but to give in to the ones that circulate on a constant loop. He replays the evening in his mind, he replays the past year in his mind, and he replays his entire career with Intelligence in his mind. He goes back and forth, up and down, and around in circles, trying to contemplate the entire situation and how he can move forward from something like this.
It’s not until it’s well into the morning that he has the realization, and it’s something so unbelievably simple, he can’t believe he didn’t see it all until now.