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There’s a continuous ringing in Jay’s ears that follows the rain of bullets that had pierced through the van and wreaked havoc in the small, trapped space. Coupled with the raucous beat of his heart, it’s all Jay can hear and feel as he finds the nerve and willpower to open high tightly squeezed eyes. Simultaneously, he’s trying to get his breathing to calm down, but nothing about this situation is calm or okay because he knows he’s alive, and he’s waiting for his brain to catch up with that reality.
Open your eyes, Jay. Open them. You need to check on Hailey, damn it.
He’d had to tackle his partner down to the floor of the van, hopelessly reaching for a bulletproof vest in hopes of covering them— her —for protection. But then his desperation had him resorting to just wrapping his arms around her, hands covering her head and his body covering hers as best he could, desperate to keep her from getting hit. With the way his head spins as the prolonged ringing continues in his ears, he’s not sure if she’s okay, and so Jay finally, finally finds the power to open his eyes.
“Hailey?” he rasps, dipping his chin to look down at her, at the way her body had curled into his. Panic still lingers in his blood, has been present since the fall of bullets echoed within the van and he came to the horrific realization that they had been made, and his stomach knots as he sends silent pleas out to whoever is listening that the woman in his arms is okay. Beams of sunlight pierce into the van through the bullet holes, their equipment damaged and debris littering them and the floor. “Hailey, you good?”
Her response has his pulse halting, a quiet moan that subtly muffles against his chest, and the ringing in Jay’s ears intensifies for new reasons as he carefully loosens his arms around her before turning her on her back. Blonde strands are loosened from her ponytail, debris stuck within her hair, and the world seems to stop spinning when Jay takes in his pallor, her gasping breaths as she stares emptily at the ceiling while his alarmed gaze goes to her side as crimson blood seeps out of a hole from her jacket.
If Jay were to take a look at his right arm, he’d see the sleeve of his dark jacket wet and stained, but all of his attention is on the very obvious bullet hole that ripped Hailey’s jacket—and the way her chest moves up and down unevenly, desperately, when he looks her over and doesn’t see an exit wound.
The panic returns in full force.
“Shit, shit—Hailey, hey, look at me,” he says, his voice quick and alarmed as he leans over her, one hand on her cheek to get her gaze to meet his. Jay’s pulse is hammering in a way it never has before, jaw clenching as his other hand presses to her side to apply pressure. The touch instantly has Hailey growing tense, eyes squeezing shut as a cry escapes her, meekly trying to pull away from him. “I know, I know, but I need to apply pressure, okay?” He tries to soothe, forcing himself to remain calm when all he wants to do is lose his goddamn mind when he sees the puddle of blood gathering beneath her, staining the debris that had rained down on them.
“Jay, Hailey!” Voight’s voice comes from outside the van. “You good?”
The tendons in Jay’s neck tense as he shouts back, “Hailey’s been hit! We need an ambulance now !”
Fortunately, Voight doesn’t hesitate as Jay hears him radio, “50-21 Squad, I’ve got an officer down at the West End Garage. 148 North Cicero Ave—I need an ambulance at my location right now .”
“Hey, you hear that?” Jay says to Hailey, watching as her blue eyes slowly slide to meet his, and he gives her a smile that he can feel quivers on his lips. His attention is split between keeping pressure on her wound and making sure she stays awake. “Ambulance is on its way. Stay with me, Hailey, okay? Please, just stay with me.”
He can hear the pleading in his own voice, but he doesn’t care as he watches the slow rise and fall of her chest, so at odds to the pounding his heart is enduring. His blood has frozen in his veins out of paralyzing terror, but his skin is burning from panic and desperation, from the utter guilt that claws at his throat for not protecting her better. Fuck, fuck, fuck —how could he have let this happen?
Some air returns to his lungs when he hears the sweet sound of sirens approaching them, but that relief is short-lived when Hailey’s eyes begin to flutter. “Hey, hey, no, no, no,” Jay starts, throat tightening as he lifts one hand from her side. His skin is stained red, warm with her blood, as he presses two fingers to her neck. Jay’s eyes and nose burn when he can only faintly feel her pulse. “No, come on, don’t do this. I got you, baby,” he mutters to himself. “Wake up, Hailey. You gotta stay awake.”
Her eyes flutter once again, giving him a flash of those baby blues, just as the back of the van doors swing open and he sees Voight standing there and, thank God, the ambulance and EMTs. “She’s looking consciousness!” Jay calls out to them. “Bullet to the side, no exit wound. She’s lost a lot of blood.”
The next few seconds are a flurry of rushed but careful movements as Jay helps the paramedics slide Hailey onto the backboard. An oxygen mask covers her mouth and nose as they rush her into the back of the ambulance, and with wild eyes and stained hands, Jay looks to Voight and says, “I’m going with her.”
It’s not a request, but Voight nods anyway and Jay hops into the back, the doors slamming shut behind them and they’re on their way to the hospital. Helplessness rattles his bones as the sirens ring through the air and he watches the other paramedic unzip and push away Hailey’s jacket and button down shirt, the blue material stained with her blood that only intensifies the burning in Jay’s eyes, the shaking of his hands.
He watches the paramedic work, but he can’t make sense of anything because his gaze is fixed on her face, her eyes closed, though he doesn’t hesitate to grab the I.V. bag of fluids the paramedic asks him to hold after inserting a line into Hailey’s arm. He hates that she looks so pale, her face having lost all the color he wants to get back. Her chest doesn’t move as steadily and frequently as he would like, and the fear has its claws sunk tightly in his chest—right in his heart.
“Is she okay?” he finds himself asking the paramedic, voice hoarse. “Is she going to be okay?”
The expression on the paramedic’s face doesn’t bring him any comfort, nor do her words. “I can’t stop the bleeding.”
No, no, no. That’s unacceptable. “Please, you gotta—” He chokes on his words, wide eyes on his partner, who drifts in and out of consciousness. Jay reaches forward, his free hand taking hers, and he tries not to fall apart at how cold her skin feels. “You gotta do something.”
The paramedic is in the midst of packing the wound to the best of her abilities as she shouts back at her partner, “How long until we get to Med?”
“Less than a minute out!” the driver calls back.
The minute seems to fly by, and soon the ambulance is pulling up to Med’s emergency room entrance, the doors flying open. Jay helps the paramedic pull the gurney out, still holding onto the I.V. bag as the rush inside. “Take her to Baghdad,” Maggie says the second they walk in, and Jay barely notices someone taking the bag out of his hand as Dr. Marcel rushes forward.
A hand grasps Jay’s arm, stopping him from walking into the trauma room. “Jay, Jay, you gotta let them work.”
His wild eyes swing to his brother, whose expression is etched with concern as he holds onto Jay. Looking back to the room, Jay watches as they transfer Hailey onto the bed, and Jay knows very little medical jargon and procedure as he watches Dr. Marcel, April, and some other nurses work on Hailey.
His chest tightens because she looks so small laying there, and his lips quiver as he numbly says, “It was an ambush. We were trapped in a van and were gunned down and I—I tried to protect her. But she got hit and—”
“Jay.” Will’s hand grips his shoulder and squeezes, pulling Jay’s gaze away from his partner to his brother. “This isn’t on you. You did what you could.”
He can’t breathe. “It wasn’t enough.”
They’re suddenly wheeling Hailey out, and Jay’s gaze is instantly on her, her eyes closed as the oxygen mask remains on her face and he wants nothing more than to be right next to her, holding her hand. But they’re taking her away, panic seizing his chest, as Dr. Marcel steps up. “We need to go in and find the bullet.”
“Is she—she’s going to be okay, right?” Jay asks, following him through the E.R. towards the elevator and feeling Will on his heels.
Hailey has already been wheeled into the elevator, and Dr. Marcel steps inside and turns to face an antsy Jay. The doctor’s expression doesn’t give anything away as he says, “I’ll know more in surgery. Hang tight, okay? She’s in good hands.”
It’s the last thing he says when the doors slide shut, and Jay is left standing there with a thundering heart that has no plans of slowing down. The E.R. is bustling and busy around him, but all of his focus is on Hailey and the silent pleas he is sending to anyone who is listening that she’ll be okay.
“Jay.” Will’s gentle voice slowly pulls him out of the daze he’s lost in. “You need to wash your hands.”
Jay’s gaze jerks down, inhaling sharply when he sees his blood stained hands— Hailey’s blood. Nausea burns his throat, stomach roiling as his hands tremble the longer he looks at them. The reality of it being her blood is a kick in the stomach, an iron fist around his stuttering heart, and Jay stumbles away from the elevator. Will is right there, hand on his shoulder and guiding him towards the nearest bathroom because Jay is incapable of finding it himself in this state.
He doesn’t know where the rest of his team is, doesn’t really care, as he enters the thankfully empty bathroom and stumbles over to the sink. The water is warm as he places his hands under the faucet, tinging the water pink as Hailey’s blood washes off his skin, using soap to wash away what his mind can never forget. Even as it washes away, Jay can feel the weight of it still on his hands, getting in between his fingers, under his nails. But there is no getting rid of the guilt that robs him of his breath, that suddenly has the machine gunfire echoing through his head again, and Jay has to squeeze his eyes shut and bow his head, gritting his teeth as he tries to fight it off.
But it roars in his head, harshening the beat of his heart as he tightly grips the edge of the sink to keep the world from spinning around him. Except with his eyes closed, all Jay can see is the image of Hailey laying in the van, the color drained from her face as blood darkens her clothes, her ragged breathing echoing in his ears. . . And Jay’s knees give out from beneath him.
He collapses on the tiled floor, barely hearing Will call out his name as the burning in his eyes comes to a crest and he feels the tears finally escape. Back against the wall between the two sinks, Jay ducks his head and presses the heels of his wet hands against his eyes, teeth gritting as he falls apart. He can vaguely hear Will, feel his brother’s hands on his knee, his shoulder, as he lets his fear, guilt, and anger take over.
Fuck, the last time he cried like this was when his dad passed earlier in the year, but the guilt and pain of losing his father is completely different than this. Jay tries to remind himself that Hailey isn’t gone, that the doctors will do everything they can to get that bullet out, to fix her right up. But that doesn’t stop him from thinking that she shouldn’t even be here in the first place.
This whole situation is fucked, and Jay isn’t in the right frame of mind to even begin thinking of how they got here; all he can think is that he should have been faster, should have protected her better. He fucking failed.
“Jay, hey, look at me.” He feels Will’s hands gently grasp his wrists, pulling his hands away from his face. Jay’s vision is blurred from the tears, having some trouble breathing through his tight throat and stuffy nose, but he does see the worry on his brother’s face. “You gotta breathe, man.”
Jay’s voice is hoarse as he says, “It’s my fault.”
“No, it’s not,” is Will’s instant, firm response. His brown eyes are stern but comforting as he looks at Jay, like he is pleading for the detective to listen to and believe him. “I have no doubt that you did everything you could. And I know Hailey knows that, too.”
Just hearing Will say Hailey’s name has a shuddering breath escaping Jay, his entire body trembling with the exhale as he blinks away the blurriness of his eyes. He tries to listen to Will’s words, desperately tries to find the logic and reason in them, but there’s no room for those things when Jay feels damn near paralyzed on the inside.
She’s his partner, his best friend, and he couldn’t protect her. What kind of partner is he? He promised to always have her back, and now she’s having surgery done because he failed. She’s fighting for her life, and he can’t pick himself up from the damn bathroom floor.
“She wouldn’t want you beating yourself up over this,” Will continues, his voice softening. “The only person to blame is whoever fired that gun, alright? Not you.” He moves his hands to grip Jay’s arms. “Now come on, get up. Let’s go sit in the waiting room, okay? I’ll see if I can get any updates.”
Jay’s bones feel heavy as he lets Will pull him to his feet, then tries to breathe out slowly as he wipes at his face. With a glance at his reflection, Jay sees glassy eyes red rimmed, his emotions so evidently displayed on his face when that is exactly what he has trained himself not to do.
When it comes to Hailey, though, she always seems to be the exception.
He follows Will out of the bathroom, through the emergency room, but finds himself lingering outside of the trauma bay Hailey had been treated in, head turned to the right to look in. A knot forms in the middle of his throat when he takes stock of the blood tinged gauze and wraps littering the floor, and his fingers curl into his palms at his side. He wants to put a fist through the wall, wants to hunt down the motherfucker who did this to her, but he also doesn’t want to be anywhere but here, waiting until he can see her again.
When they walk into the waiting room, Jay immediately spots the rest of his team. Will squeezes his shoulder and says, “I’ll go check for an update,” before turning and walking back.
Adam, Kevin, and Voight approach him, each wearing their own looks of concern as Jay takes a breath and tells them, “She’s in surgery. I don’t know anything else yet.” His jaw clenches before asking, “Do we know who the shooter was?”
Kevin shakes his head. “We lost him in the chase. Kim and Antonio are looking through traffic cam footage to track him down.”
The news is a blow as Jay asks through gritted teeth, “Wilson?”
“Didn’t make it,” Adam says. “Shooter seemed to be aiming for him and us.”
Fucking hell . Jay runs his fingers through his hair roughly, blood boiling as his anger begins to take over. It’s better than the suffocating guilt, at least. “So, what? Do we think it was a set up?”
He watches them exchange a look, and the dread lays heavy in his stomach as Adam explains, “Burner on Wilson’s body confirms that he knew we were onto him. He reached out to another burner for help and you know the rest.”
Jay can feel his pulse quickening, the anger an electric current in his veins. “Kelton?”
The looks on their faces are answer enough, and he’s once again overcome with the need to put his fist through a wall. Or Kelton’s face. “We’re all over it, Jay,” Voight says gruffly.
Jay nods slowly, trying to control his breathing and not lose his damn mind as he says, “I can’t—”
I can’t leave the hospital. I can’t leave her. I can’t be anywhere but here right now.
The words don’t leave him, but his team understands as Kevin squeezes his shoulder. “You’re exactly where you need to be, brother.”
If Jay had thought Hailey had looked small earlier, when the doctors were working on her, it’s even more evident now as she lays in the bed. Her blonde hair is untied, I.V.s once again hooked into her arm, and a nasal cannula in her nose. To his relief, her chest rises and falls more steadily and evenly now, Dr. Marcel’s words after the surgery was completed echoing in his ears.
“It had been touch-and-go for a minute there because we couldn’t find the bullet. But it had ricocheted into her abdomen and we were able to get it out. She’s very lucky and, truthfully, can be out of here in a couple of days.”
Jay had needed to hear that, desperately. To have the confirmation that she was going to be fine felt like a breath of fresh air, but he also knows it won’t compare to the relief he will feel when she finally opens her eyes. The steady and consistent beeping of the monitor displaying her heart rate is a comforting sound, despite all his discomfort of hospitals, and as Jay sits in the plastic chair next to her bed, he has to stop himself from reaching and taking her small hand in his.
There’s an ache in his chest where his heart should be. Hailey is the toughest person he knows, and this whole situation is fucked up. He wonders why it wasn’t him who got hit, and he knows if he ever voiced that to Hailey, she’d rip him a new one. Although they had a rough start in their partnership, Hailey quickly became Jay’s best friend; the one person he knows he can count on, because she has shown up for him time and time again since the beginning.
The mere idea of something happening to her. . . The thought of her not being around and busting his balls while also being at his side is paralyzing. It’s a hypothetical he never wants to become reality. That’s the truth, even if Jay never acted on the thrill he felt every time his gaze landed on her. Hailey almost effortlessly crawled inside his chest without him even noticing—and he doesn’t mind it a bit.
He’d beg on his knees for her to forgive him for not keeping this from happening.
A soft, almost unnoticeable groan interrupts Jay’s thoughts, but he only notices it because he can’t not notice anything having to do with Hailey. His gaze snaps to her face, pulse quickening when he sees her eyebrows furrowed together as her head lolls towards him before—thank God—her eyelids begin to flutter.
He’s on his feet and moving closer almost instantly, eyes widening slightly as he gentles his tone and asks, “Hailey?”
Another answering groan escapes her, and Jay’s heart jumps to his throat when she finally opens her blue eyes and squints slightly against the lights of the hospital room. But her sight adjusts quickly, and soon she’s looking up at him and the relief he feels is stunning. “Hey,” she says, her voice a hoarse whisper. The top half of the bed is elevated so she’s not laying flat on her back, and Jay’s fingers once again itch to brush away the blonde strands framing her face. The color has returned to her skin, but her expression becomes a grimace when she tries to sit up a little more. “Ouch.”
“Try not to move too much,” Jay tells her, moving his hand. It hovers right above the top of her head, but instead he rests it on the pillow a few inches above her head. “Do you. . . Do you remember what happened?”
“Um.” She closes her eyes, eyebrows furrowed for a moment. “We were in the van, waiting on Wilson and—” Hailey looks up at him, her expression turning grim in realization. “The van was shot up.”
Jay’s jaw tightens, forcefully pushing away the images from his head as he nods. “Yeah. I took you to the ground but, uh, you got hit.”
Her gaze drifts to her side, like she can see the wound on her side under the blanket. No doubt she can feel it. Hailey sighs, head tilting back before her gaze slides to him once more. He sees her eyes search his face before drifting down his body and then back up. “And you? You’re okay?”
A huff of a laugh escapes him, shaking his head. “I’m fine, Hailey. You’re the one I’m worried about.”
“Oh, I’m fine,” she says with a gentle roll of her eyes. She’s never been one to make a fuss over her injuries, no matter how severe. But Jay always worries enough for the both of them, which is why the tightness in his chest is familiar. He felt it after her altercation with Booth and when they found her and Kim after they’d been taken at the gun show months back. The sight of her injured always felt like a punch in the teeth for Jay, accompanied by the undertone of guilt that was expected to come when your partner gets hurt and you weren’t able to have their back.
It’s impossible not to feel it, even if logic says the guilt is misplaced. But working with someone so closely, day in and day out, and getting to know them outside of the job strengthens the partnership, creates a friendship. And this one, with Hailey, is one Jay cherishes the most.
Before Jay can say anything else, Hailey asks, “Do we know what happened?”
“It looks like a set up. The team is chasing some leads.”
Hailey blows out a breath, one corner of her mouth lifting and hinting at her dimple. “I don’t suppose you’ll help get me out of here so we can get back to work?”
Her request doesn’t surprise him. A soft chuckle escapes Jay, shaking his head. “As much as I don’t like hospitals, I’m not aiding and abetting in your escape.Dr. Marcel said you’ll need to stay put for a couple of days.”
Her eyes widen. “A couple of days ?” She drops her head back with a groan. “Come on.”
He bites the inside of his cheek at her frustration, rubbing the back of his neck as his gaze drops. Jay can’t quite meet her gaze as the responsibility of her being down for the count hits him once more. He knows how tense and delicate things are right now with Brian Kelton breathing down their necks and, most likely, being the reason why Hailey’s in a hospital bed right now, along with Adam getting wrapped up with Internal Affairs. It’s been all hands on deck lately, and he knows Hailey’s going to hate not being able to help.
“Hailey, I’m sorry,” he says, the words rushing out. Immediately, he feels her gaze on him, and he forces himself to meet it. Bewilderment widens her eyes, eyebrows pulling together, and when he sees her try to sit up more, he places a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Careful.”
She lets him push her comfortably back, but the frown creasing her forehead smoothes out in realization. “Jay,” Hailey begins, her voice softening. “It’s not your fault if I get hurt.”
“I’m your partner,” he counters. “It’s my job to have your back and keep you sa—”
“And you did,” she insists, cutting him off. A disbelieving laugh escapes her. “Jay, you tackled me as soon as you realized what was happening. If you hadn’t, I promise you I would’ve been worse off. You tried to cover us with a bulletproof vest. You did your best.”
He clenches his jaw, the guilt refusing to let him see her reasoning. “And you still got hurt,” he says, voice tight.
“Jay, you’re not Superman,” Hailey says with an airy laugh, looking up at him with a light in her eyes he doesn’t feel like he deserves. Her arm—the one not hooked up with different lines—moves until her hand rests on his left upper arm, giving it a squeeze as he tries not to hone in on the fire that ignites under his skin where she touches. “This is just the job, right? Shit happens. The only person I blame is the one who did the shooting. So don’t carry guilt that’s not yours to own.”
It won’t magically disappear, this weight, but Hailey’s words ease some of the burden off. Her smile, her touch, make it a little easier to breathe as he slowly nods. “Okay.” He hesitates for a split second before moving his right hand to rest on top of hers, which is still resting on his arm. They’ve never done this before—this unrestrictive touching that should be innocent except it doesn’t feel like it is, and isn’t that a messy, risky place to tread? But he can’t lie: it feels good. He squeezes her hand, which earns him a smile, as he says, “I’m glad you’re alright, Hailey. I, uh, I got real scared there.”
Her smile softens, because Jay knows that Hailey is aware, better than anyone, that he’s not always been the best in being vulnerable. She’s like him in that aspect, but as their friendship and partnership grows, they’re getting better at letting each other in, and letting each other see parts of themselves they otherwise wouldn’t share with anyone else.
So Hailey turns her hand under his until she’s holding his just the same, returning the squeeze as she says, “It’ll take more than a couple of bullets to get rid of me. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me, partner.”
A laugh escapes him, his first in the last couple of hours, and how appropriate that it’s with Hailey. “I’m totally alright with that.”
She grins, her dimple deepening, and her blue eyes are locked on his as she says, “Thank you.”
Jay inhales deeply, lips pressing together as he nods and promises, “I got you.”
Hailey leans her head back against the pillow, her smile ever present. “I know.”