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Four years ago she would have noticed it immediately.
He’d shielded her when the explosion happened, both of them being thrown to the ground.
They’d got back up and she’d been checked over by paramedics who’d cleaned most of the blood from her face.
Then they’d gotten back to work.
Until hours later when Jay had abruptly dropped like a rock.
She’d called for an ambulance and then scrambled to try to figure out what was going on.
His pulse was racing, respirations rapid and shallow.
She starts checking for hidden injuries and doesn’t find anything until she lifts his shirt and sees the dark, angry bruising spreading down his right side.
“Damn it, Jay.” She mutters.
She updates dispatch; the vitals, bruising, possible broken ribs, possible internal bleeding.
Then she sits there, internally begging him to wake up but not saying anything out loud.
The paramedics arrive, getting him on the stretcher and loading him into the ambulance.
Then she heads back to her vehicle and follows them to the hospital.
Paces the waiting room, waiting for an update.
Intelligence arrives, telling her that Voight is in a meeting and asking if there’s news.
Then Adam puts his foot in his mouth.
“Do you really want to sit around waiting for him after what he did?”
The air goes cold.
She and Jay had wordlessly agreed not to talk about what had happened between them while they were busy working this case.
She isn’t really sure if she’s going to stick around long enough to talk afterwards either.
She thought the rest of the team got that.
Not to mention, she’s done a lot of thinking since she left Chicago and while she’s still a little angry with Jay, he’s certainly not the only one.
“Really Adam.” She says coldly.
“Well,” he says, stepping back. “I just thought…”
He trails off.
“I am pissed at him.” she says. “I get to be pissed at him. Because I was worried about him, for months, and I tried to talk to him but he wouldn’t talk to me and then he left and I called and texted and he didn’t answer. So I get to be pissed at him. You get to shut the hell up. Because none of you checked on him, none of you ever even bothered to ask if he was okay.”
“I.. we…” Adam splutters.
Kim and Kevin are avoiding making eye contact and it just makes her even more angry.
“He was fucking drowning.” she snarls. “And none of you could even be bothered to toss a life preserver his way. He was your friend for a decade and you didn’t care.”
She scoffs, shaking her head.
“Just go.” she says bitterly. “He probably won’t notice any difference.”
She sits back down, dropping her head into her hands.
She’s not even sure when they actually leave.
She knows when the doors open though.
Jumps to her feet before the doctor can even finish saying her name.
She’s still listed as Jay’s emergency contact and she’s not sure how she feels about that on a general level but she’s grateful for it at the moment because nobody that he works with has shown up, not even his handler.
The injuries aren’t as bad as she’d been afraid they would be.
A single broken rib and a hemothorax that may or may not be related.
The blood had pooled in his chest cavity badly enough that it was compressing his lung and compromising his breathing.
The blood has been drained, the bleeding stopped and he’s hurting but he’s breathing fine now.
He’s even awake if she wants to see him.
She does.
She wasn’t sure if she would but somewhere between ripping the three musketeers a new one and hearing that he’s going to be okay, she’d realized there’s something she needs to say to him.
Realized that she’s not ready to walk away and let him drown.
“Upton.”
She turns back, stomach flipping when she sees her old boss walking across the room.
“What room number?” she asks the doctor.
She won’t ask him to wait while she sees what this is.
“2131.”
She smiles, thanking him and turns back to Voight.
“News?” he asks, watching the doctor walk away.
“He’s stable.” she says vaguely.
“Good.” he says. “He’s always been too reckless. We’ve got a lead, figured you’d want in on the raid.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she says flatly.
He frowns.
“I used to think you actually cared about him.” she scoffs, shaking her head. “That underneath all of the annoyance, there was some kind of fondness. But he was just useful sometimes. And when he wasn’t, you would sit there and hold his head under the water to amuse yourself until you needed him again. Only one day, he got tired of fighting to stay afloat and let go. And as he was drifting away, you called off the search parties.”
She clenches her fist.
“And I fucking let you.” she says bitterly. “I was pissed. He hurt me and needed a fucking wake up call but I will never forgive myself for letting you convince me that walking away was the right answer. That giving up on fighting for my marriage was what was best for me. Hell, even that you actually gave a damn about what was best for me.”
“What?” he asks. “Of course I -”
“You broke him.” she cuts him off. “You chipped away at his sense of self for years because who he is, what he believes, was so often inconvenient to you. And it was easier for you to say ‘fuck him, you deserve better’ than it was to admit the role you played in what he did.”
“That’s not -” he starts again.
“I called my bosses.” she says, not caring that she’s cutting him off again. “They know where I am, that I’m dealing with a family emergency. You guys have got the raid. I’m staying right here, where I was always meant to be.”
And then she turns, pressing the call button and being buzzed through the double doors.
Jay is sitting up when she walks in the room.
He’s still even paler than usual, has an oxygen cannula threaded under his nose.
“Will says hi.” she says.
They may not be technically connected by marriage anymore but she still talks to Will every couple of months.
Had called him as soon as Jay had been taken back for treatment and has kept him updated ever since.
“Sorry you had to deal with it.” he says, looking away. “I… honestly kind of forgot to change my emergency contact.”
“It worked out.” she says, “Your handler isn’t here. Trudy looked some stuff up, made a few calls but…”
“Yeah.” he says, and she can see the set in his jaw. “He probably doesn’t care.”
What the hell?
“Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?” she asks.
“Didn’t think it was a big deal.” he says, shrugging. “I didn’t realize it was… thought I’d just cracked a rib. Not much anyone could do about it and I didn’t want to bother you.”
Didn’t think you’d care.
“I want to know when you’re hurting, you asshole.” she snaps, surprising herself and probably him too. “Even if there’s nothing I can do about it, I want you to look at me and say ‘Hailey, I’m not okay.’ And let me fucking try!”
And yeah, not just talking about his explosion related injuries now.
That gets him to look up at her.
“It’s no excuse.” he says quietly. “But it didn’t feel like I was worth it.”
“Jay.” she says, the anger melting out of her and just leaving hurt and sadness in it’s wake.
“You tried to stop him.” he says quietly. “You tried to tell me we couldn’t do this again and I just… followed after him like a lost dog hoping that he would start listening to me again. And then you had to kill her. And it was a good shoot in circumstances that never should have happened. Again. You were still feeling guilty about the first time and I’d just put you through it again. But this time, it was a good person who’d become our friend and who had a little boy and I…”
He looks down.
“I was stuck in quicksand and I didn’t know how to get out.” he tells her. “And I was so scared if you tried to help me that you’d end up falling in too. By the time I realized that you actually chose to be with me, that I was hurting you by pushing you away… it was too late.”
“You did.” she says. “You pushed me away and it hurt because I wanted you to come home. Wanted to figure things out together but you were so intent on suffering alone that you managed to hurt both of us worse than he ever could.”
He looks pained.
“I know.” he says. “I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t even begin to be enough but I’m so sorry, Hailey. Hurting you was the last thing I ever wanted to do I just… I honestly couldn’t see any other option.”
“The other option is that we get you a therapist.” she says. “We keep you the hell away from Hank Voight and you talk to a professional about what you’re feeling. And you fucking talk to me.”
He’s not an idiot.
He notices the use of present tense.
Of maybe future tense.
“You… you still want to talk to me?” he asks.
“You’re the love of my life, Jay.” she says seriously. “I’m not saying one bedside conversation in the hospital after you’ve gotten yourself blown up, again, fixes everything. We’re not anywhere close to where we were but I’m not giving up on you. Voight was the one to suggest it and if I’ve learned anything in the last year, it’s that that means it was a terrible idea.”
He quirks a small smile.
“We’ll keep talking.” she says. “You’ll do what you should have done three years ago and let me be there for you and you’ll find a way to earn my trust again. And maybe we’ll do the marriage thing again but we will always be best friends. Always be family. No matter what.”
“Always.” he agrees, eyes suspiciously damp.
Then he hesitates, something clearly on the tip of his tongue but seemingly not sure he’s allowed to say it.
“You can ask.” she tell him.
“Can – can you stay?” he says quietly.
“Of course.” she tells him, leaning down to press a kiss to his temple.
His eyes fall closed and a tear breaks free to run down his cheek.
She straightens up and pulls the chair closer to the bed before sitting down.
“Can’t believe you’re staying.” he whispers.
“You asked me to.” she says softly. “Get some sleep, Jay. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
He falls asleep with a smile on his face and she reaches for her phone.
They’re not okay yet.
But they will be.