A/N

All mistakes are my own.

I do not own anything in regards to Chicago PD, except my love for the show and the characters.

PART 1

Jay's POV

I was dead on my feet. A case that should have been simple, turned into a three day fiasco. We were all functioning on minimal sleep, copious amounts of coffee and short fuses. If we wouldn't have closed the case today someone would have drawn blood. As it was, Platt had to stomp up the steps 3 times, telling us to take the volume down a notch and keep the swearing to a minimum. When she finally huffed up the stairs the last time, she slammed a 5 gallon bucket on Antonio's desk informing us that she was now charging $2 for bitch, ass, shit, $5 for any anatomy parts or swear word number #1 - "fuck" and "dammit" would be free unless preceded by "God", then it cost $10. Not because she was particularly religious, but because Antonio usually does the majority of his swearing in Spanish. "Goddammit" was the only way she was going to get any money out of him since he started almost every sentence with those two words in english. By the time I went home I was down $80.

But I digress, yes, dead on my feet. I opened my door and lose my shoes, jacket, keys and wallet in a trail from front door to bedroom. My gun and badge went on my nightstand and the rest of me went in the bed. I woke up 2 hours later with a very angry bladder. Since I was up, I stripped off my clothes, threw on a pair of basketball shorts and bellyflopped back into bed.

I woke up again sometime later, not sure why I was awake. When I realized I was just too tired and groggy to figure out why I was awake my head is suddenly shoved into the pillow while a knee was being jammed into my back forcing me to cry out in pain. Other hands grabbed my kicking legs while someone else held down my arms. I couldn't move and I couldn't breath. I struggled until someone jammed a syringe into my neck. As I slipped off into oblivion, not capable of struggle, they started to release me and I could finally suck in a gasping breath. It was then I became vaguely aware of my arms and legs being moved, followed by the snap and clicks of the handcuffs as they closed around my wrists and ankles. Shit.

When I came to, God knows how much later, I was on my stomach, handcuffed to the corners of my bed, blindfolded and duct tape over my mouth. I struggled to get a feel for how much leeway I had. Not much. Not enough. So there I lay, with nothing happening. I knew they were there, standing around my bed. I could feel their presence, just standing there. Standing there doing nothing. I actually had the thought that they just needed to get on with whatever was going to happen because I was tired and wanted to go back to sleep. I blame that idiotic thought on exhaustion.

They had to know I was awake but they didn't move, didn't speak. I have to say it was really unnerving; and I really didn't want them to do anything but… Thwack…something slammed down on my lower back. I cried out into my duct tape and pulled against the cuffs. I'm not sure if it was pain so much as being startled. Shit. I guess I'm not getting any more sleep tonight then, huh? I knew that my inner sarcastic dialogue was a defense mechanism. I was scared shitless. I had no control of what was happening or what the outcome would be. I couldn't see, couldn't talk, couldn't move. I was reduced to putty on a bed that they could do with whatever they wanted. So I laid there and again there was nothing. I could feel my apprehension building, waiting, waiting for it to come and then somehow, it would come…Thwack…my left thigh and again I would cry out, startled by the pain yes, but the surprise of it - even though I knew it would inevitably come. This continued, for I'm not sure how long. I don't think there was an inch on the back of my body that wasn't hit. They avoided my head and neck. I guess they didn't want to knock me out or kill me, which was unfortunate because I was in a tremendous amount of pain, which I guess was the purpose. Hard enough to hurt but not hard enough to break bones. I used the down time between hits, sometimes a couple of seconds, sometimes maybe a minute, to figure out who they might be, what in the hell they were hitting me with and why they were hitting me. They didn't seem to want information-they weren't asking any questions. So I guess they just wanted to beat me senseless.

I know I'm still keeping it light here, but the truth is I am freaking out. I can't get away from the strikes. I am basically spread eagle on my bed. I only have enough room to writhe against the bloody cuffs in pain. And as much as I would like to remain still since my wrists and ankles were being torn to shreds, I couldn't.

The tears from pain and frustration came when they started going over my body for the second time. I was begging into the duct tape before I finally passed out.

I have a hazy awareness of the cuffs being unhooked from the bed and gentle hands moving my arms and legs…I sigh in relief, with hope…Erin?…No. Not Erin. They flipped me on to my back and start the whole process again.

Main Bad Guy Asshole POV

I slipped the door open and stepped inside, pausing to let the stillness of the room return before we moved the rest of the way into the apartment. When the 5 of us were inside and the door was again shut and locked, we paused before moving. Everything in the target's apartment was visible with the night vision goggles we all wore. The living space was clear so we moved on to the bedroom slowly and silently. We paused again when we entered, again letting the stillness of the room return, while being on the ready if the target did wake up. We then moved to the foot of the bed. The dossier we received was accurate: 5'9-5'11, 170 - 180 lbs. lean and wiry. The dossier stated that we were not to underestimate the strength or character of the target. He was an Army Ranger. A dangerous one. The target was sleeping on his stomach, head turned to the side. He was wearing only shorts. It was then that he stirred. We didn't react but stayed still as he lifted his head slightly for a moment only to drop it back down never once opening his eyes. All eyes were on me as we took our paces around the bed. With a nod everyone simultaneously played out their roles with precision: 11 o'clock pushed his face into pillow, knee on back, hold left arm. 1 o'clock held right arm with knee, both hands on upper back. 5 and 7 o'clock each held a leg. Knee on leg, both hands on ankles. With swift efficiency the target was subdued as I moved around the bed and plunged the syringe into his neck.

While the Target was drugged, his wrists and ankles were handcuffed to the corners of the bed. Duct tape and blindfold placed. Then we waited for him to wake up before we began part two of our mission. I again moved to the foot of the bed as the others move closer together with the leather saps that were hanging from their belts now in their hands.

I watch as the Target wakes up, tests his bonds and lifts his head, turning to each side, sensing our presence. I raise my hand to the men. Hold. The Target stills. Waiting. Anticipating. 5 O'clock is watching me, knowing he will have the first strike; followed by 7 O'clock. I nod my head. Whack. The Target cries out and pulls on the cuffs that are cutting into his skin and will soon be bloody from his struggle. We wait. I nod to 7 O'clock. Whack. Again the Target cries out. And so, it begins. I allow myself a half smile. I am a professional but I like my job.

THE BULLPEN

Voight is in front of his office with his "don't fuck with me" stance, feet apart, hands in pockets, head thrust forward like a bull. We all sit at our desks trying not to choke on the tension in the room. I send one last text to my partner/boyfriend, Jay, "WAKE UP!" Then, "Hey, just so you know, Voight's gunna kill you."

"Well?" He growls at Ruzek as he comes up the stairs two at a time.

"Platt hasn't heard from him and Mouse is at Fort McCoy in Wisconsin, some army thing."

"Al, Erin, get over there and drag his ass out of bed and remind him he's not Sleeping Beauty. The rest of you hit the paperwork. No one leaves today until it's finished."

Ruzek in typical "let me try to cut the tension by sticking my foot in my mouth" form, says, "We all know Al is the only one here pretty enough to be Sleeping Beauty."

Which invokes a raised eyebrow from Erin, a death glare from Voight and a quiet, "Thanks for noticing" from Al.

Al's POV

Erin has stopped grumbling about her partner long enough to pound on his door and then use her key to open it, not even waiting for an answer.

"Jay, Jay!" She yells going into the kitchen. I follow the trail of shoes and other belongings into the bedroom.

"Shit! Erin, call an ambulance."

She runs to my side, NOT calling an ambulance as we both enter Jay's bedroom.

"Oh, kid." I whisper. "Erin! Call an ambulance."

Erin finally calls while we both move to the bed.

"Jay." I say as I lean down to the bed and take his pulse. Some relief…"He's alive… Aw, shit, kid." That's all I can say as I take in his still figure on the bed. If I had only looked at his face, I would think he was asleep. Peacefully asleep. When I look at the rest of him all thought leaves my mind except "What did they do to you."

He's laying flat on his back. Head rolled to the side. He's only wearing a pair of basketball shorts. A piece of duct tape and what I am assuming, a blindfold on the far corner of the bed. His wrists and ankles, bloody and cut up, I assume from struggling, are handcuffed to the corners of the bed, pulling him spread eagle. From the neck down he is covered from welts, most already turning to bruises. I can't fathom the amount of hate? that went into this abuse. I can't believe he's alive.

Erin and I both move to the ends of the bed to uncuff him. Both of us talking to him in hushed voices so he knows we're here. As soon as I get his right arm uncuffed and start to slowly bring it down to his side, he starts to shake his head side to side mumbling, "no, no no." Breaking my heart all the while fanning the flames of my anger as he tries to move away from me and curl into himself.

The paramedics from 51 arrive. Both try not to react when seeing their friend, cuffed to a bed, delirious with pain and fear. We keep murmuring to him, assuring him it's okay, that he's safe, as we finish uncuffing him. Gaby and Brett try to get his vitals and an IV into him as he continues his weak struggle against our helping hands. They eventually have to sedate him so they can continue their workup and get him ready for transport.

Erin has quiet tears streaming down her face as he struggles. Hating, as much as I do, having to hold him down when it is only adding to his fear and pain…Once the sedative take hold and they get a line in him, we move to get him on to the backboard. As we roll him to slide the board under, Gaby gasps "Oh fuck!" I lean over Jay to see. A rage boils up in me as I close my eyes and take a breath… "They flipped him."

Erin rides in the ambulance to Med with me following them. I call Voight. "Get crime scene to Jay's apartment and meet us at Med." I hang up not waiting for a response from Voight. I can't talk right now. I'm torn between wanting to cry and wanting to kill someone. Hopefully the 10 minutes I spend in the car alone will return me to some semblance of sanity.

Erin's POV

By the time Al parks and gets into the ED, they have Jay in a med bay. Jay's brother Will, has been relegated to a corner, hands clasped on top of his head and strung as tight as an arrow. He knows he has to stand back and can't treat his own brother, and it's killing him.

All I know, is that somewhere along the line Jay went into shock and that's what they are trying to get a hold of it before he goes into cardiac arrest. Al has joined me at the door and explains to them what he knows, which isn't much, in fact, it's not anymore than they already know just by looking at him.

I am doing my best to stay calm and just take in what is happening without crying. Once I start crying all bets are off and I won't be able to stop. I also won't have a clear enough head to try and understand what is going on. So I stand there watching my unconscious boyfriend, who's had the shit beat out of him, be poked and prodded and stuck with needles. They are speaking a language I don't understand and I can't follow what's going on. I don't know why doctors have to speak doctor, when there are regular humans, on the verge of a panic attack, around.

They finally get him stabilized enough to take him for x-rays and a CT scan. Voight and the rest of the team arrive just as they are ready to move him and freeze as they take in what they can see of Jay's body, the cut up wrists, the bruises covering his chest, shoulder and arms and the one leg that is partially showing.

They wheel Jay away with Will trailing behind as the rest of us just stand there. Adam break the silence with a very appropriate "What the fuck?"

They all look to Al and I for an explanation. Before we can start, Connor stops and fills us in with as much as he knows at this point. Nothing. Except Jay is stable, he is still sedated and they are taking him for tests. Hey, thanks for that!

Al fills in the rest of the team on how we found Jay. I continue to stare down the hallway after Jay. Al must have gotten to the part about them flipping him and that his back looks the same as his front because my mind is brought back to the group when Voight slams his fist through the wall. He looks at the hole in the wall for a second and then storms out of the building. Al sighs his quiet sigh and calmly goes after him. The rest of us stand there like statues until Kevin grabs my elbow and leads me gently to the waiting room, saying to me pretty much what Al and I were saying to Jay when we found him. The rest of the team breaks up then. Adam sits on my other side and Antonio looks at the whole in the wall left by Voight. Looking very much like he would like to add a couple himself. Finally, he pulls out his phone, 5'll get ya 10 he's calling his CI's.

I can't sit there any longer, I need to escape. I look at Adam and say, "Call Platt. Tell her what happened and that we need Roman and Burgess." Then I walk to the bathroom and finally let myself feel everything I had been keeping down.

It's almost 2 hours before Will enters the waiting room to fill us in. By then we had all come back together, stewing in our combined quiet rage. The few "outsiders" that had come in to await their own news of a loved one, quickly left. I'm sure they could feel the rage swirling around us and it probably didn't help that Voight glared anyone out of the room who dared cross the threshold.

When Will comes in, he gives us a simple, "He's okay." and drops into a chair at the table as we all join him. He looks like he's aged ten years. He rubs his eyes, takes a breath and fills us in.

"He's stable. No broken bones, no internal bleeding. There were no significant blows to the head." We all breath our various sighs of relief but before we can ask any questions he continues with a definite edge to his voice. "He has contusions of over 80% of his body. From what we can tell, he was beaten, slowly and methodically for approximately 4-6 hours based on the coloring and depth of the bruising."

"Christ…" is all Antonio can get out before Will interrupts him.

He looking pointedly at us, almost accusatory. "Who would do this? What kind of a person would do this to another human being?" It's not that he blames us but blames the job and all the danger that comes with it. He expects answers from us. Answers we don't have.

We are all too shocked to answer. I'm asking the same thing. Who and why would someone do this to Jay.

Voight, his fists in his shoved deep in his pockets, since the only things close enough to hit are members of his team, growls, "So he will be okay?"

"Yes. For now we've got him in ICU as a precaution. We're keeping him heavily sedated for the next 12 hours to 24 hours to give his body a chance to recover from the shock. We'll monitor him closely and depending on how he does, we'll move him to a private room then. So for now, it's just a matter of hurry up and wait."

"Burgess and Roman are on the way. We don't know who did this and until we find out, I want someone on his room at all times."

"Thanks, Voight. I understand and thank you. You guys can go up whenever you are ready. Just check in with the nurse."

MAIN BAD GUY ASSHOLE POV

I can look and play the part of a doctor as easily as any other part I have played in my job. Therefore, I easily slip into the target's hospital room. I will be here for less than a minute. I lean over and flip up his eyelids, one after another with my gloved fingers, feigning interest at what I see there. I check vitals and the numbers on the beeping heart monitor. 'All looks as well as can be expected with this patient' I think to myself, chuckling in appreciation of my sense of humor and my handiwork.I fix the sheet covering my patient, pulling it down from his chest to just above his hips. He looks peaceful. I push down on one of the darker bruises. Not a trace of discomfort registers on the face of the target and the heart monitor remains steady, a sign of deep sedation. With a final look at the heart monitor, I place my thumb at the bottom of the target's sternum and spread my hand at an angle over his abdomen. At the tip of my little finger is where I push the sharpened metal dowel through his body until it reaches the bed.