Tuesday, 1:15pm

Since she started showing, Erin found resting her hands upon her round belly to be somewhat of a comfort. She found that when she's upset or anxious, her baby would kick as a reminder to calm down, to take it easy and think about the bundle of joy she'll deliver in at least five weeks. At 32 weeks pregnant, the doctor warned and was absolutely right about the shortness of breath and heartburn she'll experience as a result of her growing baby crowding her stomach and pushing up near her diaphragm. She's lucky enough to not have experienced any lower back pain yet, but with her due date a little over a month away, she knows it'll come eventually. She's clumsy and she's hormonal and all she can think about is her fear of giving birth. The closer she gets to her due date, the more her concerns grow; there's so many things that can go wrong and the stress of it all isn't good for her or the baby, but there's one solace that grants her mind the escape from worrying about cord prolapse, slow labor, placenta previa, nuchal cords, placental abruption, fetal distress and so much more. The list is endless, but that one solace is work.

Yet, Hank Voight, her foster father and boss is sending her home in the middle of the day.

At 32 weeks, she's carrying a healthy baby. The doctor expects no complications, yet her boss sends her home to rest because she yawned once and yelled at Jay for drinking coffee when she had to cut off the beverage the second she found out she was growing his offspring. She may have cursed at Ruzek because he complimented her on how she's carrying her baby weight and because she had a glow about her that Erin swears is just sweat. She may have thrown Atwater's sub sandwich away the second he re-heated it because her nose is super sensitive and the smell of onions made her almost puke. She ignored Dawson the moment he started giving her advice and tips on what Laura used to do when she was pregnant. And she kind of shot Mouse an evil look the second he noticed her struggle to get up from her desk chair because her belly continues to get in her way. The arms of the chair only helped somewhat but the fact that the chair rolled made it difficult. So everyone in the unit pretty much had to walk on egg shells around her.

Months ago she agreed to desk duty, but she would not agree to being sent home. Not now. Not when her mind runs rampant with thoughts and she's fallen victim to pregnancy brain.

Erin had expected at least one person to defend her right, her need to stay at work, but no one said anything. Burgess stayed quiet because a few days ago she had asked to rub Erin's belly and it happened to be the hottest day of the summer and the air conditioner at the district had went out and the woman of the hour was uncomfortable and drenched in sweat and Kim had half a mind to ask to rub her stomach after the baby kicked. It was harmless. It was a question asked at the worst possible time. On any other day, she might have said yes, but that day she could barely register her comment before she laid into the other female detective about being constantly hot and about how her question was insensitive and just plain stupid. Burgess kept her distance after.

Lindsay looked around the bullpen the moment Hank repeated his order; he's sending her home to rest, to cool off and to prepare for her bundle of joy. She looked to Jay, hoping that he understood the look in her eyes that begged him to speak up. And he did just that, but he was on the wrong side, "Erin, I think Voight is right," his words are cautious because he's absolutely terrified of her right now, "just here me out baby," he mutters the second she gears up to argue, "it has been a slow week, hardly any cases and we're just here twiddling our thumbs to pass the time. It'll be good for you to go home, get off your feet and rest," he moves towards her, hands taking a chance to settle on her stomach, "and when I get off I promise I'll pick you up a whole jar of pickles, a bag of the saltiest potato chips and the greasiest deep dish pizza I can find."

Now Erin couldn't possibly reject that offer; it was a pregnant woman's dream. And after licking her lips and nodding eagerly, she pulls out of his arms as she goes to grab her keys. She ignores the sighs of relief that comes from the team around her as she goes to hug Voight, "I'm sorry."

"It's alright, kid," he hugs her back, rubbing circles into her back in an effort to reassure her, "now go home, take care of yourself and that baby of yours."

1:45pm.

For some reason, the protectiveness of her husband increased the second she told him she was pregnant. It skyrocketed the moment she showed him the plus sign on the five sticks she peed on. And the rate of his protectiveness only went up with each month that passed, each doctor's appointment they had and each kick from the baby inside of her. He couldn't help himself. It's why he forced her to tell Hank when she was only eight weeks along, not even close to the second trimester. It's why when she wakes up at three in the morning craving the one snack they don't have in their house and threatens to drive to get it herself, he sends her back to bed as he ventures outside in the dead of night. It's why he painted the entire nursery –with help from Adam- when she was out to dinner with Kim because he didn't want the fresh paint fumes anywhere near her. It's why he has multiple copies of a printed list of foods that cannot and should not be eaten by pregnant women held up by a magnet on the refrigerator in their kitchen and folded in the glove compartment in both her and his vehicle. It's why his hand is always resting on some part of her body –typically her back- when she's walking, or more often going up and down the stairs. And it takes every fabric of her being to allow him to leave it there, to guide her down the outside of the precinct steps and up to the driver's side of her car.

"Go straight home Erin," he asserted just as she turned to face him; she leaned back against her closed car door as his arms moved to wrap around her waist, "I'm serious."

"Where else would I go?" She teased. And when his expression didn't change, she leaned forward and rose to the tip of her toes to kiss the frown away, "of course I'll go straight home. You should really consider loosening up a little, daddy."

And she knew that would get him, she knew that would make him smile like it always did. It was something about hearing the title that his baby will call him; he won't be Jay, or detective or Mr. Halstead to his kid; he'll be daddy. Jay leaned forward and pressed his lips back against hers, raising his hand to wrap in her long tresses, "I love you."

"I love you too," she slowly pulled away, but her hand remained gripping his long-sleeve, dark gray Henley shirt, "and if you promise to be home in the next two hours with my food, I'll show you just how much I love you."

"You have my word," he eagerly pressed his lips against hers again and for some reason his hands found their way back to her stomach; it was like a magnetic pull that he couldn't resist.

"I could always wait for you to get off."

He reached beside her to grab the handle of the door, "Nice try."

Erin gave him one last kiss before stepping to the side to allow him to pull the door open. As protective as always, he holds her hand and helps her slide inside, "Watch your head."

"This is not my first time getting inside a car," she commented and while she tried to sound mad or upset about it, she really couldn't because he was just so hot and adorable when he worried over her. It just made her want the two hours to go by faster so he can come home.

"Can you blame a guy for worrying?" His arm rest against the top of her opened car door, and he gives her his signature smirk that she's pretty sure led to the bun in her oven, "you can't really blame me though Er, you're carrying some precious cargo." And if she wasn't already seated in the car and buckled in, he would have reached to touch her stomach.

"I can't blame you for worrying which is why I haven't bitched about it," he gives her a look and she amended her statement, "which is why I haven't bitched about it too much."

"That sounds much better."

"Ugh," she groaned, feeling around the side of her seat to find the automatic adjust, "Jay, do you know how irritating and completely embarrassing it is when I get in the car and have to adjust my seat because my belly grew bigger in a day?"

"It'll all be over soon," he soothes her cautiously because he never knows the right thing to say, "you have at least eight weeks left until you reach full term."

"That does not sound like 'soon' to me," she grumbled, shoving the key into the car with a bit more force than is necessary.

"Call me when you get home," he closes her car door.

And she rolls down the window after starting her car, "Okay, let's not pretend like you're not going to go straight back to the bullpen and call me."

2:04pm.

Erin lived in the moments when she was right. She sat in her car, rolled up the windows and locked the doors, watching as Jay went back into the building and waiting for the inevitable phone call she knew would come eventually. It took less than five minutes. And it was the only reason she hadn't driven off yet because she connected her phone to her Bluetooth and stuck the device in and around her ear.

"I'm on my way home, Jay," Erin laughed because she kind of predicted what he was going to say, "You can quit your worrying. I should be home in like fifteen minutes."

"That soon?"

"Yeah, well it is the middle of a work week in the middle of the day. I'm avoiding rush hour."

Jay leaned back, the phone resting between his ear and shoulder as he listened to her talk about whatever crossed her mind. She had grown more talkative since she became pregnant and he knows that isn't a symptom but it is a symptom of happiness and maybe that's just all it is. Erin is happy. And when she's happy then he's happy.

"Are you even listening to me?"

He blinked out of his reverie when he'd been caught, "I'm always listening to you."

"Oh yeah," she didn't sound like she believed him, "then what did I say?"

She didn't believe him at all.

And with good reason because he couldn't give her an answer, but she wasn't mad, she simply laughed because she knew her husband more than anyone.

"I said I can't wait to get home and take a nice, hot bubble bath." Erin stopped at a red light.

In order to avoid a car accident that would cause a two-mile car pileup, she went around the city instead of through it. The only thing about avoiding the highway was the multiple red lights she found herself constantly stopping at because she continued to miss the green lights. He pulled away from the conversation when he heard the rasp in Voight's voice notify them of a case that just hit his desk –a car accident on the highway. The same car accident that pushed Erin to take another route home –thank God. There were no witnesses. No casualties. No injuries. It could have been handled by another department but they had nothing else to do so Hank offered, especially because something wasn't right about it. A car accident but no one was found in the car that caused it. It bumped into other cars, caused for them to go off the road, only for the car that started it to catch on fire and practically blow up on I-94.

The light turned green and she drove only to miss the next light three minutes from the last one. This time though, she wasn't the only car out on the desolate road; there was one other car also stopped at the red light. A road filled with traffic lights every few minutes but surrounded by trees, streams and tall grass. It was the scenic route that would turn her normally 15 minute drive from the precinct to her house into a 45 minute one. Because of the car accident on the highway, it would still get her there quicker than if she drove her usual route. Erin pulled up behind the car and sighed, "I'm almost home if you need to get off the phone."

He didn't want to get off but the team was staring at him, "Alright…if you're sure."

"Jay, I'm like 30 minutes from home; that's if I don't get caught at the rest of the red lights."

The light turned green and she moved forward the second the car in front of her did. It was going slow, too slow and she was growing frustrated because they had to be driving under the speed limit. Ruzek calls his name, but Jay tells him to hold on.

"The car in front of me is going to cause me to miss every traffic light," she grumbled and rolled her eyes when her husband snickered on the other end, "and not to mention," she pauses when she hears air –the air specifically from her tires- release, "Jay," she sighs in defeat and then presses her hand down upon the horn when the light turns green and the car in front of her remains parked. It doesn't move. And for some reason she hears Jay talking to Adam in the background telling him he needs a moment with his wife before coming back.

"Babe, I have to go. We got a case," he's quick to say, "Text me when you're home. I love you!"

"But Jay, I-" he hangs up before she can finish her sentence yet the sentence still comes out in a whisper, "I think I got a flat tire."

Erin redialed her husband's number but he doesn't answer. And the one time she needed him to be his protective and overbearing self, he doesn't. She calls Hank, then each member of her team. No one answers. And she had an account with Triple A but she doesn't have her information on her and she didn't have the number programed into her phone like Jay told her to do months ago and as she steps out of her car to check the damage, she realizes that all four tires are flat and she only has one spare. Her phone is held tightly in her hand as she walks around her car, brushing her fingers over the slowly decreasing pressure in her tire.

"Weird," she whispered under her breath; one flat tire is normal, four flat tires are suspicious.

She stops at the back of her vehicle, glancing down at the back, passenger side tire. And when she hears the sound of multiple car doors slamming shut, it raises that suspicion when she looks up and sees three men walking towards her. She stopped carrying her gun when it became too uncomfortable to wear in its holster with her protruding baby bump getting in the way. She was defenseless. And as the two men continued to approach her, she moved quicker than what could be expected of a woman 32 weeks pregnant and she ran around the back of her car in an effort to get to the driver's side where the door remains open only to have it pushed shut when she's a few feet away. Her hand naturally gravitates towards her bump when she sees his face, "You're not supposed to be anywhere near me," her voice doesn't waver like she expects; instead it remains strong and firm with a hint of anger in it, "You're supposed to stay away from me. What are-"

And her words are cut off the second his fist connects with the side of her face. Her phone drops when her hand naturally comes up to cover her cheek. She looks at him in shock and before she could fully register what had happened another hit comes and then another and another and one of the other two men grabs the back of her neck and uses his physical build to slam her into her car. She falls to the ground, face bloodied and vision blurred as her hands feel around in search of her fallen phone. She spots it and she crawls in a desperate attempt to get to it but whatever faith and hope she felt disappeared the second a shoe kicks it away.

Erin was never one to give up. Any thought about giving up was fleeting the second she felt that kick, that sweet, innocent kick from her baby inside, pushing her to fight. And fight she did when one of the men gripped her arms and pulled her to her feet; she shoved, kicked, stomped down on toes, shoved her fingers in eyes, spit, bit, elbow and did everything possible to defend herself. It didn't work. It didn't last. Her stomach kept getting in the way. The men outnumbered her. One of them shoved her into the ground and laughed when she landed on her stomach, another turned her over onto her back and kicked her while the last guy, the man that she knew, the man who was supposed to stay away from her landed punch after punch upon her already bleeding and bruised body and she couldn't find the words to speak, to scream out for help on a road she knew not many people ventured to and to beg. Instead, she curled into a fetal position, doing every last attempt to shield and protect her baby.

His assault continued, she felt someone grip her by the back of the head, pulling it back, only to shove it forward against the pavement. The assault continued and he laughed the moment she lost the battle of consciousness when her vision became spotty before being submerged in total darkness. They all laughed at that, especially when he wiped his knuckles upon her blouse. He rose back to his feet and turned towards the two men he befriended recently.

"Dump her somewhere." He spit on her; it landed somewhere in her bloody hair.

Each man nodded and one grabbed her arm as the other grabbed her leg and they dragged her as if she was a piece of dead weight, as if she was a sack that needed to be moved. Her face scratched along the concrete and gravel as they pulled her down the street, into the forest and released her form to watch it roll down a small hill. Each man wiped their hands as the guy in charge approached and peered down the hill, smirking at his and their handiwork.

3:16pm.

Traffic began moving at a regular pace the second forensics arrived to the scene. Photographs were taken, individuals involved in the accident were questioned –even though they saw nothing, the scene was cleaned and traffic was able to move and this all felt like a waste of time. When it was deemed that there was nothing much they could do after fire fighters took out the fire that ruined their only piece of evidence, Intelligence regrouped.

"I'm transferring the case," Hank grumbled because this all was a wasted trip.

Jay checked his phone for the umpteenth time since he arrived and neither time went unnoticed by the team. Yet, it was Voight who voiced it, "Does something have your attention, Halstead?"

"Yeah," he whispered, shoving his phone back in his pocket, "It's just Erin. She hasn't text me back yet and she should have been home by now."

"…maybe she fell asleep?" Atwater offered a possibility that Jay had already considered.

"Or she could have been stuck in all of this traffic?" It was Ruzek this time who added his input.

"She didn't go this route," Jay followed the team back towards where they parked; "she purposely avoided it because she heard about the accident."

"Alright then," Voight asserted, throwing open his driver's side door, "we'll do a drive by your house and we'll go the way she went just to check up on her."

"Checking up on Lindsay; she's not gonna like this at all" Ruzek joked.

And it was in that moment that a jogger turned onto the pathway in the forest and began to pick up his pace. He felt the sun beat down on him; his white shirt was covered in sweat and he had only started his jog ten minutes ago. His feet beat against the dirt pathway in the woods; his breathing was even and spaced out and he was a natural at all of this. He tries to jog at least once a day after work and today was no different. He picked up his speed, taking advantage of the silence and the peace. He lived a few miles away but he didn't mind driving the few miles in order to enjoy a nice jog at a location that not many people know about; this is the perfect place.

Yet that moment is ruined the second he sees her feet, cut and scratched by the twigs and branches during her tumble down the hill. He comes to an abrupt stop and almost twists his ankle when he does it, "Hello," he calls out, taking a cautious step forward and that's when he sees her legs; her jeans are covered in dirt, blood and grass stains, "Miss," he calls out and a nervous waver sounds in his voice, "are you okay?" He knows the answer to that question but he fears coming to terms with it.

The young man, the 23 year old, closes in the distance the second he sees the large amount of blood, "Shit," he muttered under his breath, rushing up to her; he lowered himself to his knees and rolled her from her side onto her back, "Miss, can you hear me? I'm going to get you help!"

The man stood up and ran as fast as he could; he never brought his phone on jogs because he wanted to focus and appreciate the silence. He didn't want the distraction. And never in a million years did he think it was going to come back to bite him in the ass. He left the forest and started waving his arms around in search of another car; he doesn't see one.

For a second he starts to forget where he parked, but then it comes back to him. He takes off down the road, "Help!" He's screaming as he runs even though he knows no one is around, "Somebody please help! I need some help!" And the only reason he comes to a stop, the only reason he stops yelling is because he sees three trucks turn onto the road. He throws his arms back into the air and start to run in their direction –the opposite direction of his parked car, "Help! Help," he flags them down and sighs in relief when the truck leading the other two cars comes to a slow stop, "I…I," he's completely out of breath, "I need you guys to call the cops and an ambulance! I was out jogging! I left my phone in the car! Call an ambulance! It's a woman…she…she needs help! Come on," he waves for them to follow him and before any of them registered everything he said, they're out of the car, keys remain in the ignition, phones in hand as they all place separate phone calls. Someone's calling an ambulance while someone else calls it in to forensics. They're racing, stumbling in an untouched forest with roots and branches tripping up their feet.

The man keeps looking back, half expecting them to disappear while at the same time making sure they remained close, "She's over here!" He turns and starts to head towards the bush and that's when he started to fear that it was all an illusion, that he truly didn't find help and the heat was causing him to hallucinate because he didn't hear them anymore, he didn't hear walking, or deep breathing, or calls made to police and paramedics. He heard nothing. And if he didn't turn to look back at them, he would have thought none of it happened.

"She's right here," his shout snaps them out of whatever realm they were in and they all moved fast; they all moved at once towards her.

Olinsky kept the jogger back, asking him questions that young man wasn't equipped to answer. Ruzek was on the phone with EMTs, requesting one as soon as possible; he struggled to tell their specific location since they were off the main road, hidden in a forest. Dawson was on the phone with forensics, demanding that everyone who wasn't currently working a case get their asses to his location. It wasn't a request; it was an order.

This can't be happening, Jay thought. Halstead is in shock, too out of focus to notice the movement around him. Somewhere in the back of his mind he registers that Voight is checking for a pulse and comments on the weakness of it. He sort of registers Burgess on her knees, whispering reassurances to his unconscious wife. And he kind of hears the jogger in the background, talking to Al about how he discovered her. He couldn't handle this. This cannot be happening became his mantra as he heard Kim shout his name, "JAY!"

He looks scared. He's terrified. The only reason he knows he hasn't stopped breathing is because he hasn't passed out yet. His eyes scan her body and his hands float mere inches above her in search of where to touch her. From her toes to her face, she's hurt and injured and bruised and the complete left side of her head is swollen and covered in scratches, bruises and blood.

"Baby," he whimpers; his hand comes to cradle the right side of her face because that seems to be bruised the least, "Baby," he leans his head in, gently pressing his forehead against hers as the tears from his eyes fall upon her head, "Baby."

His hand falls upon her stomach and he closes his eyes as he waits for the inevitable kick, the kick he knows comes every time Erin's in distress or needs comfort. She needs a lot of comfort and she needs the kick of her baby to get it; Jay admits that he needs it too, but when it doesn't come, his heart stops. He pulls his head away from his wife's head and moves it towards her stomach, leaning forward to place his ear against it. He truly doesn't know what good it'll do but he does it anyway. He closes his eyes, face resting on her belly, arms spread out over her and cries; he cries until his body starts to shake and spasm, he cries until he can hardly breathe and he cries until he hears the sirens of the ambulance pull up.

3:47pm.

Everyone was shouting at once and he could barely make out who was saying what: "Clear the hallway! BP is 180/95! Clear the hallway! Page her OBGYN!"

Jay is trying to keep up, but he's having an out of body experience. He's moving, following the gurney, listening to the shouts from the paramedics, but he can't talk; he can't do anything because his wife is dying and his baby might already be dead. He can't breathe; he can barely walk and keep up, he uses the wall of the hospital corridor as guidance as he follows.

"29 year old pregnant female; assaulted and found on the side of the road. We don't know how long she's been there but it hasn't been more than two hours," that last piece of information was given to the paramedics by Burgess at the crime scene.

The crime scene, he thinks, his wife is the victim of a crime. The crime scene revolved around her and his baby; the same baby that's fighting for their life alongside their mother. He woke up this morning a husband and soon-to-be father and now all of that might change; he may go to bed tonight a widow and childless. His heart clenched at the thought.

Jay didn't know what to do. He couldn't keep still; he paced back and forth beside the gurney. Not once did his eyes leave the body of his wife. He wanted to help, he just didn't know how. He needed to do something, anything; he was growing desperate. Medical jargon was spoken by the nurses and he couldn't understand; it was all a foreign language to him. All he could make out was the paramedics filling the ER nurses in on his wife's current condition; he didn't know what any of it meant though. BP is 180 over 95. Was that good? Bad? Normal? Abnormal? He needed a translator just to break the medical lingo down into layman's terms.

Halstead finally got some sort of reprieve when he felt the hand of his brother wrap around his wrist. Will had come right on time, but it was obvious that when Jay stopped pacing and met his brother's eyes, his brother didn't know. He had no clue. His gaze held confusion; his eyes scanned him, from top to bottom, locking in momentarily on the blood stains on his clothing. Will checked his brother for injury and upon realizing that there were no open wounds to match the amount of blood soaked into his clothes, he released a relived breath of air, only for his airway to choke up by the realization that while the blood may not belong to his brother, by the look on Jay's face and the panic in his eyes, it belonged to someone they know, someone they love. And for a split second the question crossed his face and fortunately enough for Jay, he didn't have to answer it because Will's gaze fell behind him.

His eyes fell upon Erin, his sister-in-law, being approached by Dr. Rhodes who was currently being debriefed on her stats by the ER nurses. Will was at a loss for words. He's speechless. His brain couldn't even formulate a sentence nevertheless actually get the sentence out.

"Hi Erin," the gloved hand of Dr. Rhodes gently stretches her eye open; he flashes a light and observes the change in her pupil, "She's in pain. Give me 10mg of morphine," he examines the other eye, "Pupils are dilated; I'm suspecting a brain bleed and swelling. I need an OR. NOW! Erin, can you hear me? You're at the hospital now. We're going to take good care of you and your baby. We'll start with relieving you of some of this pain." She doesn't answer. She doesn't respond, or blink, or squeeze his hand and her chest is moving so slow that if Rhodes' didn't press his ear to her chest, he wouldn't think she was breathing. He stands up straight and slowly lifts her shirt, "She has major abdominal bruising, lacerations and she'll need stitches," he glances at Maggie who stands to his left, "Page Natalie; update her and let her know which OR we'll be in, she'll need to do a sonogram. We need to see this baby!"

The wheels of the gurney start to move as they rush it down the hallway. Jay is close on their heels, Will following right behind, staying near the head of the gurney as his wife is pushed through the hospital. The swinging doors open and close with each person that enters and the rest as follows happens so fast: a mask is placed over her mouth and nose to supply her oxygen, IVs are hooked up to her arms and suddenly she's starting to crash.

"Hang in there sweetie," Maggie whispered, combing her fingers –covered with blue latex gloves- through her dirty blonde, speckled with blood, hair.

Dr. Rhodes shouted Code Blue. Jay didn't know a lot of medical jargon but he knew what that one meant.

Will finally, finally, snaps out of whatever haze he'd fallen into in order to help his brother. Jay needed him right now. It wasn't his time to react; it was his time to comfort. He gripped his brother's arm and tugged him towards the direction of the waiting room, "You shouldn't see this," his words fell on deaf ears because Jay kept watching, kept struggling against his brother's hold to get back to his wife's side, "She's in the best hands. Dr. Rhodes is amazing and Natalie will be here at any second and you know she won't let anything happen to your baby."

"I…" for the first time since Will approached him he spoke, "I can't just leave her." And Will probably would have preferred for him not to speak at all because the sound of his brother's voice, the pain, the defeat, the hurt, the ache in his tone was a punch to the gut.

"She won't be alone," Will tried to comfort his brother.

"I…" the tone of his voice remains, but now there's a far off look in his eye as he watches the doctor and nurses attempt to stabilize his crashing wife; it's been too long. She's been crashing too long. No matter how much it hurts to watch, Jay couldn't tear his eyes away, "I can't just leave her," he simply repeated his earlier remark and it was no less powerful than the first time.

"You shouldn't even be back here. Come on, we need to go to the waiting room."

Will tugged on his brother's arm, but Jay didn't follow. His feet were planted to the ground. The far off look in his eye scared him. He hadn't ever seen his brother like this before; not after their mother died, not after he came back from serving in the military and not after they had multiple run-ins with their father. This was a new look; this was a look brought out by this moment, by the assault that happened to his wife.

"Dr. Rhodes," Jay called out and wasn't surprised when the doctor didn't look his way; his wife kept his attention but it didn't stop him from making a very clear and assertive statement, "You better save her." And in a brief second, Dr. Rhodes looked up to meet the desperate eyes of his patient's husband and after an affirmative nod and a whispered promise, he got back to work.

He shouldn't have promised. You never promise. It's the first thing he learned in medical school and at residency. It's what was drilled into his head during his residency and fellowship.

Finally, after an excruciatingly long time, his wife was stabilized. Time was of the essence. They needed to immediately start surgery to see all of the internal damage the assault had caused and that specifically Jay knew he couldn't watch no matter how much he wanted to stay by her side. He allowed his brother to lead him away, to walk alongside him back to the waiting room where everyone on the team sat and waited and only rose to their feet at the sight of him.

"How is she?" Atwater was the only one emotionally strong enough to ask.

Jay didn't answer. He just gave an aggressive shrug because he didn't know. It was only the start to what's going to be a long surgery, -at least four hours.

"It's suspected that Erin has a brain bleed among other things but that's the biggest concern. As of right now, she's going to be taken to get a head CT scan and once that's complete then Dr. Rhodes will know for sure what needs to done to help Erin."

"I thought he was going to immediately start surgery," Jay spoke up and this time his voice was different; he sounded angry, heated, irked and irate, "Does Dr. Rhodes know what he's doing? If all the signs point to a brain bleed then it's probably a fucking brain bleed! The longer he waits to fix it then the worst it'll be for my wife!"

"Hey, hey," Will softly whispered, gripping his brother's shoulders to force him to face him, "I need you to know that Dr. Rhodes is one of the best. He's smart. He knows what he's doing. He doesn't want to just dive into surgery on a hunch; he needs to know what part of the brain is bleeding so he can treat it. Surgery is risky and he just wants to make sure he has all of his T's crossed off and all of his I's dotted. Erin is in safe hands."

4:52pm.

In all the time that has passed, all Jay knows is his wife had to be taken in for surgery. The CT scan proved what Dr. Rhodes had suspected. It had also shown him the location and size of the brain bleed and then anything after that fell on deaf ears because he couldn't bring himself to focus, to clear his mind and hear whatever else he had to say. It was just about the next step; they had estimated that the surgery would last no longer than five hours and no less than three. A few nurses had suggested he go home, clean up and rest but he couldn't bring himself to move, to leave the waiting room and the uncomfortable plastic hospital chairs that were made to manipulate people into leaving since they were so uncomfortable that no one would want to stay.

He didn't see it as a choice. He was staying. He couldn't leave until he knew for sure the two people who mean everything to him were going to be okay.

Natalie had only come out with one update, one measly, small update that meant nothing. It's too soon to tell. She'll know more on the baby's status once the surgery is finished. It's all touch and go from this point on but she does know the baby is still alive, whether or not the baby will survive this, she wouldn't say, she wouldn't promise, -not like Rhodes did earlier.

"I don't understand," Burgess spoke up, filling the isolated waiting room with her tired and weary voice, "Who would do this? And to Erin of all people?"

In all this time, Jay had managed to keep his mind off of that. He was too focused on the fact that his wife and child were back there in some sanitized room being operated on. He had forgotten, or he had simply been too distracted by them to focus on the fact that someone put her in this situation in the first place. This wasn't some freak car accident or an accidental fall. This appeared to be targeted. No one just assaults a pregnant woman without any type of motive.

With every curse word uttered under Kim's breath, Jay felt his heart rate increase and his hands ball into fists. Before he knew it, before he was able to control it, his hand slammed against the innocent end table and his foot kicked one of the plastic chairs. It caused a loud bang, loud enough to alert everyone in the waiting room to his rising anger.

"Whoever did this," he turns to face Hank, "whoever did this is going to pay, Voight. I swear on my life. I swear on everything and everyone I love that if I lose them…." He doesn't even finish his threat because everyone in the room gets where he's going with it. And Hank is the first one to agree; he feels the same way and he already has a burial space in mind for the transgressor.

Jay felt like he was going through every stage of grief –minus acceptance. He felt like they were on a constant cycle of repeat: denial, anger, bargaining and depression. The stages wouldn't always go in order. One point he'll be in denial about what happened and then jump straight to bargaining before going back to denial and then to depression and then anger and it was all a mess but he couldn't control himself. For a man who likes and cherishes order and control, he was lacking both right now. Jay kicked the same chair again, choosing this innocent piece of furniture to be the victim of his rising emotions rather than someone in the room.

"Halstead," he heard Al's voice; his voice sounded wrecked with a hint of frustration, "I know you're upset. You have every right to be, but you need to calm down and keep your head on straight. Erin wouldn't want you arrested for destruction of property. It's the last thing any of us need right now so relax, take a deep breath and relax."

That's easier said than done.

"You don't understand," Jay whispered in defeat.

"I think if there's anyone who does understand it's me and Voight," Olinsky retorted, arms crossed over his chest in defense, "we both loss our children."

"I'm losing my wife and my baby!" his voice sounds breathless; it's a choked up cry that threatens to come out but he won't allow it. He's afraid that once he opens up that emotional floodgate it won't stop pouring out.

"…they're still alive, Jay, they're still alive," it's Dawson who attempts to console his friend with a hand to the shoulder, "Erin's a fighter and that baby of yours has Lindsay and Halstead blood which means the baby will fight like hell too. They're going to be alright."

"With no help from us," Halstead spat, shoving Dawson's hand off his shoulder. He really shouldn't be burning his bridges right now but considering the situation, everyone expects this. His fluctuating mood isn't the furthest from normal, "She wanted to stay at the precinct but you sent her home," his eyes fell upon Voight who'd been unusually quiet throughout the whole ordeal, "he sent her home because all of you were complaining! She was pregnant," his voice cracked on that last word, "and none of you could handle a few mood swings! This is just as much your fault as it is mine!"

"It's no one's fault," Mouse interjected, making his way towards his closest friend, "it's especially not your fault. The only person that's to blame is the person who did this."

And Jay was prepared to counter that, to argue that she had pleaded to stay and they'd sent her home in the middle of a week day against her wishes. He had time to drag this debate out but the sight of two detectives walking into the waiting room had silenced him; it silenced all of them.

"Are you Jay Halstead?" One of them approached him and asked; he nodded and the detective continued, "I'm Detective Rixton and this is my partner Detective Upton, we've been assigned to your wife's case. We're here to ask you a few questions."

"We're going to work this case," Hank said through gritted teeth, "we're just waiting on word about Erin." The glare in his eye forced the detectives to take a step back, but they remained, they still stood their ground, just from a distance.

"I'm afraid that you all can't work the case," Hailey hesitantly informed. She heard about Voight. Actually every detective and precinct in Chicago has heard about Hank Voight and the rumors on what he did to the man responsible for his son's death.

Dawson was the calmest and he used that to his advantage, "Why not?"

The detectives' shoulders dropped, relaxing at the calm tone of the detective standing closest to them. It was Rixton who answered, "It's a conflict of interest. This is personal."

"You're damn right it's personal," Voight shouted, jumping to his feet; he wasn't going to take this sitting down –literally, "I raised her! She was practically one of my own! Have you seen her? Did you see what some sick fuck did to her?! We're going to find out who did this! And I swear, you two," he averts his eyes between the two of them, "better stay out of our way!"

Jay was team Hank Voight. He was always team Hank Voight especially when it came to this particular topic. He had energy built up. He had a whole lot of anger lying below the surface and he needed to exert it in some way that wouldn't require him cursing out every person that attempted to approach him or offer comfort. He wanted, no, he needed to work this case.

"Detective Halstead," at least Rixton had the respect to call him by his correct title, "according to the phone records on Ms. Lindsay's cell, we saw that you were the last one to speak to her."

"Mrs. Halstead…" Jay growled.

The heads of both detectives tilted sideways; their facial expressions practically begging for him to elaborate.

"She's my wife. She took my last name." That's all he said. That's all that was needed to be said.

They understood.

"Sorry," Rixton picked up from there, pulling out a notepad from his back pocket to jot down any significant information, "When you spoke to your wife, did she sound scared? What did the two of you talk about?"

Halstead had to take a moment to think; he couldn't recall. He couldn't remember. It was just conversation, nothing significant about it. Hindsight is 20/20 and if he knew that it would probably be the last conversation he would have had with her then he would have paid attention and he wouldn't have gotten off the phone whether they got a new case or not. He needs to remember, if not for the detectives, then for his peace of mind.

"She didn't sound scared," Jay whispered; he felt somewhat positive about that sentiment because he felt that if she did sound afraid, he wouldn't have gotten off the phone, "She was more irritated than anything. She was happy too. She was just experiencing a mix of a bunch of emotions but I just chalked it up to pregnancy hormones," he flopped down into one of the chairs, "Uh," he ran both of his hands through his short hair, "she was telling me what she was going to do when she got home and…and she was keeping me updated on her distance from our house," he closed his eyes in an effort to push him towards remembering, "Oh," his eyes shot open, "Oh, and she mentioned that a car in front of her was going to make her miss all the lights," and just as soon as the excitement filled his eyes, failure and hurt replaced it, "I laughed. I laughed when she said that. I just thought it was an elderly person driving or something going below the speed limit but what if it was the person who attacked her?!"

If Jay didn't blame himself before, he blamed himself even more so now. He laughed. He actually laughed. It wasn't hard, it was a little snicker, but he chuckled nonetheless. He shut his eyes in an effort to remember more and he knew that while the two detectives patiently waited for information, the team was listening too. Hank wasn't bluffing when he said they're still investigating the case. It went against orders from those ranked higher than their sergeant; none of them cared about the consequences that may befall them from going forward with this investigation. If they close this case, it'll be worth it.

Jay ran his hands down his face and inhaled a sharp breath. He needed an update on his wife and kid. He needed to remember more of the conversation. He needed to think. His eyes suddenly reopened when he thought a little too hard. He remembers that he rushed her off the phone and it sounded like she wanted to say something; "We got a new case," he exclaimed desperately, "I had to get off the phone because of it! I rushed her off! I hung up," his voice broke and his gaze drifted downwards, "Did I hang up on my wife the second before she was attacked?"

His question went unanswered.

"This attack had to be personal," Detective Upton said it more to her partner than to the other detectives in the room, "Detective Halstead," now she's addressing her next question towards the victim's spouse, "how are things between you and your wife?"

He gets automatically on the defensive.

"What do you mean? Why are you asking me that?" Jay sits up straight, eyes squinting and lips turning into a frown; "Things are fine between us…they're better than fine. She's my wife and we're expecting a baby together."

"Maybe I should elaborate on my question a little," Detective Upton said seconds before clarifying her earlier statement, "how were things between you and your wife before her attack or days leading up to her attack?"

"I don't like what you're suggesting," Burgess immediately got on the defensive.

Ruzek approached his friend, taking a protective stand beside him, "Whatever you're trying to insinuate just come out with it. We're all detectives here; we know what you're doing."

"Did you have anything to do with your wife's attack?"

"Are you fucking serious right now?" Jay hopped to his feet, causing the team to immediately move in to separate Halstead from the detectives, "I love my wife with every fiber of my being! I wouldn't do something like that! Why would I? What would I gain? To even entertain the thought of being responsible for what happened to my wife is killing me right now!"

"We're just trying to cover all of the bases," Detective Upton defended her question.

"Well," Kim growled, "you're wasting time barking up the wrong tree."

"Do you know if your wife had any enemies?"

If the detectives thought Jay was going to answer any more of their questions after that, they had another thing coming. He couldn't think. He simply shrugged in response to their question without giving it any true thought. If he did think of someone, he would share it with Voight.

"Alright," Rixton reached into the pocket of his jacket, "if you think of anything, anything at all, don't hesitate to call, even if you think it's small, call." Jay took the card in an effort to entertain the thought, but once the detectives walked away, he balled it up and shoved it into his pocket until he could find a trashcan to properly dispose of it later.

5:35pm.

Will left in search of an update. Jay was going crazy and he feared his brother may pace a hole into the floor. He needed to know something, anything, he just needed to know.

Since the detectives left, he hadn't been able to sit down. Hank stepped out to make a few phone calls and he sent Mouse back to the precinct to start working on their unassigned case. Jay increased his pace, arms crossed over his torso as he muttered under his breath and on repeat, "She shouldn't have been sent home."

Voight hadn't heard the first few times, but by the fifth, he picked up on it, "What was that?"

Jay came to a sudden stop. Everyone in the waiting room halted, hoping that Jay chose to pick his battles and this one he would choose not to fight. None of them were that lucky.

"I said she shouldn't have been sent home," Jay turned to face his boss, "You shouldn't have sent her home. We should have been more patient with her. She's pregnant; so what if we had to walk on eggshells around her?! That's the least we could do! We should have let her stay! I should have forced her…allowed her to stay with me!" His voice was so high in volume that it cracked, "But…but we didn't! We couldn't handle a few angry outbursts and a couple mean glares! Did you see her face?! Someone did that! Someone beat her up and didn't take any pity on her! She's a pregnant woman who couldn't defend herself!" His voice cracked again, "Whoever did this is a coward! When he's caught, put me in the cage with him for a few minutes! I swear…he'll regret the day that he touched my wife!"

On any other occasion, he would have been pissed; he would have probably put Jay on desk duty, but he granted the man a break. He was letting off a lot of built up tension and frustration. Al rose to his feet; he was also growing stir crazy and he needed to do something. There was no telling when the surgery would be over; there was no sign of an update coming any time soon. Al needed to channel his nervous energy into an investigation, "Hank, you and Jay stay here. Be with Lindsay when she wakes up. She's going to need it. Trust us to handle this case. This unit protects our own and if someone comes after one of us that means someone came after all of us."

"You can't leave," Voight muttered through gritted teeth, "not," he cleared his throat, "not until there's an update." Al had no intention of leaving until then. No one did, but it didn't mean they couldn't start brainstorming. It went without saying. Voight had to practically threaten Mouse to get him to go to the precinct just to get a head start on the investigation.

6:20pm.

Erin had crashed twice. That was the most recent report from Will, Natalie and Connor. She had flat lined, but they managed to bring her back and now she's stable, -unconscious, but stable. Jay struggled to pay attention as he listened to the list of injuries his wife endured.

Closed skull fracture, he heard. Fractured jaw, he swallowed hard; his throat is dry as he imagined them wiring it shut in an effort to heal the fracture. Two cracked ribs, he inhaled a sharp breath. Ruptured spleen, he felt someone force him into an uncomfortable hospital chair. Concussion, he leaned his head back against the wall and shut his eyes. He was forced to listen to the rest even though he didn't think he could handle it. A black eye, a busted lip, bruises and lacerations from the hits and from having her face dragged across the pavement. Stitches were applied to the side of her head, to her eyebrow and her jaw. Subdural hematoma and swelling of the brain were the last injuries listed and he found himself relieved to hear that.

He wouldn't have been able to handle hearing more.

Jay blinked away the tears in his eyes and stood. His brother remained close by to catch him if he grew too weak from the weighted conversation.

Voight remained levelheaded and calm enough to ask questions. He wanted to know more, he needed to know more. They couldn't just come out and list off a wide-range of injuries and not tell them the next step. Dr. Rhodes had to perform some type of burr-hole trephination to suction the excess blood out from the brain bleed. He wants to know when he can see his wife but the words fail to formulate; he wants to know if she's awake, if she's scared and wondering where he is. He knows she can't talk; her jaw would prevent that, but he needs to know if she knows he's here, if she knows he hasn't left the hospital, if she knows he's worried sick.

Hank must have read his mind because he asks the million dollar question and the response from Dr. Rhodes was unexpected. He said something about, medically inducing her into a coma because of swelling in the brain. Everything became sort of a blur; he could hear but it felt like he couldn't see. He's staring straight ahead, eyes not focused on anything in particular, but his ears zero in on the conversation around him. Dr. Rhodes is explaining why he made the medical decision to induce her into a coma. He said something along the lines of allowing the brain to rest which raises the possibility of a decrease in swelling. When swelling is relieved, pressure on the brain reduces which will prevent future brain damage. Shutting down function of the brain gives the brain time to heal without the body executing radical triage by shutting off blood flow to the injured areas of her body.

A medically induced coma is reversible. Jay has to remind himself of that. She didn't slip into a coma and may possibly never wake up; no, that's not what happened. The doctors are in control here and they took this route for a reason. She's on a lot of medication right now. Jay can't even imagine what she's taking. He knows she should be taking more but because of the baby, she can't. She won't be induced for longer than two weeks because then it'll do more harm than good. He couldn't wait two weeks. He needed her now; she needed him.

Jay needed to see his wife and someone had either sensed that or he managed to say it out loud because before he knew it, he was being led down the hallway towards the ICU. The team was following close behind. He didn't have it in him to turn them away. He steps inside. The room feels smaller than its actual size because there are so many machines hooked up to her, keeping her alive, keeping their baby alive. She has bruises all up and down her legs. He's pretty sure they cover her torso too, but he feels he's too much of a coward to check. She has tubes and wires inserted into her mouth, her nose and the back of her hands. He notes the monitor hooked up to her that tracks her and the baby's heartbeat.

"How's my baby?" Jay finds his voice. He's staring at the machine when he sees Natalie approach it.

"The baby is in distress," Natalie didn't want to be the bearer of more bad news, but it was one of the downsides to her job. Her heart went out to him. She had a kid of her own. She couldn't imagine what he's going through right now.

Halstead senses there's more and because there is she asks everyone to step out of the room. No one argues, but Will stays behind when his brother's eyes meet his own in silent pleading.

"Safe pre-term labor is at least 35 weeks. Full term labor is 40 weeks. Women typically deliver around the 37th week," Natalie's filling his head with information he finds useless right now, "Erin is only 32 weeks right now and that in combination with the extensive trauma she received has us worried about the baby." Natalie doesn't take her eyes off the monitor. She forces herself to stare at the screen as she continues to deliver upsetting news, "Erin lost a lot of blood and the baby has been in distress since the attack. If the baby continues to remain in distress then we'll be forced to deliver, but with all surgeries, there is a risk and as her husband, you'll be the one to make that decision," she's still staring at the monitors, willing it to change and show her some good numbers. It doesn't. She's not that powerful.

Jay turns around to face her, "I don't understand." He manages to find his voice again. He has to stay strong; he has to for Erin and for his baby.

"We can wait it out and keep an eye on the baby's heart rate, but there is a chance the baby may go into v-fib. If that happens then by the time we deliver it may be too late. The baby can die, but mom should be okay," Natalie sucked in a hard breath before releasing it, "or we can take your wife into the delivery room and perform a C-section. She's lost a lot of blood already and we gave her a transfusion. She also just underwent major surgery so her body is weak. Mom could die, but baby's chance at survival is higher than if we wait it out."

"Those are my options," his words come out in question form, forcing Natalie to sympathetically nod her head; he shakes his in return, "I can't. I can't make that decision," tears prick his eyes; he can't breathe, "Erin," he looks to his wife, he knows she won't wake up but that doesn't stop him from trying, "I need to talk to her! Wake her up, please, I can't make this decision!"

6:55pm.

Jay had stormed outside the moment he realized that they wouldn't wake Erin up for her to make the decision. He didn't want that power; it was her body, it should be her choice. He shouldn't make it for her; it wasn't right. Halstead inhales a breath of fresh air before releasing it in sputtered exhales. He couldn't do this. Why was this happening to him? To them?

It felt like every fiber of his being was being torn apart. It felt like someone reached into his chest, pulled out his heart and crushed it in their bare hands. Jay couldn't see a life without them.

"You don't have to make any decisions right now."

Jay took a seat on the curb and Voight joined him. Both men sat side by side, shoulders touching as they stared forward, listening to the sounds of rush hour traffic.

"Have you heard from the detectives?" It was obvious he didn't want to talk about this right now.

Hank picked up on it and he happily obliged with the subject change, "No, but the team left a few minutes ago to start the investigation. They assume we're going to stay at the hospital, but we can't," Jay nods in full agreement, "we're going to conduct our own investigation."

Halstead cleared his throat, "We need," his voice sounded so weak; it didn't even sound like it belonged to him, "we need to get an officer to guard her room…just in case."

"It's already done," Hank pat his knee before rising to his feet, "I've called for two."

7:15pm.

It seems everyone was thinking the same thing because they all ended up back at the crime scene. Al should have known they wouldn't be staying at the hospital. He should have known they wouldn't be able to not involve themselves.

Forensics had already photographed the multiple crime scenes; they already collected evidence. It was an officer that was hurt, a pregnant one at that. This case became top priority. The forensics team left nothing at the crime scene, which is good, but it gave them nothing to go on.

"Erin was dumped here," Atwater stated, pointing towards the blood pool soaking into the dirt, grass and leaves. Someone dumped her there like an animal. "But, where was she dumped from?" Atwater points up the hill and the team starts to climb.

The climb up strained their calves. Some of them regretted it because it was so steep; they figured they should have just taken the trail and walked around the long way, but this saved time and they could handle a few burning limbs if it meant getting closer to Lindsay's attacker. As Jay climbed up, all he could envision was Erin rolling down, being cut with branches and sticks, her body soaking up the mud, hitting the trees before landing with a hard impact. He was torturing himself. He should have been with her.

"The original crime scene," Jay whispered, staring at Lindsay's car, "does forensics know about this?" Everyone shrugged. It wasn't forensics job to investigate and ask questions; it was their job to provide scientific evidence to back up their accusations.

"She was dragged," Dawson whispered, pointing towards the trail of blood spatter leading from her car and towards the top of the hill, "No phone around." Well that answered their question about forensics; they did find the original crime scene and they must have taken her phone in for evidence. It was how the detectives knew Jay was the last person she spoke to.

"No skid marks," Voight notes aloud, "No broken glass. Her keys are still in the ignition. No signs of forced entry into her vehicle," he approaches it closely and scans it, "slashed tire," he sighs and corrects his last statement, "slashed tires. Someone was targeting her. This was planned. This was an ambush."

"The car is still here and her purse and phone are in evidence. This wasn't a robbery or a carjacking," Adam added, glancing over his shoulder to take in Jay's appearance. The guy was physically here but mentally he was someplace else, probably at the hospital, "Jay," he snaps out of his reverie when Ruzek calls his name, "does Erin have any enemies that you know of?"

"…other than the criminals we put away," he whispered, staring down at the amount of blood on the pavement. He couldn't look away. He couldn't even blink. It's his wife's blood.

If it was possible for Jay's heart to break even more, it's done it. He must be setting the world record for the amount of heart breaks a person can have in such a short amount of time. His wife was ambushed, she was beat, she was dragged and she was dropped off a hill to land at the bottom of the forest. Someone disposed of her like she was trash.

"Burgess, call Mouse," Voight ordered, "see if he can pull up Erin's call logs. I want to see if she's been talking to anyone recently. This attack was personal; she knows who hurt her."

7:39pm.

Halstead had just gotten off the phone with his brother. He hadn't been gone long but he wanted to know if there were any changes. Will didn't complain. He expects it. And he knows his brother will be calling regularly every few minutes until he can find some peace in his heart. It didn't help that he was being pushed and pressured into making a decision. The team of doctors needed to know what to do.

The team was back in the unit and after he hung up the phone, he joined them at Mouse's desk. A call log was up and majority of the calls made to and from her cell were from him or someone from the team, but there was one number that stood out. It was a number that popped up multiple times on her call log and according to the minutes beside the number, she'd spoken to the person for at least three to five minutes each time.

"Was there any update on Lindsay?" Voight knew the answer to that question but he still couldn't help but to ask. It's been less than an hour since their last update, of course, there was no news. Jay only answered with the pout of his lips and the down turn of his head.

"Does this number look familiar to you, Jay?" Dawson switches the conversation back and Jay appreciates it. He would rather lose himself in solving this case than worrying over something he has no control over. He needs to make a decision. He can't.

Instead, he reads the number aloud to himself once and then twice before shrugging, "I'm sorry," he feels useless, "I don't know whose number that is."

Kim rubs his back, "That's okay, Jay." She was just trying to reassure him. It didn't work.

"No, it's not okay Kim! I need to help her, we all do, but it's out of our control," he knocks her hand off of him but she doesn't take it personal. He's going through a lot right now.

Jay didn't know any of this was happening. His wife was having brief conversations with a number, lasting no more than five minutes. The number always called her. It was always incoming. She never called it. This number called her an excessive amount of times. More than 30 times a day…and Jay never knew. Mouse loads up one of the softwares granted towards law enforcement and he carefully types the number in to make sure he didn't get any digit wrong. It immediately loads up. Thankfully it's registered and it doesn't belong to a burner phone.

Annie Pugliese

Mouse glances at deleted voicemails; it wasn't offered to him through the app, but he still had a few skills from back then during his hacker days. He loaded them up. It was from Annie to Erin; they met for lunch a few days ago, this week. And that's all it takes for Jay to see black, grab a set of keys and head off in the direction of the garage. Hank shouts orders towards Atwater and Ruzek, choosing to send them to the restaurant Erin and Annie went to for lunch as he jogs off to catch up to a fuming Jay.

8:00pm.

Jay had pounded on the door, demanding to be let in. His fist was tight and with each knock, the fragile, wooden door shook on its hinges. He didn't have a warrant, but he wasn't against storming in to demand answers. His feet glued to the spot, planted firmly on the concrete ground with determination written across his face. He wasn't leaving, -not until Annie answered. He raised the side of his feet, beating it against the door so hard that his hand was starting to turn red. He didn't care. He needed answers.

Doors from the other units started to open up with her neighbors sticking their heads out into the hallway to see who was causing all the ruckus. Voight flashed his badge and many of them went scampering back into their apartments probably because they either had warrants out for their arrest, were high or were probably committing some type of offense and none of them wanted trouble from the police.

"Are you sure we're at the right place?" Voight's gruff voice filled the hall.

"I'm positive," Jay asserted, hand continually beating against the door, "it's the address Mouse sent us. It's right. He wouldn't send us the wrong one." Voight wasn't saying that; he wasn't hinting towards it. He just thought maybe they had read it wrong or got the apartment number mixed up. Voight approached the door, one hand hovering above his holstered weapon as the other joined Jay's in its quest to either beat the door down or knock so hard that Annie would realize they weren't going away.

Hank had stepped back seconds later to allow his gaze to drift downwards. He saw a shadow beneath the crack under the door. She's standing directly on the other side. Hank tapped Jay's shoulder and pointed downward; he caught the hint, "Let us in Annie. We know you're in there."

A muffled throat clearing was heard on the other side, "What do you want?"

"Open the door and we'll tell you," Jay retorted, raising his fist to prepare to continue knocking.

"I haven't done anything illegal," was her response. She was nervous. Why was she nervous?

"Annie," Voight finally spoke up, moving towards the peephole of the door, knowing she was watching them from the other side, "if you don't open this door we're going to knock it down. It's up to you how this goes, but regardless of your decision, we're coming inside."

Seconds, that felt like hours had passed before they heard the sound of multiple locks unlocking before being followed by the door swinging open. Jay's fist was still midair, prepared to knock again, but Annie had answered, "What's going on?"

Jay pushed the door open wider and walked inside. Voight is closely following on his heel. He is granting Halstead the lead on questioning Annie. She grows automatically on the defense, "Travis," she calls to her teenage son who was lounging on the couch playing video games, "go to your room." The boy grumbled to himself before tossing his game controller onto the coffee table and rising up to casually stroll towards his bedroom. He'll probably be eavesdropping. Annie waits; she waits until she hears the sound of her son's bedroom door closing before she swings around to face them, "Whatever it is, I didn't do it!"

"You don't even know why we're here!" Jay argued; his emotions were taking over. Voight feared that reason would go out the window for the both of them and neither was in the right state of mind to bring the other back.

On their ride over, Atwater and Ruzek had called them to update them on their brief conversation with the waiter who served Erin and Annie. The waiter didn't think he would remember them, but one glance at the face of a battered Lindsay on the cell phone of Ruzek had jogged up all of his subconscious thoughts. He remembered her; he remembered both of them. They made a scene in the restaurant resulting in Annie shoving the waiter to the side as she stormed away.

"I don't know why you're here, but I don't have to answer to you," they note her defensiveness, "I have been behaving! So what's with the fucking disturbance?! I've done nothing wrong. I just returned to Chicago a few weeks ago, what trouble could I have possibly gotten into already?!"

"Erin…" Jay answered; his voice was low and a bit unsteady. He had flashes of her in the hospital. Her face, all the tubes, the bruising and the fractures kept flashing through his mind on repeat like brief five second clips of a slideshow. He needed to find out who did this.

He needed to work off some anger once he found out.

"What about her?" Annie crossed her arms over her chest; she's growing even more defensive.

"A few days ago, the two of you had lunch," Voight picked up on the questioning because Jay kept getting distracted. Who could blame him though?

"Last time I checked it wasn't illegal to have lunch with an old friend…" she retorted and Hank found himself not liking this girl even more. She's such a smartass. A lightbulb metaphorically went off in her head because she dropped her arms from her chest and grabbed her hips, "I get it now," she smirked, stepping towards the two of them, "I know why you're here."

Hank and Jay highly doubt it.

"Why are we here?" the two of them surprised themselves by asking the question in unison.

Erin's case wasn't on the news. He didn't know who was responsible for granting them privacy during this time but Jay was grateful for that. He knew if the vultures got wind of this brutal attack, they would be swarming the crime scene, the hospital and the district all searching for answers that nobody has.

"You came to threaten me to stay away from her," Annie said smugly.

"Wrong," Jay took an intimidating step forward and out of instinct she took one back, "The two of you went out for lunch a few days ago. The waiter said there was some sort of disagreement and it had gotten pretty loud. What was that about?" He surprised himself with how he managed to remain even-keeled. He needed to get back to the hospital. He needed to call his wife's doctor.

He had to make an impossible decision.

Annie dryly chuckled; that rubbed the both of them the wrong way.

"Friends always have disagreements and argue. We're old friends and the both of you know that already. We were just catching up."

Jay had caught the words old friends. He knew that wasn't true, or at least that's not what Erin led him to believe. He didn't like Annie. He didn't trust her. And when Erin cut all ties with her, both Jay and Hank had found celebration in that. It appears to have been short-lived.

"Erin and her baby are in critical condition," Voight interjected before Jay had a chance to proceed, "they're both fighting for their lives."

"And you think I was responsible?" She immediately goes back on the defensive. She doesn't ask about the status of his wife and child. It seems her priority is protecting herself. She doesn't even bat an eye; she's not surprised. Jay mentally notes that as she continues, "You think I would actually hurt Erin? Seriously, Jay? She was the only person who was there for me! Why would I hurt her? What reason would I have to do that to her?" Annie's working herself up, Jay notes. She's starting to cry but the tears don't appear genuine.

"Jealousy," Jay listed the motive.

And she chuckled at that; she emitted a loud, dry and drawn out laugh, "You don't know what you're talking about, Jay. I'm not jealous of her? Why would I be?"

"…because she's successful," he starts to reason, "because she's married to a man who truly loves her," his gaze falls towards her ring finger where a ring sat only a few months ago, "because she's expecting a baby that was planned," his line of sight flashed towards the door that Travis closed behind him, "because she's employed, she's an admirable detective, she has people who love and care for her, she's respected and she managed to make something of herself despite the circumstances outside of her control. Should I continue?"

"I would never hurt Erin no matter how jealous I may be of her!" Annie exclaimed, pinching the bridge of her nose, "You have to believe me! I had nothing to do with that! I wouldn't hurt her and I for sure as hell wouldn't hurt an innocent baby!"

Voight stepped forward, sensing the tone and atmosphere in the room growing at an exponential rate. This was all going to escalate if he didn't take control, if he didn't get involved. Surprisingly, he remained the calm one out of the two. Someone had to remain levelheaded and that someone that stepped up to be that person was Voight, "Last time I checked with Erin, the two of you weren't on speaking terms."

When Charlie was released from prison, he and Annie rekindled their interest in one another and it led to a shotgun wedding which only led to a falling out between Annie and Erin. They hadn't spoken since the wedding which was two years ago.

"After my separation from Charlie, I decided to reach out."

Jay rolled his eyes at that, "You've been calling her excessively."

"She wasn't picking up," Annie defended her actions.

"You could have left a voicemail," Hank offered the alternative.

"When she did start answering, you continued to call," Jay pointed out, thinking back to the call logs Mouse had brought up online, "Why is that?"

"I wanted us to meet for lunch but it took some convincing."

Jay sighed and shook his head, "So, what you're telling me is that you called and harassed her over and over again until she agreed to meet with you?"

"I didn't say that."

"Yes or no, Annie?" Hank retorted, struggling to keep the building rage within him.

"Yes," she pouted.

"You called her over 30 times a day!" Jay shouted, noticing Annie flinch at the tone of his voice.

"I really wanted to apologize in person! She was right! She deserved to hear that!"

Annie has no alibi. She has nothing left to say. She hints towards that by walking over to the door, opening it and nodding for them to leave her home. Voight walks out first. Jay hesitates at the doorway, "Don't leave town."

"Don't come back to my home," Annie growled, gripping the doorknob tighter, "and if you have any more questions, contact my lawyer," she slammed the door behind him.

Hank and Jay stood in the hallway, staring at one another. Both of them sighed before Voight muttered, "I doubt she can even afford a decent lawyer."

Jay wanted to laugh but there was no joy, no enjoyment, no pleasure and no amusement inside of him. He felt empty. He felt blank. It was hard for him to feel anything with his wife and kid on the brink of death. His cell phone rang just as Voight went to phone Dawson, "How is she?" it's his brother on the phone and he skips all greetings and gets straight to the point.

"She's stable. She's still in a medically induced coma. We'll know the extent of her injuries and if there's any lasting head trauma when she wakes up."

"And what about the baby?" Jay asks just as Hank hangs up and walks over.

"He's fine," the gender slipped from Will's mouth; Jay's heart pounded at the realization.

"…he?"

"Jay, I'm so sorry!" Will exclaimed; the guilt that he felt from the slip up was immense. He knew that his brother and Erin wanted to be surprised; they wanted to find out together and he unintentionally took that away from them.

8:39pm.

Dr. Rhodes and Dr. Manning need an answer within the hour. He's only delaying the inevitable but he can't decide. He cannot make the decision alone. It was too much power for one man to wield; to feel like you're choosing between two lives is the work of a higher power not a mere man. He didn't want that type of responsibility, that type of guilt that would come from choosing. He knows his wife but he still wanted her to wake up, to help him.

That thought made him feel selfish.

He wants her to wake up to take the burden of making a decision off of him. What kind of a husband is he? What kind of a father is he? He wants to choose his wife, but he felt that only reflected on him being a bad parent before the kid was even born. He wanted his wife; he needed her. He couldn't go on without her. But, he knew if he chose her and the baby died, she would never forgive him. That, he knew for a fact.

Jay stood at her bedside after deciding to have Voight drop him off on the way back to the district. He needed to be with her, just in case. He's holding her hand, being extra cautious so he doesn't disturb the wires and tubes keeping her alive. He starts to break down again, feeling this overwhelming ball of tension build up in his chest before suddenly releasing a waterfall of emotions. He leaned forward, eyeing the bandages and bruises and he carefully, with as much caution as possible, he caressed her cheek. He needed the contact.

He kissed her lips. He needed the intimacy.

"Babe," he whispered; his lips resting against her own, "I need you to wake up," he begged; he wasn't above dropping to his knees and bargaining his pride and dignity if it meant he could look into her hazel eyes again, "I really need you to be okay. I need," he mentally kicks himself; here he goes being selfish again talking about what he needs, "You need me to love you for eternity and I will. You need me to catch the person or people responsible for this and I promise. You need me to put my feelings aside and make a logical decision in regards to you and our baby and I…" his voice breaks on that last word; he sucks in a large breath and attempts to try again, "I'm not sure I can do that. I'm trying to think rationally here, Er, but it's so damn hard to do that when you're hurt, when you can possibly die. I can't think clearly when I'm actually watching my heart deteriorate in front of my eyes! I need you. The baby needs you. Our son," his voice cracks on the last word, "needs you."

Jay silently flopped down into the plastic chair near her bedside; his shoulders hunched over and a vibration so powerful that it scared him had reverberated through his body. He felt his throat tighten. He felt his eyes gaze away, focusing on the tiled floors. He inhaled a short intake of breath before sputtering it out, "I can't do this without you."

He was afraid to clarify what he meant by using the word it. He couldn't voice it. What couldn't he do without her: be a parent to their son, be a detective assigned a new partner or to actually breathe, live and function in this world? What couldn't he voice to her? He was too scared to reflect on that to know for sure.

Halstead reached for her hand, drawing it up to his mouth to pepper kisses all over it, "Er," Jay's voice is choking up; he can barely see her because the tears in his eyes make his vision cloudy, "I should have been with you," his voice cracks, "I…I should have done something. I could have done something!" He knows she wouldn't want him blaming himself, but he couldn't help it.

This isn't how their story is supposed to end.

Jay rises to his feet. He's never been the prayer type of guy but he felt like he was at his lowest point, his rock bottom and that led him out of her room, down the hall and into the hospital chapel. He didn't have much power, but if some of his friends were right then prayer was a way to reach the all-powerful. He grabbed a tea-candle and used one of the already lit candles to light his own. His eyes shut as he sat it down with the many array of other lit candles. Each one represented a person fighting for their lives; each one told a story that Jay found himself curious about. He backed away and sat down on the pew, staring forward at the blaze of candles in the dimly lit room. He shuts his eyes, bows his head and clasps his hands together.

Halstead needs her to wake up. He needs guidance when making this huge decision. He needs answers to who did this and why they did it. He needed so much. He was stuck.

He saw Dr. Rhodes and Dr. Manning enter and he knew they were waiting for a decision. He was torn. He didn't have one. His brother appeared behind them, excusing himself through his two colleagues to approach him without a word. He appreciated that. Will quietly took a seat beside his brother and wrapped his arm around his shoulders to silently tell him that he isn't alone. If it was possible, Jay loved his brother more than he did in all his life.

"Do you need more time?" Will had whispered it into his ear, while slyly waving Connor and Natalie away. Jay gave a silent nod in an effort to answer, "Okay then, they'll give you more."

Jay was royally screwed when it came to making a well-informed decision. He knew if he chose Erin, she'll never forgive him and if he chooses the baby, he'll never forgive himself.

9:25pm.

Hank sits in his black truck; he couldn't bring himself to leave after dropping Jay off. He sits out front, to the side of the emergency drop off. His phone is connected to the speakers in his car and Olinsky has been taking charge of the team, directing who needs to go where and do what in an effort to give his boss a little break. Voight hadn't had a moment to himself, a moment to process what happened, a moment to reflect and a moment to let those emotions come forward.

He's burying them, -on purpose. He has every intention of releasing them when the bastard who did this is caught.

"What do you think about Annie?" Al had asked and based on the tone of his voice, it's clear to Hank that this isn't the first time he asked that question.

"Uh," Voight turned off the ignition in his car and leaned back in his driver's seat, "She has motive. She had the advantage, the opportunity and the upper hand. She doesn't have an alibi."

"Do you honestly think Annie could do something like that? Physically, I mean." Al clarified.

"You'd be surprised what people are capable of doing when fueled by jealousy and rage."

A silence befalls them. Al knows Hank isn't on his way back to the district despite what he said when dropping Jay off. He has known Hank long enough to read between the lines, to know that he's probably sitting somewhere by himself as his thoughts take over. Olinsky wanted to comfort his friend, but he knows the only comfort that Voight needs is for Erin to be okay and he had absolutely no control over that. The second type of comfort, Al could help with; he could help find the person responsible. He has to find the person before the detectives who were placed on the case found them. If he did, he could grant Jay and Hank a reprieve, a type of healing that most family members want but are unable to get when a loved one is violently victimized.

"We're not ruling her out," Voight stated, leaving no room for question, "I know I can't take charge on this, but at this point, any and everyone who had so much as a disagreement with her or didn't like her is a suspect in my eyes. Annie had the motive and the opportunity; she's our only suspect for now so we're going to keep a tight leash on her. She's bound to mess up."

Al had covered the bottom of the mouthpiece to make an announcement. He sent Dawson and Burgess to Annie's house, telling them to trail her if she decides to leave and especially warning them to keep their distance to make sure she didn't grow suspicious of their stakeout. Al had directed Mouse to look into any criminals connected to Lindsay that have been recently released from prison. He's looking into any and all individuals who may have had a grudge against her.

"She's not allowed to leave Chicago…" Voight whispered, gaze unfocused and staring forward.

"I don't think she will," Olinsky adds reason; "She doesn't have the means or the money to just up and go. Her life is here. Her home is here. Her kid is here." It made sense.

"All of those phone calls from Annie," Hank started, voice gruffer than it usually is, "she said it was because she wanted to meet Erin for lunch to apologize to her in person."

Olinsky had questions pertaining to that and fortunately enough; Hank had guessed them and proceeded to answer every question before Al even had the chance to ask. Voight wanted to go back into the hospital, but he also wanted to give Jay some time alone with his wife. He knows how important those moments are, when your wife, the love of your life is fighting for their life, every single second and minute was cherished. Hank was granting Jay those moments.

"How are she and the baby doing?" Olinsky found himself asking the second they were done updating each other on the information they've discovered. The last piece of input was provided by Al when he informed Hank that everyone's reaching out to their CI's to see if there's been any whispered, underground talk about the attack. No one just plans to hurt a detective, a woman of law enforcement and Hank Voight's foster daughter without anyone knowing. Someone had to know something, any little detail will help and the added bonus of informing the CI's that it'll make Hank Voight happy provided further incentive. Everyone should want a Hank Voight on their side when things got tough and the informants all know that; it's why they didn't request a monetary reward; Hank Voight's loyalty was payment enough.

"Last update I got said they were stable," Hank said, lacking conviction in his utterance, "but…uh, it was almost an hour ago so anything could have changed."

9:52pm.

Jay wasn't a doctor; he knew very little about medical procedures, jargon and treatment, but for some reason, that didn't stop him from examining his wife with his own eyes. He looked at each bruise, he lifted the bandage and took a peek at every cut, he ran his gaze over the metal that wired her jaw shut and his gaze eventually landed on the streaks of blood that dyed patches of her hair. And the sad part about it, the part that breaks his heart when it goes through his mind is every injury he took in was visible to the naked eye; he couldn't imagine the injuries that lay beneath the skin and bone, the injuries that only an x-ray or an CT scan can show.

"She's strong," Mouse asserted, stepping into the hospital room. Jay took a quick step back as if he was doing something wrong and had been caught.

"I know she is," he whispered, gaze falling down to the floor, "but I don't think I am."

Mouse had grabbed another plastic chair and dragged it over to Erin's bed. On his shoulder hung a laptop bag and after he positioned the chair, he sat the bag down onto the floor and leaned it against the leg of the chair. Jay was confused, especially when Mouse squeezed Erin's hand and then sat down and pulled the laptop out of the bag and onto his lap.

"What are you doing here?"

He should have expected that question, but he didn't, at least that much was obvious by the surprised look on Mouse's face, "Uh, I heard the boss talking to Olinsky and I know you Jay, I know you're torturing yourself right now and you feel alone and I came to make sure you weren't. I came to sit by Erin's side if you needed to go back out into the field," Jay appreciated that last part because the guilt of leaving her alone for too long was immeasurable, "I came because I'm able to work from anywhere. I brought a work-issued laptop with me so I can do all I need to do from this spot right now. There's a vending machine down the hall and there's a restroom down the other end; everything I need is right here."

Halstead appreciated that more than he could say; there weren't enough words in the English language that would adequately tell his friend, his brother in arms, that he loved and appreciated him. Words wouldn't do it, but actions seemed to step up and try. Jay pulled his friend into a hug, his strong muscles wrapped around Mouse's shorter frame, only for a suppressed cry to be released the second his friend rubbed his back and reassured him that Erin was going to be okay and because their baby has DNA from the both of them, he was going to be perfectly okay too.

Jay only needed to believe it.

Mouse heard his laptop ping and he withdrew himself from the hug. Jay quickly wiped his eyes and stared down at the laptop bag, "I was running a program to search cases that Erin spearheaded to see if there were any convictions or recent releases," Mouse took a seat and pulled the laptop out, "I'm running Erin's name through the database and I was hoping something would get flagged or another name would pop up to at least give me someone else to run besides her," the laptop continued to ping after searching for the identified words he typed into the search engine as it scanned through Erin's record, "Call Voight and Olinsky."

"Did you find something?" Jay asked while simultaneously pulling out his cell phone. He dialed Hank first and then Al right after before placing the three-way phone call on speaker, "Mouse said he found something! He wanted me to call y'all."

"What is it?" Al asked, placing his own phone on speaker so the rest of the team could hear.

"Charlie Pugliese," Mouse asserted, pupils averting side to side as he quickly read the document.

"He's legally separated from Annie. When they were younger, he used to run the block, manipulated Erin and he blackmailed her at one point," Jay summarized him for the members of the team that didn't know all the details, "he went back to prison a few years ago for a sting operation he wanted Erin to cover up for him. She didn't." As Jay spoke aloud, the motive became clearer and clearer, -revenge.

"Send us his address or where we can find him, whether work or his kid's school, send us places and we'll divide up to find him and bring him back here for questioning," Al ordered. Mouse nodded to indicate he heard him even though he wasn't seen by Olinsky.

Jay remained quiet. He would have been the first person to volunteer to go out in search of Charlie, but his friend's silence kept him quiet. There was something else.

"What else is it, Mouse?"

He swallowed at the waver in Jay's voice before answering, "Lindsay has a restraining order out against him." And by the silence on the phone and the look in Jay's eyes, it's obvious that no one knew this major detail in Erin's life.

10:35pm.

It did not take long at all for Charlie Pugliese to be found. He was located at his old hangout spot, -it seems he hasn't learned a lesson from his multiple incarcerations. It was Dawson and Burgess who picked him up and brought him in when they realized they were close to one of the many addresses that Mouse had sent. It seems he doesn't have a permanent residence. He's a floater, a drifter of some sort that goes couch to couch and abandoned warehouse to abandoned warehouse, but with the combined efforts of Mouse's hacking abilities and a few CI's who noticed him near the Silos, they had eventually found him.

Olinsky wouldn't let Hank or Jay in the room. Mouse stayed with Erin, promising to send Jay text updates every half an hour or more if things started to change.

"Why am I here?" Charlie asked, propping his feet up onto the interrogation room table; his legs were crossed at the ankles. He seemed so smug. Jay watched from the other side of the mirror, fighting against every urge to shatter it, hop through and knock that smirk right off his face.

"I'm pretty sure you know exactly why you're here," Dawson retorted, knocking Charlie's legs off the table before slamming a manila folder down directly in front of him, "Erin Lindsay."

"What about her?"

"Why does she have a restraining order against you?"

Charlie actually laughed at the reminder, "…because she's a bitch and a coward who's too afraid to fight her own battles and needed the court to get involved to do so."

"Why does she have a restraining order against you?" Dawson repeated his earlier question. He can only imagine the rage that is probably simmering at the pit of Voight and Halstead's stomach as they force themselves to remain on the other side of the glass. They wanted to save that anger for the person responsible; they needed cold, hard facts to prove and release it.

"I paid her a couple of visits," Charlie shrugged it off as if it was no big. He was being difficult on purpose. He wasn't going to make this easy.

"What were the visits about?"

Charlie shrugged again, "I don't remember. Why don't you go ask Erin?"

Jay felt his heart racing. He felt himself walk towards the door, prepared to leave out the room and storm into the interrogation room. Olinsky and Dawson weren't getting answers by playing nice; he needed to be roughed up a bit and shown that Erin Lindsay was off limits. Unfortunately, before he could do that Atwater stepped in his way; it was obvious that Hank wasn't going to stop him. If anything, he may have joined in. Atwater sent them back to the mirror as if he was in charge; he was right though and after a few shared sentences, Jay realized that and dragged his feet back to the mirror.

"Where were you today around 3'olock?" Olinsky asked, watching Charlie's brow rise. He dropped that last source of questioning; he'll get Mouse to look into it.

"…minding my business," he was making things difficult on purpose.

"Do you have an alibi?" Dawson followed-up his question with a clarification, "an alibi that can be verified."

"I have three actually."

A yellow legal pad was slammed down in front of him, followed by a pen being tossed his way.

Olinsky nodded towards the pad of paper, "Get to writing. We want names, numbers and all addresses they can be found."

As Charlie started writing an eerie silence fell over the room. It was too quiet so Dawson started to anxiously tap his foot as Olinsky began to pace circles around the interrogation room. Soon enough, it was Al who vocalized his thoughts, "What happened to you?" Charlie briefly looked up from writing to meet Olinsky's gaze, "I thought after you served your time you were going to get your head on right. Now you're back out in the streets, hustling, dealing drugs probably and who knows what else? What happened to you?"

Charlie directed his glare towards the two-way mirror, knowing that Voight and Halstead were most likely watching since this case revolved around Erin. He clicked the pen and slammed it down onto the legal pad, "I lost my job thanks to Erin. I lost my source of income. I lost my wife because of Erin, I got her and thanks to Erin, I lost her again! I lost everything because of her!"

From the two-way mirror, Jay notes his words, filing them all in a compartment in his brain that's unofficially designated to this case.

"That sounds like a motive," Dawson asserted, nodding towards the pad, "Are you done?"

"Are we done?" Charlie restated Dawson's question towards him, "Am I being charged with something or can I leave?" He's continually being difficult on purpose.

"Don't leave town," Olinsky didn't exactly answer the question but he gave a warning, -one that implied an underlying threat if he went against it.

Charlie rose to his feet and stretched his arms, glancing at the mirror one last time before approaching it. He's been in trouble and he's watched enough television to know that they're watching him through it, "Good luck trying to prove your case," unbeknownst to him, he's directly facing Jay, "You have no evidence; no proof. I have three strong alibis that are airtight and the only person who could ever pin me to this crime, -whether I did it or not- is Erin and she's currently out of commission at the moment so good luck with that and I'll be leaving," he winked at the detectives through the glass, "and please, give Erin my best of wishes."

Atwater and Ruzek had physically placed their bodies in front of the door to prevent Jay and Hank from leaving while Charlie was still there. They overlooked the threats from Voight about losing their job and they ignored the threats from Jay involving physical aggression all for the sole purpose of protecting their boss and friend from themselves. Charlie was working them up, and getting under their skin. And once Atwater and Ruzek were positive that Charlie was long gone, they stepped out of the way to allow them to leave and enter the interrogation room.

Halstead went straight for the legal pad, snatching it out of Dawson's hands in order to take a look at it himself. His eyes read the names, glaring holes into each letter that Charlie wrote down. Charlie was right. They didn't have much evidence. They didn't have many things to go on, but thanks to him, he gave them a lead. Jay turned the pad around to show Voight the three names listed: Annie Pugliese, Landon Moore and Teddy Courtney. Something was definitely up; there's no coincidence that Charlie just so happened to be with Erin's former friend, her former fling and her estranged brother. And there was no coincidence that Annie reported having no alibi, but Charlie listed her as one. None of this was adding up.

11:09pm.

Jay was dropped off outside of the apartment they shared, -he and his wife. It's hard to believe he was supposed to have gotten off work hours ago. It's hard to believe all that can happen within a day. He didn't want to go home. He was forced. He didn't want to be alone. He didn't have a say in the matter. Ruzek dropped him off and told Jay not to show his face at least until he got a few hours of sleep. He wanted to go to the hospital, maybe sleep in a cot they could bring to the room or if there were no cots available, he could always sleep sitting in the chair or lying on the tiled floor. He didn't really care; he just wanted to be with her.

The team knew if he went to the hospital to sleep, he wouldn't be sleeping at all.

Visiting hours ended for ICU patients at eleven; it was extended because most of the hospital staff knows Erin and no one could bring themselves to kick out any person that visited her. The only people who remain are the officers standing watch outside of her door. Jay left them with a warning, no one is to enter her room alone, -no doctors, nurses, or whoever the case may be. They should always be accompanied by one of the two officers and if Jay found out they had slipped on the job, he wouldn't be the only one bringing hell upon them.

Voight didn't even have to utter a threat. One look his way let the officers know he backed up Jay completely. Erin is the one person neither of them played around about, especially when it comes to her safety.

Jay takes the elevator up and drags his feet down the hallway. He notices a wide array of flowers, get well cards, teddy bears and notes littering around their doorway. The story must have made the news; that's the only way anyone would know about it. He doesn't bother looking closely at any of the gifts because they weren't for him, they were for Erin and they would remain there until she was good enough to come home and appreciate them herself. He unlocked the door and pushed it open, only to start dragging his feet inside.

His body begged and pleaded for him to take a hot shower and he listened. It cried out for him to eat something and he nibbled on a banana enough to push the growl away. It screamed at him to find a comfortable enough surface to sleep but that appeal, he ignored. He couldn't sleep. Not with his wife lying in Chicago Med alone; he couldn't sleep with the chance of his kid dying any day now. He couldn't shut his eyes because all he saw was an image of Erin to the right and his kid to the left and everyone forcing him to choose between the two as if he was choosing between meal options for dinner.

Jay had found himself venturing into the nursery. It's surrounded in neutral colors of gray and yellow, -the baby's a boy. And now was his opportunity to reflect on that. He looked around the room, trailing his fingers along the edge of the crib as he stepped towards the closet, opening it up to find unisex onesies and a row of stacked boxes filled with diapers. The baby was too early. The baby may not make it. This room may be useless. If his kid didn't survive, Jay couldn't see himself ever walking into this room, let alone this apartment again. He would have to move…maybe get his friends to pack up the place and ship the boxes to wherever he and Erin see fit. She wouldn't want to return either. She probably wouldn't even want him; he would be a constant reminder of the kid she lost, a constant reminder of the decision he made.

Halstead couldn't decide. No one with an ounce of compassion would force him to make that decision. No one with a hint of empathy would judge him for his internal battle. Jay saw the rocking chair, gifted to them by Hank; it was used by Camille when she had Justin. He grabbed the stuffed animal, a panda, from inside the crib and continued to drag his feet over towards the wooden piece of future. Carefully, he sat down, straining his face when he heard it creak. It's old, but its vintage and an antique and Erin loved it so much that even though it went against the style and décor of the room, she had to have it. It faced the window. He was in the direct view of the glowing moon. Jay began to rock, forwards and backwards, clenching the stuffed panda to his chest as if it could absorb all the hurt, the pain, the anger and confusion from his body.