Linstead: What Was Meant To Be

Erin's POV

After officially the longest and most uncomfortable plane ride I had ever been forced to participate in, we all arrived back from New York.

The pain of what Greg Yates had done to Nadia ached through each blood vessel and vein inside me. However, I didn't dare show it in front of the unit.

Especially Jay.

He means the world to me, more than I could ever put into words. I just wanted and needed him NOT to do that whole "over protective boyfriend" thing.

I quietly paced through the cold and empty bullpen in my black laced boots: past the shallow skeleton of my best friend's desk that I could now barely look at without feeling a lump the size of a soccer ball form in the depths of my hoarse throat.

After catching a flashback from everything I looked at on my way, I finally reached my desk. I rolled out my chair and slumped down at the oak desk, my whole body wanting to shake but instead being shunted by a steady numbness hollowing out my nervous system.

I slipped my empty hands into my pockets in an attempt to mask the uncontrollable jitters, and found a small slip of paper.

I pulled it out and discovered a note...from Nadia. I stared at it, my peripheral vision fading into darkness as I picked at the sad little photo that was hanging on the bottom: tears welling in my tired eyes.

At that moment, Jay and the rest of the unit appeared at the top of the stairs. I quickly discarded of the note and wiped away any indicators of emotion.

But Jay could tell I was upset. To him it was written all over my face like I was an open book. He broke away from the rest of the depressed-looking unit and began to approach me, but I got up defiantly and went into the break room.

Being the kind and caring soul he is buried underneath good looks and a hard exterior, he trailed behind me. "Erin?" He asked, but my go-to defense mechanism was to ignore his warming voice...