The Soldier and The Spy: Jay Halstead- Episode 7

Bonus Scene

Present Day

He let out a sigh, his frustration growing as he glanced between the three photos on his desk. They weren't related to any case, things had been quiet on that front since the Hollowell investigation thanks to the extended weekend they'd mysteriously been given and they hadn't had long to dig into any potential terror attacks in Chicago before Jay had let them know they didn't need to, though he'd had the team work their C. I's anyway to be sure they didn't miss something. With another tired sigh he picked up a picture. He'd gone through a lot of trouble to get them, more than he'd expected but the people he'd gotten them from hadn't been eager to send them, and from what he'd been told had gone through a lot of trouble themselves to keep it under wraps. A couple favours he wasn't going to get back.

And he still didn't know what they told him.

It was clear the person responsible for the scenes in each was capable of inflicting a lot of damage; the only times he'd ever heard of a hole that big being blasted in a boat that size was with a torpedo. Which he'd confirmed had not been used, though it was hard to tell with the wreckage so mangled. And what about the other two? One showed an entire industrial complex up in flames and the last...

He'd been in a lot of firefights in his time on the force, fire being the operative word. He wasn't afraid to get dirty, might be getting older but he could still hold his own in a fight but he preferred to let his gun do the talking, not to mention the kind of people he went up against were likely not the same kind of people in that photo. Sixteen of them laid out on the concrete, dead or unconscious he couldn't be sure but down was down and he knew he sure as hell wasn't capable of putting that many people out on his own. And he sure as hell couldn't do it without a gun, which the lack of blood suggested was exactly what had happened. What did it mean for someone who could?

What did that mean for the people and the city he was charged with protecting?

Aside from sixty-four assists in the field and three hundred and twenty-five potential threats?

The sound of approaching footsteps had him looking up and then quickly flipping those over photos. "No dog?"

Jay just laughed, raising his brows with a grin as he passed over the bottle he carried. Cuban rum.

With a dogs face drawn in sharpie on the glass.

"Cute." He said as he put it off to the side, looking his detective over as he grinned again, looking more relaxed than Hank thought he'd ever seen him, though his usual stiffness seemed to be slowly creeping in, a connection he didn't like. "Where's Tess?"

"Downstairs giving Trudy her gift. Fridge magnet."

He wondered what she'd gotten the others.

He was probably going to find out in the morning.

"How did it go?"

Jay just nodded but his gaze went distant and Hank knew as sure as he stood in this room his mind wasn't in it; it was in Cuba, or maybe back in the desert but it wasn't here. Only for a minute and then he came back, looking at him with a very familiar, very critical look.

Trying to decide if he could trust him.

How much.

Hank had never had a more complicated relationship with any member of his team than he did with Jay. Not even Antonio and they'd gone toe-to-toe more times than he could count. But aside from his brief stint in the States Attorney's Office and the few times he'd had to step away Antonio had never led his own unit. Jay had, in situations a lot tougher than any they saw in Chicago; as much of a warzone as their city could be sometimes it wasn't one, something he might've forgotten too often.

But not Jay.

He knows what it is to lead and he knows what it is to lose and he is owed more respect than how you just spoke to him.

She'd been right. Hank had known he'd been a squad leader in the Rangers, a platoon commander but he'd been so young when he'd joined his unit he hadn't taken that experience as seriously as he should have. He'd been so different from him he hadn't wanted to.

Different. Or better.

"I still remember what she looked like when we found her." Jay said somberly, taking a seat on the arm of the chair beside him as he decided to share whatever was weighing on him. "I'm guessing someone's told you about that?"

"I've heard the story."

Had spent a long time thinking about it after Trudy told him, after Adam told her, the parallel to the way they'd found Tess something he didn't think could be made sense of.

"What they did to her..." He looked back as Jay trailed off, his face darkening with a rage the younger man didn't often let show. "I've still never seen someone beaten so badly. After we caught him I went with her to see him and you know what he did when he saw her? He spat at her and he called her a whore. And you know what she did??"

He shook his head when Jay looked at him, those pictures flashing through his mind as he braced himself for the answer.

"She gave him a prayer rug and a Quran."

Now that surprised him.

Jay nodded in understanding, letting out a heavy breath as he shook his own head; there were tears in his eyes and Hank wasn't so much surprised by the depth of his emotion as he was disappointed this was his first time seeing it.

Remorseful.

"He still had a piece of it. A little scrap he managed to hold onto when someone tore it away." He continued hoarsely, clearing his throat and shaking his head again before he straightened, not just the Detective he knew but the Ranger Hank was realizing he still was. "He spat at her and he called her a whore and she showed him mercy. And yesterday he saved over a hundred and fifty American lives. American military lives. And you know what he said when she asked why?"

He shook his head again, though this time he thought he did.

"Rahma."

"Mercy."

"Mercy." Jay repeated with a nod, this time taking a deep breath before he looked him over again, still critical but...

But with his own regret too.

A look that both softened and solidified as he stood. "I trust her. I believe in her. And I trusted you because I saw her in you."

Hank Voight wasn't speechless often but it was all he could do to return his nod as he walked out, waiting until he'd disappeared before he looked at that bottle of rum and then picked up the pictures again, looking them over one by one. On their own each was an example of someone capable of immense violence but put together... Put together they were the end of a human trafficking ring, the destruction of a massive supply of stolen armaments and the dismantling of a vicious crime ring that had focused specifically on underaged girls.

Fire and fury all in the name of mercy.

That was something he could believe in too.