Hindsight

Yare

Jay's eyes were locked on what he knew was the ceiling. He laid on his back, hands knitted together, resting them on his abdomen. This, like every other morning, was the worst, it was one of the hardest things he had to do. Waking up was a constant reminder of reality.

The fact that he's blind.

He reached out for Erin, wanting nothing more than to hold her in his arms, allowing her warmth to calm his nerves. But he quickly realised, with the empty space next to him, that she wasn't there. He's alone.

Again.

Like every morning. She's always out of bed before he is.

He was exhausted. He couldn't sleep. Not ever since Erin was rushed to the hospital. Not ever since they came back home almost a week ago.

As much as he tried to be her rock, he was terrified. Much more than her. He was an embarrassment. He have never been so powerless in his entire life. Not in the Rangers. Not in Afghanistan. Not when he was taken over a year ago.

He just doesn't want to let her down anymore. Letting that happen one too many times before. He loves her, almost obsessed with her. He doesn't want her to be sad.

He have been patient, allowing her the chance to talk to him at her on pace but the longer time passes, the longer she pretends she's fine.

It was as if she had a schedule. Almost every night or sometimes even during the day, she would hide in the bathroom and cry. Through the running water, he could clearly hear her muffled cries. But there was nothing he could do. It was a feeling that was no stranger to him. He felt helpless.

She doesn't want his help. At least she was crying. That's better than keeping it all bottled up. All he could do was lay on the bed and listen. He might as well go deaf at this point.

What's left for him to do on this planet anyway?

Though he was very much dependent on his pregnant girlfriend, he wasn't entirely hanging on her. He doesn't want to be. Wanting to do simple tasks on his own, he asked her to help him with those simple things, the second they got home a few days ago.

Now, he could do a few things all by himself like getting to the phone. That was something very important to him. Also, he kind of, sort of could get around the apartment on his own. It was still a work in progress.

Jay had to learn how to be human again. He felt like he had lost himself, like he didn't belong with the human race anymore. He doesn't know who this incompetent person is. This guy's unrecognisable.

He's a cop. A veteran for the Rangers. A sharp shooter.

He shouldn't be blind.

Being blind made him realise how much of a gift sight was. A gift that one might take for granted. He knows he did. He knows he would never be able to see the hue of the sky at sunset or the blue of the ocean or the white blanket that covered the city. Not Erin's forest green eyes or her everlasting dimples. Not his brother's stupid grin or Voight scowling at him. He would never see any of those again. All he had were memories. He could never see their faces again but they're all still here with him. He could still hear their voices. He could still touch them.

He's going to be okay.

That's what he kept telling himself every morning.

You're going to be okay.

He doesn't even believe his own words.

Pulling the covers away, Jay pulled his legs out from under the blankets and swung his feet over to the side. He stood up, turned to his left and reached out for the wall that he knew was there to guide him to the bathroom.