In That Moment- A Chicago PD FanFiction

Chapter 3

'It doesn't matter how tough we are. Trauma always leaves a scar. It follows us home, it changes our lives. Trauma messes everybody up, but maybe that's the point: All the pain and the fear. Maybe going through all of that is what keeps us moving forward, it's what pushes us. Maybe we have to get a little messed up before we can step up.'

Erin's P.O.V.

It's disorientating, waking up in a strange place with no one familiar around you. The lights are blinding, I'm lying flat on my back so all I can see is the bright white ceiling and the lights. I try to sit up, but my body won't obey my brains commands- I can't even turn my head. As I continue trying to move my head the dull throbbing in the back of my head quickly escalates in to a sharp pain. I admit defeat, it hurts too much. The pain subsides slightly as I give up, but it's still there. I feel my eye lids start to droop closed again, I fight for a moment to keep them open, but I can't. I slide back in to the darkness, at least it doesn't hurt this way.

As I drift in to sleep, my mind starts to wander. I find myself thinking back over my time in intelligence, and even though it's there reason I'm lying in this bed right now I can honestly say I wouldn't change it for the world. As my mind drifts I find myself thinking about Jay, all the things I never said to him. I start to wonder if I'm going to get the chance to tell him how I feel. Do I even know how I feel really? I know one thing for sure, I don't want to have any more what ifs. I've been so afraid of saying anything incase he doesn't feel the same, incase it doesn't work out, but all I'm left with is regrets.

I can feel a hand, gently taking mine. I fight against the tiredness, trying to open my eyes to find out who it is. "I'm so sorry." I hear him whisper, and then I realise who it is. Jay. I can hear the emotion in his voice, and I know instantly that he's blaming himself for what's happened to me. I try to open my eyes, but I can't. I know he's still there, I can feel his hand gently holding mine. There is so much I want to say, so much I need to tell him. I want to tell him it's not his fault, that he can't blame himself, but the words just won't come out. With some serious concentration I manage to tighten my fingers slightly around his. I wonder for a moment if he will even notice, it's such a tiny movement but it's all I can manage.

Jay's P.O.V

We've been sitting in the waiting room for what feels like an eternity, staring at the walls in silence, when the doctor comes out. The whole unit gets up as he walks over, anxious for news. Please let it be good news. The doctors facial expression is unreadable as he stops infront of us. I hold my breath, waiting for him to speak. Praying he won't say those words. "She's alive..." I let out my breath. Thank god for that. Then I realise I haven't listened to a word that the doctor has said after the first two. "... We will just have to wait and see what the damage is, and if it's permanent." The doctor says, giving us a friendly smile before walking away. Crap. What damage? I'd been so relieved that she was alive I hadn't been listening. I was about to ask Voight what was going on when his phone rang. After a short conversation he yelled at the rest of the unit to follow him. "Not you Halstead!" He called back over his shoulder as I move after them. I can't help but feel relieved. I need to be here, with Erin.

I ask a nurse who's walking past if I can see Erin. She gives me a sympathetic smile that makes me think she's going to say no, but she gives me a room number and points me in the right direction. I thank her, hurrying off down the corridor, I need to see her, I need to apologise. This is all my fault. I reach the room, opening the door slowly. She's lying on the bed, unmoving. I don't know if she's just asleep or unconscious, but she looks so vulnerable. Their are huge bruises forming, marking her usually perfect skin. It makes me feel sick to look at them, the clearly visible hand prints around her wrists, her swollen and bruised eyes. All because of me. I should have been there to protect her. I sit down on the little green chair next to the bed, and reach out to take her hand gently. I'm almost afraid to touch her, incase it hurts her. "Im so sorry." I whisper, not knowing if she can hear me or not. Nothing. No response, but then I feel it. A tiny little movement of her fingers, closing slightly around my own, and it gives me hope that she's in there somewhere.