Tolerance Book I (Chicago PD/Med FF) by Frances51163

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty: Peace Destroyed

Monday morning rolled around all too soon for Jay.  He had returned the previous night after making the most of his break.  Although he still had stuff to deal with the solitude had helped to restore a sense of balance in him which had been missing.  A semblance of peace had been regained.  He now felt better able to carry on.  After his early morning jog he returned to his apartment for a quick shower.  Unknownst to him however the day was about to take an unexpected turn.  Once dressed in dark blue jeans and a thick black jumper he downed a quick orange juice and headed out.

21st Precinct -

Hank glanced at his watch which informed him his youngest Detective was late, something which never happened without notice.   He walked out into the open plan area and looked at the men working at their desks.

"Anyone heard from Halstead?"
"No Sarge." Adam rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "maybe he slept it out.   I rang but the phone went straight to voicemail."
"Swing by his apartment," the middle aged man ordered  Adam drawing surprised looks from everyone, "take Antonio with you."
"Sarge you're not worried over what Will said are you?" Adam asked as he rose and grabbed his jacket.
"I don't think he'd do anything to himself but I want to know where he is.   He's never been late before without calling in."
"Sure Sarge," Antonio acknowledged as he headed down the stairs after Adam.
"Al my office," the Sergeant went back to his desk and sat down as his old friend walked in and closed the door.
"You're worried about the Kid," Al sank down on the sofa inside the door as he made the statement.
"And you're not?"
"Hell Hank we're all worried about him but you're not putting  credence into what Will said are you?"
"Like I told Ruzek I don't think he'd hurt himself but ...... I don't want to take the risk that I'm wrong."
"Will said what he did out of genuine concern but it was misplaced.  The Kid is not going to crumble under the pressure, I guarantee that."
"No you can't," Hank rebutted quietly, "you know there are no guarantees in this life.   Your certainty, is that based on your experience as a Sniper?"
"Look I may have been a Sniper but things were way less complicated in my time.   What Jay had to deal with was way more intense than anything I went through.  You said yourself you did some checking.  He was the best of the best.  That means he got called in for the most difficult jobs.   He came through that he'll come through anything."
"Well I hope you're right," Hanks' cell started ringing and his features turned cold as he listened to the speaker.

Adam and Antonio had to resort to using the spare key Jay had given Adam when there was no response to their knocking.  Quickly checking the apartment they found nothing amiss.   An empty gearbag at the foot of the bed meant he had returned from his trip.  A drop of orange juice in a glass in the kitchen sink informed them that their friend had probably followed his usual morning routine and then left.  The two men knew their friend would not have left the uncleaned glass in the sink until the return from his trip.    He was very neat and tidy, something they had all learned during their stays with hi m on protective duty.  Antonio volunteered to call their Sergeant knowing Adam was upset.   Having updated their boss the duo locked up and headed downstairs trying to figure out what had happened to their friend and colleague.

"Maybe his truck broke down," Antonio suggested for they had checked on arrival and the vehicle was nowhere to be seen.
"He'd have phoned," Adam shook his head negatively as they reached the pavement, "does Sarge want us back at the precinct?"
"Yeah.   We'll work out a search grid ftom there."
"Hell this is the last thing he needs."
"We'll find him."

                 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Jay had been on his way to the precinct when the accident happened.   One minute he was driving along and the next a truck driving in the opposite direction swerved into his lane and the truck collided violently head on with the passenger side of the other vehicle.  The Detective had a brief moment to realize that the driver looked familiar before blackness descended.  The next time he opened his eyes Jay found himself lying down in what could only be a hospital cubicle.  Oh great!  Will would kill him.  As he glanced around him he noted he was wearing a hospital gown.  Using his right hand as a probe he felt his aching head and came across a small bandage on his left temple.   Even as he took in the splinted left hand he looked more closely at his surroundings and realized to his surprise that he wasn't in Med.  Well that was something in his favour.  Easing himself up slowly in deference to the various aches and pains which decided to vie for his attention he  carefully swung his legs over the side of the gurney, relieved to see his jeans on a chair in a hospital bag.  He frowned as he noted his jumper was nowhere in sight.  It took a ridiculous amount of time to actually get the jeans on but he eventually succeeded.   Half dressed he stood up and then he realized that his boots were also missing.  How the hell was he supposed to leave without boots?

"Well that's why they're out of reach," a mans' voice startled the Detective, "so you don't leave."
"Where am I?" the young man asked cursing himself internally for speaking out loud unknowingly as he watched the Doctor in his early forties approach.
"How about you get back on the gurney," the older man suggested as he assessed his patient with a frown, "I'm Dr. Jake Barry.  I've been treating you since you came in."
"Nope Doc.  Ask your questions but I'm not staying."
"Don't you want to know what injuries you have?"
"Well I hurt my hand," Jay held up the painful left hand as proof, "and ....  I banged my head."
"You should be a Doctor," Barry grinned before continuing as he took out a penlight and shone it in the other mans' eyes ignoring his groan of pain at the obviously offensive intrusion, "now what's your name?"
"Jay Halstead.  This is a hospital in Chicago. Obama was the last real President we had."
"You're obviously familiar with head injuries," Barry said as he held up two fingers, "tell me how many fingers I'm holding up."
"Two.  Don't have a concussion Doc."
"Which considering what happened is a miracle.   Do you remember what happened?" Barry asked as he reached into his pocket and retrieved a piece of paper.
"I ... I was going to work ... a gray truck came into my lane."
"What do you do?"
"I'm a Detective," Jay frowned as he tried to get his brain cells working, "what time is it?"
"It's ten after ten," Barry replied.
"Great.  My boss won't be freaking out."
"Detective Halstead it's ten after ten at night.   You were brought in early this morning."
"Oh damn," Jay paled and the Doctor shot out a hand to help him lean back against the gurney, "where's my cell phone?  They'll be worried about me.  They don't need any more hassle from me."
"It's here," Barry let go of his hold once he was satisfied his patient wasn't going to collapse and quickly opened retrieved the item from a small bag under the gurney, "who do you need to ring?"
"Sergeant Voight," Jay put out a hand to take the phone.
"How about I ring him?"
"Okay," Jay acquiesced as he wiped away the sweat which had broken out on his forehead, hell could anything else happen to him?
"By the way," Barry commented as the phone was ringing, "you were in and out of consciousness when you were  brought in.  You kept repeating a name."
"What name?"
"Here," Barry handed over the piece of paper, "you were adamant I wrote it down as it was important."

The young Detective read the one word on the slip of paper, Williamson .....

tbc