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study-coffee-chicago · 4 years ago

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Seasons of PD: Season 5: PTSD (A Halstead brothers + Halstead! sister imagine)

As always, I don't own any quotes from 5x01 of Chicago PD!

Your age: 16

Jay's age: 30

Will's age: 32

"I just talked to Ballistics. The bullet that hit the little girl was a nine-millimeter."

"I thought the bangers were firing 45s."

"They were."

"You're saying I shot that little girl?"

That. That was the conversation that was replaying in Jay's head as he sat on the couch of his apartment that afternoon. How could he call himself a cop, a good cop, if it was him who shot that girl? He should've known that there an illegal daycare center there, even though no one could've known, he still should've figured it out somehow. But, he was taking heavy fire and he did what he needed to do. But, that didn't make him feel any better. A little girl was in critical condition and fighting for her life at Chicago Med because of him. It was all his fault.

***

Your mind wandered back to the day earlier in the year when it was your sixteenth birthday...and you had gotten the iPhone that was currently blowing up with Twitter notifications all about Jay.

You had gone for breakfast with your dad because he had completed the 12 Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous and was doing a lot better. He also had visitation rights after he completed the 12 Steps, so he had the right to see you. Since you were 16, you could refuse, but you didn't want your dad to feel bad. And, from what you had heard from Will who had been going to see how he was doing to see if it was safe for you to see him, he was doing really well.

During breakfast, he had given you a gift. You opened it and immediately recognized the bracelet.

"Is this Mom's?" you asked. "I thought you said you couldn't find it when I asked for it when I was like ten."

"I've kept it all these years, I was just waiting for the right time to make sure you'd be able to take care of it and not lose it."

You remembered playing with the charm bracelet when you were little when it dangled off your mom's wrist. There were a bunch of different charms from places she had gone, such as Mount Rushmore, Washington DC, a record charm that she had bought in Hollywood, and for other special occasions, such as a steering wheel charm she got from her parents when she got her driver's license, a graduation cap she got for graduation which she also got from her parents, a wedding dress charm which symbolized the day she married your dad, among other charms.

"Thank you," you replied as you held back tears.

He'd changed, he'd recovered, but there's still no way you'd go back to live with him.

***

"How was breakfast with Dad?" Jay asked as you walked into the apartment after you had breakfast.

"Good. He's doing really good, Jay." You walked up to him and opened the small gift box you were holding. "He gave me this." You held the box out to him and he smiled.

"Mom's charm bracelet?" You nodded. "Want me to put it on you?"

"Please."

Jay's breath hitched as he took the bracelet out of the box. It was like he was holding a little piece of his mom, and this piece of your mom would forever be with you the moment he fastened the clasp.

"It's perfect," you said as you fiddled with a few charms.

You both sat in silence for a few moments, just thinking about the fact that this was your mom's and it was now yours.

"Ready to go get your license?" Jay asked, breaking the silence.

"Is that even a question? Yes!"

You had taken your driver's test a week ago after completing the long process of going through two segments of driver's training classes, taking a written test, securing your learner's permit, and accumulating 50 or more hours of driving practice with either Jay or Will.

Jay chuckled at your excitement. "You good with how you look? You'll have the same license photo until you're 21, you know?"

"Let me go put on some lipstick!"

"Not that super dark reddish-purple one!"

"Yes, that super dark reddish-purple one! It's my favorite and it looks good on me!" you yelled as you ran to your room.

Once you had applied your lipstick, you and Jay made your way to the Secretary of State with all the necessary documents for you to get your license.

***

"Why's my license vertical and not horizontal like yours?" you asked after you exited the building with your brand new license.

"You get a horizontal one when you're 21. Just makes it easier for us cops to identify if you're underage if we ask for your license. And for bartenders to know you're underage if you try to buy alcohol."

"Oh, okay."

"You wanna drive?" Jay asked you.

"Sure. It's no different than me having my permit, though because you'll be in the car," you pointed out.

"So, you don't want to drive."

"No, I do!"

"That's what I thought."

He handed you the keys and you unlocked his truck. You both got in and you started adjusting the seat and the rearview mirror.

"Don't forget to--"

"Adjust the side mirrors. I know, Jay, I know. We've been through this a ton. Trust me."

"You're essentially driving a missile down the road, excuse me if I get nervous."

You rolled your eyes and started to drive, but when you were supposed to turn right, he told you to go left.

"Where are we going?" you asked.

"The district," he answered.

"Why?"

"You'll see. Just drive. I'll give you directions because we both know you're bad with those."

"Shut up!"

"What? We both know it's true!"

"No comment."

When you got there, Jay told you to park in front of what he called the "roll-up". To say you were confused would be an understatement; you didn't even know what this was!

"It's where we load our weapons and drive out sometimes. It's the basement," Jay explained.

"Where the cage is?"

"How do you know about that?"

"Adam told me about it. And then when you and Erin were on a lunch run for everyone, he showed it to me."

"I'm gonna have to talk to him about that."

Once you finished parking, you turned off the car and handed the keys back to Jay. Then, Jay did this weird, complicated knock on the garage door of the roll-up.

"Surprise!"

You were met with Will standing there. Behind him, was a car, with a bow on top.

"Is this mine?" you asked.

"Yup," Will confirmed. "Dude," he said to Jay, "You're lucky Goodwin let me out early."

"2010 Buick," Jay said as you walked over to examine the car more. "Seized it from a mob boss two weeks ago. It was going to be impounded, but Kev's got a really good car guy, so I didn't have to pay a lot for it."

"Wait," you started, "So this is just from you, Jay?"

"My gift is in your driver's seat," Will said and then he tossed you the keys. Somehow you caught them...you weren't the best when it came to hand-eye coordination.

You unlocked it using the fob and opened the driver's side door. There, on the driver's seat, was a box. And, not just any box: an Apple box.

"Is this...?"

"Open it." Will smiled.

So you did and you squealed so loud that Jay covered his ears. "Damn, high-pitched screams...sometimes worse than the sound of gunshots."

"Sorry! I'm just so excited! I can't believe I got a car and iPhone! You guys are the best! I love you guys so much!"

"We figured it'd save me a ton of time in the morning not to have to drive you to school and, if I get called into a case early or stay at work late, then I wouldn't have to find someone to drop you off or pick you up. And, figured I could always track your phone if necessary," Jay answered.

"I knew there was a catch," you answered.

"Always is," Will joked.

"Are there traps still in the car?" you asked, causing Jay's eyes to go wide.

"How do you know about those?"

"I watch crime shows."

"No," he answered. "Made sure that was one of the very first things Kev's car guy did: remove the traps."

"Aw, man! I was gonna have fun with those!"

"And put what in them?" Will asked. "Candy? Those fancy pens you like?"

"One, there's two different kinds I like: Papermate pens and calligraphy pens. And two, a little bit of this, a little bit of that."

"Care to specific on what those might be?" Jay asked.

"Not really."

"May I remind you that I am a cop and can toss your bedroom like--" He snapped his fingers. "--that."

"Don't you need a warrant for that?"

"It's my house, so I can do what I want. And, I hope I don't need to bring charges against you for whatever you're hiding."

You burst out laughing. "You guys, I'm kidding. I just wanted to see Jay's reaction when I mentioned traps! I wouldn't do anything...especially with Jay as my brother. I'm not that stupid."

"Oh thank God," Jay sighed.

"Can we go? A little birdie let it slip that there's a surprise party for me at the apartment."

Will glared at Jay. "What?" Jay asked as he put his hands up in a sign of surrender. "I promise you I did not say a single word about it."

"Mhm." Will rolled his eyes.

"Y/N, would this little birdie be Ruzek?" Jay asked.

"No comment."

"I am never telling him anything remotely secretive again."

But now, you kinda wished you didn't have that phone. Because, all over Twitter, there were people who didn't even know your brother who was saying that he was a racist cop and a child killer.

***

You walked inside to see a very distraught Jay. he was sitting on the couch with his head in his hands. And, even though you could only see one side of his face from where you were standing, you could see the dried tear tracks on his cheeks.

"So, it's true?" you asked. Jay jumped and looked at you. "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you."

"H-How do you know what happened?"

You sat down next to him. "Twitter. My mentions were blowing up."

"Y/N, you gotta believe me. I wouldn't intentionally shoot a little girl--"

"Jay, I believe you."

"At least she's at Med. Will said she's got a good chance of making it."

"Oh, you didn't hear." He furrowed his eyebrows. "She passed away. I got a notification about it like an hour ago. I'm so sorry, Jay."

"Fuck," was all he said as he buried his head in his hands and began sobbing.

You wanted to comfort him, you really did, but you had no idea what to say. You knew Jay was a good cop and, whatever happened, you knew that he wouldn't purposely kill an innocent little girl. So, you just put a hand on his shoulder as he continued to sob, reminding him that you were still there.

"I'm gonna go talk to Will," he said as he stood up a few minutes later.

He walked over to the kitchen sink and splashed his face with water and dried it with some paper towels while you walked over to him.

"I'll drive you," you told him. "You're not in any shape to be driving right now. I know you'd tell me the same thing."

"No, Y/N, I can drive myself."

"This isn't up for discussion, Jay."

"Yes, it is. My picture's all over the internet. If someone decides to come after me, I don't want you near me out in public. I need you to be safe. Just stay here. Please." His voice cracked on the last word.

"Fine."

"Thank you."

"But please try your best to get home in one piece."

Jay nodded and grabbed his jacket. "I'll be back soon."

But, what he was thinking was totally different. After what I did, I don't deserve to come home in one piece.

***

Jay stormed into the ED just as Will was leaving a treatment room and Will caught sight of Jay and walked towards him.

"You said she was gonna make it!" Jay practically yelled.

"Hey," Will said, quieter, trying to use his trying-to-calm-down-a-patient-voice to hopefully make Jay calm down.

"You said she was gonna..." Jay took a deep breath, trying to keep the tears at bay.

"Hey, I said she had a chance, okay? She was in bad shape. Lost too much blood."

"I know."

"There's only so much we can do."

"I know. I'm sorry. I just...the bullet came from my gun. Even though I was aiming at an offender, it went through his abdomen and through a fucking door and into her, Will. Even though it was an accident, I still shot her. I killed an eight-year-old little girl. I killed her."

***

"50-21 George!" Jay yelled into his radio. "I'm taking heavy fire! I got two civilians down in the north alley behind the building."

"This is Sergeant Hank Voight. Advise responding units to shut down a two-block radius."

"Help! Help!"

Jay turned his attention to the building and when he saw it was clear, he pushed open the wooden door and entered.

He nearly choked when he saw what happened.

It was you. You were eight years old, clutching Beary in one hand while Hailey held you and tried to stop the bleeding.

"Y/N!" He had no idea why you were even here, maybe your parents couldn't afford a good, legal daycare center because of your mom's medical bills, but whatever it was, you were here, and you had somehow been shot. He kneeled down next to you and all but threw his sniper on the ground.

"Alright, I'm gonna call an ambulance," Hailey said.

"We don't have time." Somehow, he was aware of where his keys were in his tactical gear. "Go get my car. Fast."

He handed over the keys. "Ready?" Hailey asked as Jay positioned his hands above hers to try and stop the bleeding the minute she removed her hands.

Jay nodded and quickly replaced Hailey's hands with his as she sprinted off to get his truck.

But, then the scene changed.

It became hotter. Jay could feel the dry heat in his mouth and in his throat. He felt the sweat trickle down his face and back. He felt beads of sand on his hands and arms. He looked down to see you resting your head against his leg. And, he wasn't in his normal clothes that he'd wear to work. No, he was in his Rangers uniform.

He had his hands over the same spot on your chest as he had in the daycare center. And, you still had Beary in your hand, albeit a very loose grip on him.

You coughed, causing some blood to come out of your mouth.

"No, Y/N, not like this. Not like this." He removed one hand from the wound and applied all the pressure he could with one hand while he reached for his radio. "This is Halstead to Base." Crackles. "This is Halstead to Base." More crackles. "Please. This is Halstead to Base. I need a med truck now! My sister's been shot." No response. "Please. She's only-- She's only eight years old." His voice cracked. "Please."

You coughed once more and Jay knew trying to reach Base was useless at this point. Jay took his canteen and dabbed a little bit of water on your face and smeared it around, trying to clean the blood off your face. But, as fast as he could clean it, more would come up and out of your mouth.

You let out a strangled breath. Jay knew that sound. That was the sound of someone's last gasp of air that they'd ever take.

"Y/N, please. Please, Short Stack. Stay with me. Help will come. Please, just hang on a little longer."

Then, he saw the all too familiar look of empty eyes in front of him. He let out a strangled sob as he placed his fingers on your eyelids and gently pulled them closed.

Jay shot up in bed with a start. He reached for his chest, feeling for his radio to try and call for help again. It was only when his fingers brushed his bare chest that he realized that he wasn't in the desert of Afghanistan, but in the safety of his own bed, in his own apartment, here stateside, here in Chicago.

He went into the bathroom after his breathing calmed down and jumped into a freezing cold shower, hoping to get the image of an eight-year-old you being shot and killed by his gun out of his head.

But it wouldn't leave.

Jay dried off and then quietly made his way out of his room and over to yours.

He crouched down by your bed and watched as your chest rose and fell, signaling that you were in a deep sleep. You were sleeping on your side and had one leg thrown over the other and a few toes sticking out from under the covers. Beary was next to you. You weren't clutching him like in his nightmare, hell you weren't even holding him, but he was still in your bed. Jay was pretty sure that if that bear wasn't in your bed at night, you wouldn't be able to sleep, despite you being sixteen.

Jay longed to put two fingers to your neck just to check your pulse and make sure he wasn't hallucinating the rising and falling of your chest. But, he knew that was paranoid. He could trust his instincts now. After all, he was awake. There was no stifling heat, no hot sweat (at least, after his shower there wasn't), and no sand. All that was below him was the fluffy rug on your bedroom floor.

He slowly left your room and went back to his. But, instead of getting into bed, he tugged his comforter off his bed and grabbed his pillow. Then, he dragged those two things back into your room and settled down on your rug.

He knew it was probably paranoia, but after that dream, he wanted to make sure you were safe. He wanted to be close to you. Because, God, that dream felt so real.

She's alive, he kept reminding himself as he tried to fall asleep. And, that was the last thing on his mind when he finally fell asleep once more: that you were still alive.

***

Your alarm blared through your quiet room and you rolled over with a groan and turned it off.

"Christ, that was loud. How deep of a sleeper are you?" Jay asked as he rolled over.

You looked at him with sleep still in your eyes. "What are you doing in here?"

"Was a rough night." He yawned. "Just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Okay...?"

"I say ten more minutes."

"Jay, I'll be late."

"I'll drive you, lights and sirens and all."

"Night."

***

"You okay?" you asked around 11:00 pm two weeks later when Jay finally got home from working a case.

"Yeah, just tired," he answered as he went to put his badge and gun away in his room.

"Are you sure it's just that?" you asked when he came out from his room in pajamas.

"I'm sure. Why are you asking?"

"You had that street fair bombing case and two weeks ago, a bullet from your gun--"

"Y/N, I'm fine. I promise. don't you have to get to bed?"

"Tomorrow's Saturday. I don't have school tomorrow."

"So it is. I'm gonna turn in. See you in the morning."

"Aren't you gonna eat something?" you asked.

"I'm not really that hungry. Goodnight."

You knew something was off, but you weren't going to push it, so you just grabbed the remote and started looking for a movie to watch.

***

You coughed, causing some blood to come out of your mouth.

You let out a strangled breath. Jay knew that sound. That was the sound of someone's last gasp of air that they'd ever take.

"Y/N, please. Please, Short Stack. Stay with me. Help will come. Please, just hang on a little longer."

Then, he saw the all too familiar look of empty eyes in front of him. He let out a strangled sob as he placed his fingers on your eyelids and gently pulled them closed.

He saw a figure moving towards him and in his hand, a grenade.

"Would you like to join her?"

Jay jolted awake, breathing raggedly. He tried to catch his breath and swallow, but it was no use, the familiar feeling of bile was rising in his throat and he dry heaved all the way to the bathroom before he finally emptied what little was in his stomach into the toilet.

Meanwhile, you furrowed your eyebrows as you slowly opened your eyes. You thought you had heard gagging, but it was gone now, so you tried to close your eyes and go back to sleep. But, then you heard gagging and the sound of something hitting what sounded like water.

Wait, was Jay sick? He never got sick.

You got out of bed and walked over to his room and quietly opened his door. From the dim light of the bathroom, and the disheveled covers on his bed, you knew he was in the bathroom.

"Jay?" you asked as you crept towards his bathroom.

"Y/N, l-leave. Please, just leave me alone ri-right now." You could tell from the sound of his voice that he was panting as if he had just run a marathon.

"Are you okay?"

No. "I'm fine. Just a stomach bug or food poisoning. Go back to bed."

You poked your head into the bathroom. Jay was leaning against the bathtub without a shirt on, with sweat dripping down his face. His mouth was wide open as if he was trying to capture as much oxygen as was humanly possible.

"Maybe I should call Will. I don't think he's on shift."

"Y/N, I'm fine."

"You don't look fine. You don't look fine at all."

"Y/N, go back to bed. Now."

"But--"

"I said go to bed! So how about you listen for once and just fucking do that? Jesus!"

Your breath caught in your throat. You'd never heard him yell like that...not directed at you at least.

"O-Okay."

You trudged back to your room and laid down. But, sleep didn't come for a while as tears rolled down your cheeks.

Jay put his head in his hands. He had yelled at you. Not only that, but he had sworn at you and you were just trying to help. God, he felt like a terrible brother, a terrible guardian, an overall terrible human being.

He tugged at the roots of his hair, hoping the bit of tugging from that physical pain would calm the mental and emotional pain that had been stirring inside of him for weeks. For weeks he's been like this. Ever since he had been put on his medication, he hadn't even had a nightmare and now he's had them every single day, and he's scared to sleep. What kind of police detective and ex-army ranger is afraid to sleep when they're safe in their own house? He was one of them and, God, he hated himself for it.

Not getting more than three restless hours of sleep per night was starting to have an impact on him at work. They all knew that a sleepy cop was a dead cop, but Jay was still alive. But, there were downfalls, such as getting jittery from all the caffeine he was ingesting early in the morning and then crashing and almost falling asleep doing reports when he had to work late. Well, he didn't have to work late per se, he decided to work late to put off sleeping. He knew none of this was helpful and none of this would solve the problem, but he thought it would be fine. Everything would be fine and the nightmares would eventually go away. They always do. And then everything would be normal again in his brain.

God, he longed for that: the normalcy.

So, for the umpteenth night in a row, he grabbed a pillow and a blanket and made his way to your bedroom to sleep on the floor to make sure you were alive. He put his watch on vibrate and set the alarm for 6 am because he knew you wouldn't be awake that early...especially not on the weekend.

Only when the irrational part of his brain was sure that you weren't going to die, did he finally find solace in sleep.

***

Went to get coffee with Will and to work on homework. Be home eventually, you scribbled on a sticky note and stuck it on the back of the apartment door before you left. Jay had gotten called in to work a case earlier this morning, and you needed a change of scenery to work on some AP World History homework.

You grabbed your backpack, keys, and wallet, and made your way to the parking garage. Then, you left.

About ten minutes later, you arrived at the coffee shop. Not seeing Will, you set your stuff down and went to grab a coffee and a muffin. Don't get it wrong, Jay still didn't like the fact that you drank coffee, but you only drank it when you went out to get it. It wasn't like you drank it every morning or drank two or three cups a day like he did.

You started to read your textbook and take some notes on the vocab. You were so focused that you jumped when Will slid into the chair across from you and said your name.

"Sorry," he apologized. "Lots to do?"

"Not a ton," you replied. "Just gotta read a chapter and take some notes. Then I'm done with homework for the weekend."

"So, you said you think something's up with Jay?" Will asked.

You had texted him that morning to see if you could meet up because you were worried. You had seen how tired he looked and how he poured his coffee into a larger tumbler than normal, one that was almost double the size of his normal one. Bags under his eyes and more coffee than normal had given you the impression that Jay was no longer sleeping, and rightfully so.

"I don't think he's sleeping," you told him.

"And you know this how?" Will asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Because he looks like shit- sorry, he looks like crap, and he drinks a ton more coffee in the morning than he normally does."

"Maybe he just doesn't like the coffee at the district and is bringing more from home," he suggested.

"I don't think so."

"Is he still working out? Still going to the gym?"

"I think so. I'm usually still asleep when he goes, so I wouldn't know either way."

"Anything else?"

"Uh, actually, yeah." You closed your textbook. "I'm pretty sure he was sick last night."

"Sick? Like how sick?"

"He was puking. I wanted to call you but he told me no."

"How'd you find him?"

"Leaning against the bathtub, no shirt, dripping sweat, and mouth wide open."

"I see," Will said. "Anything else?"

"Yeah. Last night when I mentioned calling you, he said he was fine. But, when I pushed, he told me to leave and when I told him no, he yelled and cursed at me."

"He swore at you?" Will grit his teeth.

"Yeah," you whispered. "I don't know what's going on, Will. He hasn't been himself lately."

"Hey, I'll figure it out, okay? I'll make sure he's okay. I can even come over later tonight and check him out if you want me to."

"He'll fight you on that."

"I'm used to unruly patients. Is that what you--" His phone rang and he held up a finger to you to wait for a second while he answered. "Hey, Maggie. What's up?" He paused and then sighed. "I'll be right there." He hung up the phone and started gathering his stuff.

"What? Did something happen and you have to go to work?" you asked.

"Oh, something happened all right. I just got a call saying Jay was brought into Med."

You started to pack up your backpack and grabbed your keys. "I'll follow you there."

***

Jay didn't know what happened. One second he was driving, blinking heavily, the next Hailey was yelling at him and had reached over to grab the wheel, but it was too late. He was too close. When he opened his eyes, he tried to slam on the brake, but it didn't help. The next millisecond, he and Hailey crashed into an electrical pole in Pilsen.

He was awake after that.

"What the hell happened?" Voight asked after he had thrown his car in park and he and Al rushed over to Jay and Hailey.

"I think he fell asleep at the wheel," Hailey answered as she and Jay both stepped out of the truck.

"I did not," Jay protested.

"Oh yeah? Then how do you explain you just running into an electrical pole when there weren't even cars running us off the road?" Hailey yelled.

"I didn't fall asleep! I'm fully awake! Just drop it, Upton."

"Drop it? You do know if we would've hit that at full speed and it fell on us that we could've been electrocuted to death, right?"

"But that didn't happen--"

"Halstead, Upton, I'm bringing both of you to Med to get checked out. After that, you're going home to get some rest, Halstead. You look like hell," Voight told them.

"Sarge--"

"This isn't up for discussion. Get in the damn car." The two detectives walked to Voight's car, while Voight turned to Alvin. "Call Platt to get us some patrolmen to help. You good waiting here for them to pick you up while I bring them to Med?"

"Yeah, go. I'll handle this."

When Jay finally got to Med, to say he was not happy would be an understatement. He didn't need to be in the hospital and he sure as hell didn't need to be kicked off the case and told to go home to get some rest.

"Mags, what room is he in?"

Shit, they had called Will.

"Treatment Four."

Will walked into the room followed by you.

"You didn't have to come, neither of you did."

"Well, too bad," Will said. "Should've put her as your emergency contact instead of me. Oh wait, you can't, she's still too young. Guess you're stuck with me."

"All set," Hailey said as she walked in. "You ready to go?"

"Who's this?" you asked.

"My new partner," Jay told you. "Hailey, this is Y/N and Will, my siblings I told you about. Y/N and Will, my new partner, Hailey Upton."

"Nice to meet you. I've heard good things."

Will scoffed. "Would one of those good things be that Jay absolutely hates hospitals and I always have to make sure he doesn't leave against medical advice?"

"He didn't mention that, no."

"Well, either way, nice to meet Jay's new partner. Do you mind if I talk to him? Privately?"

"No problem."

Will turned to you. "You too, Y/N. Go grab some food or hang out with Hailey or something."

Will focused his attention on Jay when you and Hailey had left the treatment room. "Y/N told me she doesn't think you're sleeping and from what I heard from Maggie about why you were brought in here, don't even bother lying to me."

"I'm fine, Will, really. Nothing to worry about."

"Fine then. I'm gonna go order a blood test."

"Blood test? You're not even on shift! And, you can't even be my doctor if you were!" Jay protested.

"I read that April's your nurse, so I'm going to go find her and tell her to order a blood test then."

"Why?"

"To see if your plasma cortisol levels are elevated and if your cortisol testosterone levels have decreased," Will answer matter-of-factly.

"And you need those because...?"

"If the plasma cortisol level is elevated and the cortisol testosterone level is lowered, then those are both indicators that you haven't been sleeping. Be back, little brother."

Jay groaned and threw his head back. He didn't think he'd need to be stuck with a needle today. If only had put someone else down as his emergency contact, then this wouldn't be happening. Or, if his brother just wasn't a doctor or didn't work at this specific hospital then this wouldn't be happening, either.

***

Jay was walking you to school when you were eight years old. On your back, you had your backpack and you were holding Jay's hand and skipping to keep up with his long strides. Jay chuckled at how cute and innocent you were. He didn't want you to ever grow up.

"Jay Jay," you started, causing him to look down at you, "Did you get all the bad guys when you left?"

"Why do you ask?" He swallowed. He knew if you asked the right questions, he might not know how to answer them. And, his last tour was horrific, losing all the members of his unit except Mouse...the burning Humvee...the combatants still coming towards them...

"I don't know. I just wanted to know if there were any left?" you asked.

"There probably are."

"Do you have to go back there? Do you have to leave again to go fight the bad guys?"

Jay's breath hitched. He was honorably discharged after what had happened, so he wouldn't have to back. But, as he was thinking about how to answer you, the scene changed.

Screaming. All he could hear was screaming and the crackling of flames.

He looked around saw the scene from his last tour, his Humvee flipped over with all the members of his unit currently burning to crisp. He and Mouse had been walking behind, keeping watch of their six which is why they weren't in there.

"Help! Jay Jay, help!" He heard you scream and racked his brain from where that could be coming from because you were an ocean away, no way were you actually there.

"Dude, your sister's in there!" And Mouse took off running.

Jay quickly caught up to him. "What? She's not here! She's at home in Chicago!"

"No, she's not! You couldn't bear to leave her, so you brought her with you!"

Okay, now Jay knew he was caught in the midst of a nightmare because he would never do that. He would never bring a little girl into the midst of a war where she could get hurt or killed. Damn that melatonin he took that night because he was currently in so deep a sleep that he couldn't wake up.

"Jay Jay!"

He took off running again and came up to the edge of the Humvee. Your leg was crushed under it and it was one of the only parts of the vehicle that hadn't caught fire...yet. He needed to get you out and he needed to get you out fast or else you would be burned to death. But, to do that, he knew he'd be sacrificing your leg.

"Mouse! Get me a tourniquet and the biggest knife you have! Make sure you sterilize it!" Jay shouted. You let out a whine.

"You're doing a field amputation?" Mouse asked as he grabbed the supplies.

"I don't have any other choice." You let out a whimper. "Hey, hey, look at me. Focus on me. I'm gonna get you out of there."

"P-Promise?" you asked as tears ran down your cheeks.

"I promise. Now I need you to hold really still and be a brave girl, okay? Can you be brave for me?" You nodded as Mouse handed Jay the equipment for the tourniquet. "This is going to hurt," Jay warned you as he slid the piece of fabric underneath your leg and then started tying it.

You screamed out in agony.

"I know, I know. But, It's gotta be tight. It's gotta be tight, kiddo."

"Jay! Nine o'clock!"

Jay turned to his left and pointed his gun straight at the combatant.

"Jay...Jay..." he heard your voice wavering as you tried to get his attention. But, it didn't sound like your voice. It sounded lower, more mature even. "Jay, please." the voice that sounded like you was pleading now. "Jay Jay, please. You're- You're safe."

Jay snapped his eyes open.

There you were, at sixteen years old, holding your hands up in surrender. He was home, in Chicago.

"Jay, please," you whispered once more.

It was only when he looked down that he realized he must've thought you were the combatant in his dream because he had his service weapon pointed straight at you.

He dropped his gun onto his bed. "Y/N, I- you gotta believe me. That wasn't--"

But you were already running out of his room to grab your keys and get as far away from Jay as possible.

***

Will was awoken to a loud knocking on his door at 2:37 in the morning. "Who the fuck is here right now?" he muttered as he rubbed his eyes and stood up and threw on a shirt.

But, all his anger at being woken up at this ungodly hour washed away as he looked through the peep-hole and saw you, tears still streaming down your face.

He yanked the door open. "Y/N, what are you doing here?"

"He pointed a gun at me!" you wailed as you entered.

Will shut the door and made his way over to you. "Who? Did you tell Jay? Where were you?"

"Jay was the one who did it, Will! He pointed the- the gun right at me!"

Will's breath caught in his throat. He had his hunches that Jay was having nightmares again based on what you had told him and based on him falling asleep while driving and based on his blood work, but he didn't think they'd have gotten this bad. "Are you okay? he asked you quietly.

You shook your head and Will led you over to the couch.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

You sighed. "I heard him scream, so I woke up to see what was wrong. When I walked- When I walked into his room he was squeezing his pillow with his hand like he was holding something. He was dripping sweat."

You paused and took a deep breath.

"It's okay," Will told you. Take your time."

"Then, he just, he just whipped around and grabbed his gun from- from on top of his nightstand. I don't why it wasn't in the safe where it usually is. And that's when he..."

"That's when he pointed it at you?"

You nodded as tears rolled down your cheeks. "I said his name over and over and he finally snapped out of it."

"And that's when you came here?"

You nodded again.

"Well, how about we put on a movie, and then you can try to get some sleep. I'll stop over at Jay's tomorrow when you're at school. I'm pretty sure you have some clothes here just in case."

"Thanks, Will."

"No problem, Short Stack."

***

Jay heard a knock on his door the next day. Will had texted him and told him that you were safe and at his place because Jay had been blowing up Will's phone looking for you. So, at least he wasn't worried about that anymore.

Jay sipped his beer and waited for the knocking to stop, but it just became increasingly louder.

"Jay, open the damn door!"

Reluctantly, with beer still in hand, Jay stood up and opened his apartment door. "What the hell are you doing here?" Jay asked.

"Gimme that," Will said as he ripped the beer bottle from Jay's hand after he'd entered his apartment. "And, for your information, I'm making sure you're not drinking yourself to death." He looked around at the two other empty beer bottles on the counter. It wasn't even one o'clock in the afternoon yet. "Which, I guess I came just in time."

"Just let me drink it." Jay tried to take the bottle back, but Will held it out of his reach. Then, he made his way over to the kitchen sink and poured it out.

"Shit, man. I paid for that."

"I don't really give a damn right now, Jay. You pointed a fucking gun at our little sister. She came to my place bawling last night. You're lucky she didn't get into a car accident because of how distraught she was when she was driving."

"I know, I know. I fucked up, okay?"

"Oh, yeah, you fucked up all right. This is probably the single-handed worse thing you've done in your entire life."

"Did you just come here to lecture me?" Jay yelled. "If so, the door's that way and you can get the hell out!"

Will sighed. "I didn't come here just to do that, but I needed to get that out first. You need to talk to someone about this, Jay."

"I'm talking to you. Isn't that enough?"

"A trained professional."

"You are a trained professional."

"I'm a trained medical professional, not a trained psychological professional."

Jay sat on the couch and put his head in his hands. That scene from last night had been replaying in his head for almost twelve hours now.

Him hearing your voice...seeing you with your hands raised while they were shaking...how much of whisper your voice was...the feeling of guilt that swallowed him whole when he noticed he was holding his service weapon...you sprinting out of the house in the middle of the night...

"Jay," Will said, snapping him out of his thoughts. "You still with me?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm still here. Sorry." He paused. "Last night, I guess I was so out of it that I forgot to lock up my gun and left it on my bedside table. If I had just locked it up, this wouldn't have happened. If I just wouldn't have taken the melatonin, this wouldn't have happened. If I was just able to fucking sleep this wouldn't have happened."

"How long haven't you been sleeping?" Will asked gently.

"The nightmares started when I shot that little girl, Will."

"Jay, it's been weeks since that happened."

"I know. And they just keep getting worse. At first, it was Y/N who was the little girl I shot when I was chasing the offenders when the bullet went through the illegal daycare center. And then, they started turning into me being overseas and Y/N somehow being with me and her being shot over there. Last night- last night was the worst."

"You don't have to tell me what happened if you don't want to."

"Thank you," Jay replied. Because in all honestly, that was one of the worst nightmares he's ever had since getting on his medication.

"Is that why you're sleeping on Y/N's bedroom floor?"

"How'd you know? I didn't even think she knew."

"She knows. She said she'll wake up in the middle of the night and you'll be there, on her floor, with a pillow and a blanket, and you'll sneak out before she wakes up."

"I just, I needed to make sure she was safe. I needed to make sure she was still alive, Will."

"I really think you need to talk to someone. Maybe ask about getting your meds increased."

"I've been on the same dose for over two years now. You really think they'd need to be upped?"

"It's a possibility. But, we need to talk about Y/N now."

Jay sighed. "Yeah. Yeah, we do. I have no idea what to do, Will. I'm supposed to be her legal guardian and I couldn't even keep her safe. I was the one who made her feel not safe."

"I know it's gonna be hard for you to hear this," Will started, "but, she doesn't want to come back here for a little while."

"Yeah, I figured that when she didn't answer my texts."

"Listen, she and I talked this morning, and if you go see someone today or tomorrow and see someone about getting your meds upped, she'd stay with me for two weeks so the meds have time to get into your system, and then we'll go from there."

"So, all I have to do is get my meds upped?"

"Well, that might be the best option. But, I still think you should talk to someone, Jay. Either a therapist or a psychiatrist or even a veteran's support group might be helpful."

"Okay. But, can you just tell her that I'm so sorry? And that, I wasn't in my right mind? I didn't know it was her, I swear."

"I know you didn't. Now, no more drinking, you have appointments to schedule." Will paused. "Have you talked to Voight? Maybe you shouldn't be working while you're trying to figure this out."

"I do not need to take time off."

"Yes, you do. Do you want our little sister to hate you or not?"

"Fine. I'll take two weeks furlough."

"That's all I ask. Please do not get shitfaced because I will babysit you if I have to."

"Then who's gonna stay with Y/N?"

"I'll figure something out."

***

"You're sure I'm good to go back?" you asked Will as you walked into yours and Jay's apartment building.

"Y/N, he hasn't had a nightmare in a week and a half. Everything's gonna be fine," Will answered.

"I know. I know I shouldn't be scared of my own brother, but, uh, what happened that night, it was..."

"Terrifying?" Will finished for you.

"Yeah, that."

"Well, I'll be there the entire weekend in case anything happens."

"Thanks, Will."

***

Later that night, you laid in bed, trying to fall asleep. But, you couldn't. You just couldn't shake the feeling of walking into Jay's room to try and wake him from a nightmare and having a gun pointed right at you. You couldn't shake the feeling that maybe tonight was the night that Jay would have a nightmare and end up sleepwalking into your bedroom with his gun drawn.

So, you were sitting up in bed, at 3:30 am, having just finished your last movie an hour and a half ago with your lamp on and the current book you were reading open.

You heard the sound of your door opening and looked up.

You held your breath.

Jay was in your room.

"Y/N, what are you still doing awake?" he asked, slowly moving closer to you so he didn't scare you.

You sighed in relief. He was conscious. He was awake.

"I can't sleep," you answered honestly.

"Is it because of me? That you can't sleep?" You looked down and that was all the confirmation Jay needed. "Look, I'm sorry. I know I've said it a lot these past few weeks, but I'm truly sorry. You have to understand that it wasn't me."

"I know. I just, you scared you me, Jay. I was scared I was going to die that night."

"Y/N, I wouldn't be able to live with myself if that happened."

"And you haven't had any nightmares?"

"None in over ten days," he answered.

"Then why are you in my room? I know you come in here sometimes after you have nightmares."

"I came to make sure you were sleeping. Will mentioned you were nervous and I know you don't like to sleep when you're nervous."

"Oh." You paused. "Can you tell me what you were dreaming about? When you pointed the gun at me?"

"Y/N, I'd really prefer not to. I don't want to go back there."

"I get it," you said. "It's traumatic. Like how even though Dad isn't drinking anymore, I don't want to go back and live with him."

"Exactly."

You moved over. "You can come sit if you want." Jay sat down on the bed next to you and handed you Beary so that he didn't squash him. You closed your book. "Can you tell me a story?"

"Like a fairytale like when you were little and Mom would make me read those princess books to you?" Jay chuckled.

"No, maybe a you and Will story or a me and you story from I was little and don't remember much?"

Jay thought for a second until he found the perfect one filed away in his brain under Y/N stories. "Do you remember that time when you brought your first aid kit on your bike because you had just made it in girl scouts?"

"A little, but not really."

"Okay, I'll tell you that one then."

"Jay Jay!" little seven-year-old you exclaimed as you run up to Jay. "Ride bikes with me?"

"I think my bike has a flat tire, but I can get my skateboard. Is that okay with you?" Jay asked.

"Yeah! But Mommy said you gotta wear a helmet because she said we gotta protect our heads," you told him while putting your hands on your hips.

"That's right! How could I forget that? I'll be right back and then we can go, okay?"

"Okay!"

While Jay ran off to find his bike, you ran off to get your first aid kit that you had just made in girl scouts and Beary to put in the little basket on the front of your purple princess bike.

You waited for him and when he reappeared with his skateboard and helmet, he asked what you had.

"Beary and this I made in girl scouts yesterday," you told him. "It has bandaids and this white tape and white soft stuff and wipies."

You handed it to him to take a look. Inside, there were different sizes of bandaids, medical tape, gauze, and antiseptic wipes. "This is such a good first aid kit, kiddo!"

"Thank you!"

You got your bike out of the garage and clipped on your helmet. Jay pressed down on the horn attached to your handlebars before stepping onto his skateboard.

You two rode down the street and then Jay got to a ramp that some kids had made. There was one ramp, a gap, and then another ramp.

"Jay Jay!" you exclaimed. "Can you go on that?"

Jay had gone on homemade skateboard ramps like those hundreds of times. Hell, he'd even made one home and he and Will would do kickflips in the air when going on it when your guys' mom was home. She'd have a heart attack if she saw her sons doing that.

"I can even do a trick while I'm in the air," Jay told you.

"Really?" you asked, your eyes going wide.

"Really. Wanna see?"

"Yes please!"

Jay started a few yards back from the first ramp and started propelling himself forward, gaining speed. Then, your jaw dropped as he skated onto the first ramp and into the air.

"Whoa," you whispered to yourself as he did his kickflip in midair between the two ramps.

But, Jay had overestimated the distance between the two ramps, so when he landed, he landed on the road and not the ramp with way too much force, causing him to fall off his skateboard and land on the ground, scraping his hands across the road.

"Jay Jay!" you yelled as you quickly kicked down your kickstand and grabbed your first aid kit. "Are you okay?" you asked.

Jay stood up and grabbed his skateboard. "I'm fine. Just a little blood, nothing to worry about."

"You're bleeding? Where? I can fix it."

He held up his right hand where his palm was a little bloody. You started to open your first aid kit and Jay knew there was no point in arguing with you, so he just crouched down to your height.

You grabbed a bandaid and started to open it. "You gotta clean it out first, nurse," Jay told you.

"Oh. With the wipey-thingies?"

"Yes, with those."

You opened one of the antiseptic wipes--with Jay's help because those were really hard to open!--and wiped down his palm. Then, you put the bandaid on.

"All better!" you exclaimed as you put the trash back into your first aid kit. "Can we keep going?" you asked.

"We sure can!"

You ran back to your bike and put the first aid kit into the basket next to Beary and then you got on your bike and caught up to Jay. And then, you were off around the block again.

"We really thought you were going to be a doctor or a nurse after that," Jay said. "But, then you realized you hated both math and science." He looked down at you. "Oh, you're asleep."

He set your book on your nightstand and turned off the lamp. Then, he slowly crept out of your room and closed the door, and went back to his room to fall into a nightmare-less sleep.

Despite Will sleeping on the couch, things were back to normal in yours and Jay's apartment and neither of you could've been happier.

A/N: Hey guys, I wanted to get this posted before I'm away for the weekend and probably without internet. As always, thank you for reading, and please reblog/like and comment! I love hearing what you guys think, as it gives me tons of motivation to keep writing! If you want to be added to my taglist, just tell me and I’ll add you!

taglist: @theambracer88 @virtualreader @kelelas-life @celyndavies @brookerz122493 @musicismyescape27 @anotherfan07 @thexplosivegirl @dreamingwithlens @xoxmariaxox @onechicago18 @iamasimpingh0e @i-like-sparkly-things

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revisionaryhistory · 4 years ago

Text

Three Days ~ 55

~*~Sebastian~*~

I stared at her. Stunned. I'm not sure if it's how the conversation went or she wants me and whatever comes with me. Emma is so intentional. Her words carry meaning. She wants to be clear and asks for clarity. This is heaven for my overthinking brain. I’m not stuck wondering what she means nor am I afraid to ask. Because I know she'll answer. Really answer.

"I've got eight years on you, how are you the more mature one?"

"Stabilizing influence and frighteningly direct communication of my second dad."

The expression on her face and deadpanned delivery had me laughing. "I can see that. I'll be the emotionally reactive one and you can be the calming one." Then I remembered. "Although, Eli did tell a story about you laying into some guy in Hawaii at a volleyball game. Ed dumped you in the ocean. I wish there was video."

"There is. You'll have to get dad to send it to you."

Tuesday was a good day. Workout was hard and my abs were already sore, but we'd laughed a lot. Good phone call with mom. The house had come together, she was enjoying some time in the pool, and she'd picked up some piano students. My afternoon was spent in my manager, Emily's, office. Mostly she and I, but a few conference calls. I was about to be busy. The next six weeks I was more gone than home. I was excited about the work. Excited to see friends.

Admittedly, the timing wasn't the greatest, new relationship and all, but I was confident we'd figure it out. This is different. I'd like to say it was because my previous experience is whining and bitching about me being gone so long, knowing I was going to pay for the distance, and trying to front-load my leaving to make it more palatable. While all of those all true, the actual difference is I care. The emotionally unavailable hot and cold thing comes into play here. I put up a wall to block the whining and bitching, not really listening, because it's my job. Bitching at me isn’t going to change anything and I’m not going to feel guilty for doing my job. Well, I do, but it just pisses me off because I shouldn’t. The expectation of gifts, dinners, or a vacation to make up for being gone made those a lot less fun. And I was never successful at cramming a bunch of stuff in before I left, because my work didn't start when I left. It starts weeks before. I don’t leave for filming for a month, but I’m already prepping: gym reading, watching things, research, and studying the script. I get pretty singularly focused. I don't know any other way. And when pushed I shut down. I don't respond. I brood. And I appear cold. None of this is right. Some just is. Some is my fault. Getting to where I didn't care about her (any of the previous hers) feelings and concerns with me gone was a side effect of shutting down and I regret doing that. It wasn’t that I didn’t care about her feelings. It was feeling ineffectual to do anything about it and my self-protection kicking in. Looking back, saying effectively “deal with it” was incredibly insensitive. Not proud of it.

But now, sitting here looking at my schedule I’m finding places I can find some time for us. We’ll figure it out. I can tell you what won’t happen. Emma won't whine where I block her out. She's not going to emotionally blackmail me for things, which will make me want to give. And she’ll leave me alone to prep, let me bounce things off her, or cook something to remind me to eat. I need all of those. I care how Emma's going to feel about me being gone. I care about what we’ve begun and how we'll keep in touch. I also know that while I'm away she will carry on living the life she had before she had me and be just fine.

Emma had practice tonight and a game tomorrow. It was after eight when she called. She was in a tank top and her hair was wet from her shower. I caught up on her day before leading into mine. "I have good news and bad news."

"OK." Emma drug out the word, wary of my response.

"When I get back from Canada, I've got some time to spend with you. Then I’m gone for the month of July. Fashion show, audition and meetings, comic con, then filming in Rome." Playing off last night’s conversation, I added. "I'm not expecting a bad reaction."

"Well, that's good." Her hand moved toward the screen and I chose to believe she was touching my face. "I'II miss you, but I’m excited for you. And me getting to hear about what you're doing. Living vicariously."

I'd had some time to think. I had a lot of thoughts on plans. This was the soonest. "You get back Tuesday, doubleheader Wednesday, and I get back late Thursday. What's your weekend look like?"

"Empty. I'll come to you. You'll barely be home if you come here. I can come anytime Friday. I'll be done with work except maybe packing up my room. I can do that whenever."

"Early Friday. Thursday night." I wanted to maximize our time. "I have to do some work."

"I can amuse myself."

"Maybe the shop you liked so much will be having a sale?" I laughed at the way her eyes lit up. "July fourth weekend I'm at a fashion show. Wanna go to Paris?"

"What?" Her face moved closer to the screen. I’d surprised her.

"Not necessarily Paris, but near. The third is the show. Have you been to Paris?"

"Family spent the summer in Europe when we were thirteen. Then Pearl Jam tours. Love Paris."

"Not much more than a long weekend, but museums and I'm sure we can find some romantic Paris shit to do."

"I would love to go to Paris with you."

That was good because I'd already made reservations. "California for about two weeks then straight to Italy for at least that. Depends on how long shooting takes. Hopefully back in time to join you in Chicago. Then nothing until the end of August. Will and I had been talking about a group of us going away. We were waiting for my schedule. What do you think about a group trip and we stay a little longer or go off alone? It would be a beach somewhere."

"You going to rub sunscreen on me?"

"Um yay, part of my volleyball job. Beer bitch and sunscreen applier."

“I’m in."

"End of August is a Disney thing. Labor Day weekend is the Toronto Film Fest. Little stuff in there, nothing big. No idea past then."

She laughed, eyes wide, and moving her head in all directions "It's crazy like a tour schedule. I'm jealous. I love touring."

"I thought about Rome, but the schedule's tight. You wouldn't see me."

"I wasn't trying for an invite. I'll get some of my summer PD hours done so I won't have to worry about them. Make sure I've got time for us."

I leaned back on the couch, "That was easy."

She glared at me. "I thought you weren't expecting a bad reaction?"

I shook my head, "No, no, I wasn't. Just an observation. Thought I might have to talk you into the beach." I held it a second before smiling, "Not really. I do know it’s a lot."

"I will always go to a beach."

"You’re not allowed to play volleyball."

"Did you get the video from dad?"

"About an hour ago." I'd enjoyed it several times. "You're a feisty little thing."

Wednesday was a day of pictures and texts. After the gym, I settled in my extra room to prep. I had my laptop on the table, a stack of books on top of my script, and a huge bottle of water. I took a picture and posted it to Instagram along with one of me with a pencil between my teeth and pulling my hair.

Emma ~ How'd you get a picture of your expression during your last blow job?

Sebastian ~ Hidden camera in bedroom. You should see the other things I have. Coupling Season 1. "The Cupboard of Patrick's Love."

Emma ~ “You really don't have enough blood for both ends of your body, do you?"

Sebastian ~ Very good, Sally.

Love that she can quote one of my favorite shows.

After lunch, Emma posted a picture of her in the middle of a group hug with her students. "I'll miss my munchkins.” I sent a sad face emoji.

Then I fell into a hole. I got pulled into my research and reading and the next time I picked up my phone it was one a.m. I need time like this and put my phone on do not disturb. The only thing that comes through is two calls from the same number within a few minutes. Anyone important knows how to reach me. Emma knew, but she didn't. Not even when the Demonic Crickets won their game. She posted several pictures, but I got a much better one in a text. Emma with her back to the camera in her team tank, arm up flexing her bicep, and her looking over her shoulder smiling at me. The gold flecks in her eyes were sparkling and the darker ring made the green more intense.

Emma ~ Hope you're getting a lot done. Internally anyway. XOXO

Sebastian ~ * 12 hours later * Yeah, I did. I'm hungry. Congrats on the win. Picture is beautiful.

Sebastian ~ You're beautiful

Her thank you came while I was working out. After a shower, I fell back into my hole until it was time for therapy.

I'd been seeing Celie for a long time. Frequency varied. She had a dark brown bob, glasses, and a round face. At this point, I could read her as well as she could me. If she was looking at me over her glasses, she thought I was full of shit. No words needed. She was about ten years older than me and her style worked for me. It was a great one-sided friendship.

I took my regular spot on the blue couch, "How are you today, Celie?"

Celie smiled. She had the unconditional positive regard thing down. I say that, but she does genuinely like me. Most of the time. I can be a pain in the ass. "I've had a good day and after you I get to go home. You seem to be in a good mood. Tell what's going on with you, Seb."

I was always her last client of the day. Sometimes I needed more than an hour. "I am in a good mood. I met somebody. Last time I saw you I was going to help my parents move. I met Emma there. In a grocery store, if you can believe that."

"Sounds like you can't."

"I asked her to dinner in under fifteen minutes."

She widened her eyes in disbelief. Exactly my point. "Did you? Good for you, Seb. A complete stranger. What led you to ask her out?"

"I was all covered up and she tells me I looked like a rehab patient checking into the clinic up the road. But she was kind to me. A sketchy stranger. She didn’t know who I was until we were outside and I introduced myself. She helped me find the things on my list and we chatted." I put my hands in front of my chest, fingers splayed. "She felt good. I didn't know why, just enough that I knew I wanted to know more.”

“And what do you know now?”

I spent the next several minutes telling Celie the salient points. We’ve been doing this long enough that explaining isn’t necessary. She’ll recognize why things are important. My face hurt from smiling after I was finished talking about Emma. I stopped short of the whole conversation on Sunday.

“Besides the obvious early relationship high, how are you feeling about all this?”

“Good. Happy. Hopeful. The only concerning thing was Saturday I woke up from a night terror, panic attack. I got myself calmed down pretty quick, wrote for a while, and once Emma got up I went for a run.”

“Even with being happy, there’s been quite a bit of emotional activity. I’m pleased that you’ve only woken up once. Much better. What do you suspect triggered you?”

I took a deep breath, “Emma and I wound up in this conversation Sunday afternoon. A couple of my friends at the party had told her I wasn’t acting like I normally do with women, but more like I am with friends. This led to a conversation about my relationship issues. I’m not the same with her. She really doesn’t know that version of me. I think that’s why I had the anxiety. It was the night after the party but before the conversation. First time we’d been around my friends. I think it was not because I’m scared, but because I’m not. Like you said, there’s been a lot of emotional shit going on and I’m good. Remarkably good.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“Emma is different. She’s incredibly kind and is . . . gentle. Not weak though. She’s strong.”

Celie shook her head, “When I think of gentle people it’s a combination. They can be painfully truthful, but their manner makes others able to listen. They have a compassion for others.”

“Exactly! I noticed she knew everyone. She talked to everyone and used their name. I asked and she said she looked at their nametags and you never know what someone’s day has been. That might be the first nice thing that’s happened all day. I know it’s a little thing, but it’s her. She’s like that with me. She doesn’t try to talk me out of being anxious or overthinking. She doesn’t think my insecurities are stupid. They’re all just part of me.”

“She accepts you.”

“Right. The more we got to know each other, the more we talked, I felt safe. She doesn’t do those things I usually shut down over. I don’t feel the need to protect myself. She’s very different.” Celie was looking at me over her glasses. Uh oh. “You’re giving me the look.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Why? I thought I was doing good. I asked out a stranger and got this amazing woman.”

“Sebastian, as quick as you are to fault yourself, you’re slow to take credit.”

“Take credit?” I didn’t know what she was talking about.

She leaned forward, putting her elbows on her knees. “You think this relationship is different because of Emma. You lucked out and met an accepting, kind, gentle person.”

“Yes. No. Both. Emma is different and she makes me different.”

Celie made a loud, jarring beeping noise. This was new.

“Ok, I guess I’m wrong.”

“You are. Not completely. You’re not giving yourself enough credit. Any credit. You’ve worked very hard. You’ve read. You’ve journaled. You’ve talked. You’ve done things I’ve asked you to even if you didn’t understand or want to. I’ve seen you grow. To give responsibility for this relationship being different all to Emma is dangerous. What��s going to happen when she falls off this pedestal you’ve put her on? Is that going to be an excuse to shut down and protect yourself? Fall back on old habits.”

I could feel my eyebrows pulled down and the scowl on my face. “So you’re saying this isn’t as good as I think it is.”

“Not at all. I’m saying it’s got as much to do with you as it does her. Previously you would have never asked out a woman you met in a grocery. But that seems to be the furthest you’re going with how you’re different. I do not believe for one second that no other woman you’ve gone out with has been kind and accepting. Or would have been if you would have been able to show them you. You used to do things to test them. You’d say or do things to see how they’d react. As we’ve talked, you weren’t being real, so you don’t know that their reactions were.”

I nodded then looked down, “I know. Pretty manipulative.” I felt Celie’s hand on my arm and looked back up. Her face was very soft with a smile.

“Stop, Seb. You need to be proud of yourself. You are doing things differently. You have learned from your past, grown, and come a long way in accepting yourself. Warts and all. You have shown Emma who you are, even the parts you don’t like so much. She can have credit for how she’s responded to you, but you deserve the credit for being brave enough to show her in an honest and authentic way. That allowed her to respond in an equally honest and authentic way.”

I grabbed a tissue from the ever-present box on the table and wiped the wet from my face. Neither the first nor the last time I’d cry in this room.

"If you had met her even a year ago, with her exactly as she is now, this relationship would be very different."

"The wedding."

"Excuse me?"

Yeah, non sequitur. "I was supposed to go to a friend’s wedding last summer but didn't because there was a change in my shooting schedule. Emma was at the wedding. You're right. Had I met her then," I shook my head. “I wouldn't have been ready for her and now could have never happened."

Celie shrugged, "Probably not."

I sniffed and wiped my eyes, "How do I get her off this pedestal I’ve put her on?"

"You seem pretty smitten. Maybe not take her off, just lower it a little." I laughed and she went on. "What you do is own your part. You have been making choices to improve yourself. You have been making choices to go out of your comfort zone. And you have been making choices to let her know you. Emma's been making similar choices to be with you. I'm sure you know what she's come through to be where she is. It seems like you complement each other. Recognize this is both of you waking up and choosing to be with each other. Talk and negotiate what that means. Tell her what you want. And when you're not talking you listen. Listen to what she needs from you. The most important for you is to keep processing the feelings with her. She's the only one who can help those make a picture. And you need to give her the same gift. She has things she’s not so proud of and afraid for you to know about her. We all do. You will need to accept her and treat her with gentle kindness she gives you.”

I was crying again. "She told me. I told her she was different than the others. She asked if maybe I was different."

Celie snickered, "I like her."

"You would. She speaks therapy."

"I want to be very clear, Seb. She sounds wonderful and she may make you better. You sound wonderful and I bet you make her better too. That’s how it should work in a relationship. You help each other along. It takes two people with self-awareness making choices to do what it takes. You both have to choose growth, honestly, humility, vulnerability, and sacrifice. I hear you holding up your end. I’ve not heard you do this before. And while she may be the right woman, you've become the right man. Please, please, do not underestimate how much work you've put in to become the right man for another person.”

"I want to go home and cry for an hour or so."

"I wish Emma was here for you."

I shook my head with a grimace, "It's going to be ugly until I get it out."

"Yes. I think Emma would want to be there to hold you and you'd find more acceptance and comfort in that than you can imagine."

At home, I grabbed a beer, sank down in my favorite chair, and cried. I felt everything all at once but fought to untangle the threads. Sad was remnants of the past and dissipated quickly. Its friends regret and shame fought a little harder to stick around, but they were toxic and needed to go. Pride and relief were together too. Celie was right. I had worked hard. An infinite number of hours had gone into figuring myself out. There have been so many times I thought I'd be stuck forever. Sometime in the last two years that I've been without a girlfriend, all the work must have come together. In the last two years I've been filming almost nonstop. Five movies have come out. Two of which were Marvel circuses. It's like all the therapy (and the work that goes with it) knitted me back together while I was busy filming and living my life. Celie had told me to trust the process. I couldn't rush it or make changes happen before it was time. Patience. I am inherently impatient. Pride was for the work. Relief was for seeing results. Finally.

Next was happy. I’m in a good place. I'm excited about the movie I’m making. I have supportive, fun friends, and a loving family. I don't need a girlfriend to be happy, but one does bring everything together. I like having a person who is mine. Mine in the sense of us experiencing life together. The good and bad. I like that. I want that. And now I have it. The beginnings of it, anyway.

After I pulled my shit together, I wanted to talk to Emma. I wanted support. Maybe not support, but I felt raw. I wanted someone to soothe the raw nerves, to sit with me while all this new stuff integrated. I wish she was here. What I needed was a hug.

Sebastian ~ Can you talk?

I don't like that I asked. It feels insecure and I have zero reasons to feel insecure. I quickly decided to cut myself some slack.

My phone rang and I connected to FaceTime. "Hey." Her bright smile and obvious happiness to see me did wonders to soothe those raw nerves.

Emma's face went from a smile to wide-eyed concern. "Sebastian, what’s wrong? You look like you've been crying. What happened?" Before I could answer, she jumped to a correct conclusion. "You had therapy. Good, bad, or cathartic tears?"

"Mostly the last one."

Her hand went to her chest, "Ok." She picked up what I assumed was her iPad and crossed to the chair in her bedroom. I could see her pull her knees up when she put her feet on the ottoman. She rested the iPad on her knees.

"Mostly a repeat of what we talked about Sunday. Celie said I wasn't giving myself enough credit for the work I've done. My growth."

As Emma had alluded to the same thing, I expected a smile or some acknowledgment of her asking if I was different. Instead, I got, "What do you think?"

"I think I still need to work on not being so hard on myself." I smiled because that statement was me still being hard on myself. "When Celie pointed out how I've changed I could see it and was proud of myself. I can’t see it on my own yet, but I'll get there. I never thought anyone would get past my walls. It wasn't someone getting in, it was me getting out." More goddamned tears.

Emma reached out and touched the screen. "I‘m so happy for you. Proud of you too."

Her words felt like a hug. Close enough for now. "Thank you."

"I know you're a grown man, but I wish I was there. Crying alone sucks."

"Oh," I laughed a little, "the chances of us having a messy reunion are high."

"Why?"

"A lot of you and I talk today. I know me, it's gonna hit me when I see you."

"I should warn you. I have a strict policy that nobody cries alone in my presence."

I smiled at her exaggerated southern accent with the "Steel Magnolias" quote. "See ... gonna be messy."

#Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #fanfiction

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