Chapter Two

The world closed in on her. Imogen could feel hands around her throat, a sharp, unending pain spiking downwards as the man crushed her vocal chords. She couldn't breathe. She tried to scream.

Her attacker had no face. More a shadow than a man, Imogen thrashed. Or, she tried. Something held her down. She couldn't move. The attacker faded into darkness and in a moment of horrible realization, Imogen remembered where she was.

Her eyes shot open. Digging her fingernails into the white hospital sheets, she stared up at the soft lights above and counted backwards from fifty. No more darkness, no hands around her throat. Just a hospital ceiling, an itchy IV, and pain all across her body from the firefight the day before.

As she reached zero, Imogen sat up in bed. She tore her focus away from the ceiling. The machines still droned on with their beeping. The IV drop continued to give her saline and painkillers.

But as she turned towards the door, she paused. The visitor's chair wasn't empty. Partially curled up sat Jay Halstead, unmistakable even though she hadn't laid eyes on him in five years. His eyes were closed and his mouth in a thin line.

Will must have called him. Imogen felt her heart pounding in her chest. She didn't want to see the hurt in his eyes. She'd already witnessed one Halstead's anger. She didn't need another.

A refillable plastic straw cup sat just beyond her reach at the side table. As she twisted in her bed to grab it, she gasped out a curse. She felt like someone had driven a dagger through her chest. Tears welled in her eyes. She heard a sigh and a rustle of fabric and metal.

"What the hell, Imogen."

Jay. His voice sounded strained, tired. Imogen looked at him closer. He'd stood from the chair, arms folded with his black sleeves bunched up around the elbows. He walked over to her hospital bed.

Imogen sighed. She ran a hand through her hair, painfully aware of the scabbing that had begun to form across her forehead. She shook her head.

"You look terrible," he said.

Pain shot up her chest again as she cracked a smile and couldn't help but chuckle. Imogen groaned. "Don't make me laugh."

Jay scoffed. He gripped on the plastic guard rail of her bed. After a pause, he turned from looking at her bed to looking her in the eye. "I'm glad you're not dead."

"So am I."

The steady beep of the machines and sensors reminded Imogen of her own heartbeat. With a small smile she nodded at Jay. He moved back from the bed and pulled the chair a bit closer away from the wall.

"I talked to Voight. He's sending someone over with a change of clothes and credit card from your old unit," he said. "Will said you can be discharged tonight."

Discharged. Imogen sat up a bit more. She ran hand through her hair as she thought about all the logistics to figure out. Hotel room, clothing, food. She didn't have work, though she knew the District would give her some paid time off. She'd need to go apartment hunting.

"Where'd they have you working?"

She flashed him a smirk. "That's classified."

To her delight, that got the reaction she wanted. He let out half a laugh and shot her the shit eating, sassy grin she remembered from years of working together.

"Is that so?" With another huff he just sat further back in his chair. "Heard it was FBI and then 6 months in Deep back with CPD. Always an overachiever."

"Takes one to know one, Jay."

Someone knocked on the door. Jay twisted in his chair and waved once. Through the door came a man with a slightly more muscular build than Jay, brown hair, and a scruffy but short beard. He carried a small black duffle bag.

"So, this is where you ran off to, Jay?" He moved a few feet in and closed the door behind himself.

Jay stood up. He accepted the duffle bag from his friend and passed it to Imogen. "Thanks. Adam Ruzek, Detective Imogen Adler."

"Ma'am."

Imogen nodded. "You work in Intelligence as well?"

"Yes, ma'am. That I do," he said. "How do you two know each other? Don't think I've seen around the 21st."

"We were partners for years," Jay said. "Did patrol and a brief stint in Organized Crime."

"And grew up together," Imogen said.

Ruzek smirked. "Ah, I see."

Another knock at the door drew their attention away. Moments later, Will came in with a tablet. He exchanged pleasantries with Ruzek before moving over to the bed.

"Well, your blood work and neurological exams have all been fine. If you fill out the discharge paperwork, you'll be good to go."

Imogen's throat ran dry. Will didn't even look her in the eyes. He still held that brooding anger she knew all too well from both Halstead boys. With a clenched jaw and tight grip on the tablet, he waited several silent moments before handing it over to her.

"Thank you," she said, voice low.

"I'll be back in a minute."

Ruzek watched the exchange with obvious curiosity but said nothing. As Will let the door close behind himself, Jay just scoffed. He rocked back and forth on his heels, arms across his chest.

Imogen knew that look. That was the look he got when he wanted to bite someone's head off. "Jay."

He glanced back at her. "He should be grateful you're not actually dead."

If only. She didn't have a response for him, so she started on the paperwork. Ruzek still hadn't left. Imogen couldn't tell if he was too intrigued by her prior relationship to Jay or if he just hadn't found the right moment to leave. Luckily there wasn't much to do besides some signatures.

Taking out a change of clothes from the duffle bag Ruzek had brought, she left the tablet on the bed and stepped into the bathroom. Every step sent burning pain through her body but she ignored it. As she pulled on the red tank top, black jeans, and black boots, Imogen half listened to Ruzek and Jay out in the main room.

"Hey, while I appreciate that these clothes fit me, it's early spring in Chicago and this isn't going to keep me warm," she said.

They both turned to her when she reentered the main room. Jay shook his head and turned to Ruzek. "Voight didn't send her a coat?"

"Hey, man, I'm just the messenger. I didn't put the bag together." He turned back to her. "Sorry, ma'am."

She waved him off. "It's fine. I've got more to figure out than just how to get a coat. There a credit card in there?"

"No, you're staying at my apartment tonight."

Jay used his cop voice. Imogen looked up from where she'd been digging in the bag. Of course he knew she'd been thinking of hotel costs.

"Jay—"

"You busted like fifty well connected criminals twenty four hours ago, and you can't defend yourself." He pointed at the bandage tightly tied around her arm, the skin already black, blue, and a sickly yellow beyond the gauze. "Don't argue with me. Take my coat, and shut your mouth."

Imogen didn't bother to argue. She grabbed his leather jacket and draped it over her forearm. He still had on a black sweatshirt he could zip up. This was a battle she knew she'd lose. And as they waited for a nurse to bring a wheelchair, Imogen realized she didn't really want to protest. It had been months since she'd had someone to worry about her.

They never saw Will. The nurse wheeled her to the doors, letting her walk once they reached the threshold. While Jay went to get his car, Ruzek stood with her, hands in his jacket pockets. The sun had set an hour ago and the wind picked up.

"So, has Jay always been such a hardass?"

Imogen cracked a smile. She turned to look at Ruzek. "I better not say."

He nodded. "Partner loyalty. I can respect that."

After a brief pause, they both let out tiny snorts of laughter. Imogen just shook her head. She'd missed banter like this.

Jay pulled up in a black truck a few moments later. Adjusting the sling the nurse had given her for her left arm, Imogen thanked Ruzek for getting the passenger side door and slipped into the car. With a quick goodnight, he closed it and Jay drove off.

"Will's being an ass," Jay said a minute later. "I mean come on! He barely said two words to you."

It was her turn to use her cop voice. "Drop it, Jay. He feels betrayed, as he should."

"It wasn't exactly a secret that you're one of the best damn undercover cops this city had."

"He's a doctor, not a cop, Jay."

Red light filled her lap as they came to a stop. Silence fell between them and without even a radio on - car or otherwise - Imogen focused instead on the headlights and traffic lights casting colors and shadows all across the streets.

A few minutes later, Jay broke the silence. "You good?"

"Hm?"

"Are you good?"

"Yeah. Why?"

Jay glanced at her before turning back to the road. "I've never heard you let someone call you "ma'am" so many times in a row as you did with Ruzek back there."

"Oh." Imogen took in a deep breath through her nose. "No. I'm fine."

He turned off the car as they pulled into a parking space along a row of beautiful brick apartments. Jay didn't move. He just left the doors locked.

"You may be great at undercover work with hardened criminals but we've got twenty five years of history that you can't bluff through, Imogen."

She sighed. Imogen ran her hand through her hair, flinching slightly as it caught in some tangles. It only reached just below her shoulders but already Imogen wanted it cut again.

"It's going to take some time to get used to being Imogen again," she said.

Jay looked at her. He didn't say anything, just examined her up and down while that sat in the car, shadows across his face from the yellowed street lamp above. Finally he nodded. With a quick, single fluid movement he unlocked the doors and stepped out into the street. Imogen did the same a moment later.

"You want anything for dinner?" he said.

Before she could respond, even as she just set foot beyond the door and into his sparsely decorated but beautiful apartment, Jay's phone rang. He answered it. While he took the call, she moved further in and took a seat on his brown couch. Must've been well used, because it sank a bit further in than she expected.

"Hey, listen," Jay said, moving over while slipping on the leather jacket she had just returned, "I'm sorry. I gotta go. Voight called us all in."

"Don't apologize."

He nodded. After a moment, he gestured around. "Make yourself at home. Bed's yours. Can't sleep on a couch with bruised ribs and a GSW."

"Go save the city, Halstead."

He let out a small, tight laugh before heading back out the door. Silence fell all around her. She took deep breaths. It was nice to be home. Any home.