an erin original

Addendum, Part Twenty-Five (Chicago P.D.)

Title: Addendum

Chapter: Coming and Going (Part Twenty-Five)

Fandom: Chicago P.D.

Rating: T/PG-13

Author’s Note: This chapter is set directly before the first scene with Erin and Jay in bed in “The Silos” (4x01), and it is an attempt to bridge the gap between the two seasons. I thought Erin’s headspace about Hank going into the fourth season was pretty clear, and I was intrigued by the way she was and wasn’t leaning on Jay (i.e. inviting him over to her place to sleep, presumably telling him that she was meeting with Crowley given their “How’d it go?” conversation yet keeping him handcuffed on how to help her). So I decided to explore how much Jay might have known about where Erin went after she hung up on him, how he felt about the traps being sprung for her and Voight by Crowley, and how might have come to decide that moving in together was the best solution for what she was going through.

Before the chapter begins, though, I wanted to offer a huge thank you to those of you who stuck with this story after I took a year long hiatus from writing it and those who picked it up in the last few months . I’d love to hear any final feedback on this story that you may have.

The relentless rain beats against the windshield; a torrential downpour rather than a pitter-patter that has turned the streets into rivers and cleared the sidewalks around the city as people seek refuge inside their homes. Occasionally, a lone individual with the lapels of their trench coat pulled up to their ears or a couple huddled under a shared umbrella hurry past his parked car, past the Mom and Pop stores flipping over to chain coffee shops and clothing retailers thanks to the shiny, new high-rise forming above.

But, for the most part, the sidewalk remains deserted, and he only has to give each person a passing glance to ascertain if they’re waiting for him or not. Waiting to show off the high-rise building looming over the street, to talk square footage and amenities with him.  

The spec sheet the realtor sent over two nights ago is pulled up on his phone, and he glances down at it. Lets his eyes skim over words about how the place has two bedrooms and underground parking and access to a gym as he tries to figure out what she would say about the place. If she would be willing to overlook the lack of  “real” Chicago character for a place where she doesn’t have to shovel out her car in the morning or wake up early to get across town to Antonio’s.

Yet the early hours haven’t seem to affect her over the last few days. He’s awoken twice now to the feeling of her slipping out of his bed and once to the sound of the front door of her apartment clicking shut behind her. Spent three nights wondering how she is and what she’s up to until the wee hours of the morning when she didn’t answer her phone, and two other nights when she did answer her phone, when she showed up at his place or told him to come over feeling like she’d rather he go.

Feeling like she’d rather he leave her alone as he reclines on her couch beside her nursing a beer and not talking about Justin. As he sits across the bullpen from her and doesn’t acknowledge that the photographs and notes pulled from the unit’s whiteboard and handed over to Commander Crowley are just a bunch of dead ends now. As he slips under the sheets beside her and doesn’t ask about the ball of wet clothes left in the corner of her bedroom.

At least, this place – with its gentrifying neighborhood and ubiquitous appearance – has a washer and dryer in a unit. Offers him the chance to lander those clothes, to remove the reminders of where she went when he told her that Voight wasn’t at the house with him or the rest of the unit without it becoming obvious what he’s doing. Without implicating what he knows – or, at least, thinks he knows – about the hour and a half gap between his phone call to her and the 300 arriving back in the District’s parking lot by doing a load of laundry at her place instead of his own.

By completing a silent yet physical omission that he thinks there is something to that pile beyond those being the clothes she was wearing when she and Voight found Justin. That the evidence Crowley is going to be looking for when the team she has assigned to Justin’s case finds only dead ends in the folders and evidence boxes he and Dawson handed over is actually laying in the corner of Erin’s bedroom.

The thought causes him to sigh, causes the knot in his stomach that has been there since he heard her voice over the radio calling out for an ambulance to tighten because this played out in both a way he expected  – with Voight possibly getting a moment alone with their main suspect – and a way he didn’t with her possibly getting snagged up while the rest of the team was offered plausible deniability.

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