Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jake blinked the sleep away, waking up with a groan. He lay in his bed, arms splayed out and sheets crumpled together at the bottom of his mattress. He picked up a hand and pulled it over his face, rubbing his cheeks.

He hated mornings.

Curling himself into a ball, he closed his eyes for as long as he could, trying to fall back asleep. But the light from the window wouldn’t let him. He rolled over, falling out of the bed and thumping on the ground with another groan. He looked up, squinting his eyes and trying to look at his alarm clock from the floor.

7:54

Shittttttt!

He stood up reluctantly, grumbling to himself as he hurried to take a shower and brush his teeth, then dressed himself in a blue shirt and leather jacket, paired with jeans. He skipped breakfast, as he was going to be late anyway. He didn’t want to make himself any later, or Holt would surely have it out for him. Just as he approached his door, he heard a shuffle.

He glanced around his messy apartment, eyes widening slightly as he searched for anything that would move.

Perhaps he was just imagining the sounds of another person’s breath.

Chills rose along his spine and a frown crossed his mouth as he quickly closed the door and locked it, placing his keys safely in his pocket and exiting the apartment building. Now he was in his car, starting up the engine as the radio began to play. He decided to leave it on instead of playing Taylor Swift, as he was interested in that weird contest they have where you guess the sound. He pulled into the parking lot for the precinct, settling his car in his spot. Before turning his engine off, he checked the time.

8:30

Oh well.

As he was about to leave his car, he glanced in the back seat. He knew he hadn’t left anything there, yet there was just some urge to do so.

Suddenly he was thankful for his urge as he stared at something he hadn’t left in his car.

Well, he at least didn’t remember putting it there.

He told himself it wasn't a big deal as he got ready to leave.

Like a knife sitting on the seat in his car wasn’t a big deal.

Swallowing his worry, he picked up his bag from the passenger’s seat and locked his vehicle, giving it one last look of fear before going into the precinct and taking the elevator up.

“Peralta, you’re thirty minutes late. Care to explain?” Holt stood just outside of the gate. Jake rolled his eyes and exited the elevator, pushing the gate open and facing his boss.

“I woke up late.” He shrugged and told him. He could feel eyes watching him as he made his way to his desk, spinning in his chair as he landed. He was quite… well… uneasy about the knife thing. What if he wasn’t imagining someone in his apartment?

“-ke?”

His head snapped up. Was someone saying his name? Amy sat across from him at her desk, her pupils brimmed with worry. “Are you OK?” She asked.

“Yep. Just had an off-putting dream.” He chuckled, hoping the forced laugh didn’t sound as hollow as it was. She gave him one last suspicious glance before looking back to her computer.

Jake leaped over the garbage bags, sprinting towards the drug dealer they had been trying to catch forever. Jake’s feet pounded against the sidewalk as he raced behind the criminal. Sean (That was the drug dealer’s name) whipped around, stopping suddenly. In a rush of panic, Jake skidded to a halt, not wanting to crash right into the perp.

That was when Boyle came flying at the criminal from an alley, tackling them to the ground. Jake ran over to help detain the criminal.

“That was so sick!” Jake told Charles as they began taking the perp to the car.

“I’m just a pro and tying down 'them perps,” Charles shrugged, smirking coolly.

“Charles!” Jake shouted, eyes tilting in worry and nose scrunching in disgust.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Jake!” Charles scoffed at him and fixed him with a glare.

Jake’s hand ran over the handle of their squad car as he pulled it open, the black door swinging towards him and revealing a leather seat. He settled into the driver’s side, glancing over at Charles who had pulled himself inside the car, right after he pushed the perp into the back seat.

Jake tuned out the conversation between Charles and Sean for most of the car ride, their voices simply as loud as the rumbling of the car to him.

“You prefer Jalapeno goat crackers to Dill goat crackers?” Charles gasped. He always had some sort of conversation with the perp in the car before doing a complete 180 in the interrogation room with them. They came to a stop at the red light, allowing Jake to lift his can of orange soda in the cupholder to his lips and take a sip.

“...roofies…” a voice whispered in the back seat. Out of instinct, Jake immediately placed his drink in the cupholder, glancing at Charles. Were they just simply having a conversation about drugs now? Nope, apparently not, because Charles was tapping on his leg and still chattering to the perp like a bird. Sean was just sitting innocently in his seat, staring at Charles as he listened to the detective ramble on and on about food. Jake was probably just hallucinating or something. But still, something just seemed off. He refrained from taking any more sips from the orange soda, despite his craving. Also, instead of tuning Charles out with normal, casual, thoughts, it was about how he might either be crazy or have been warned about being drugged or something of the sort.

Jake would certainly think of himself as stupid later to not have noticed the earpiece hidden behind Sean’s hair or the way he kept murmuring random things in a hush.

Maybe, if he would have caught that, he could have prevented the future.

Jake replayed that morning’s briefing in his head as he leaned back in his chair, both hands preoccupied on the Rubix cube he held as he thought.

“ Peralta, would you like to go over the drug bust you’re working on quickly?” Holt asked, standing next to Terry.

Peralta groaned and stood up, walking to the podium. Holt stepped away to allow Jake to stand behind it. “So far we have a few leads that Boyle and I are chasing down. We found out Sean, the perp, is going to have a meeting today with a buyer. We’ll arrest him there and get him to spill about his supplier.” Jake said, raising his chin. Charles gave him a smirk.

“ If I were you, I would wait until he’s meeting with his supplier, then bust them both,” Amy said.

“Well, Santiago, all of the buyers we’ve arrested don’t know anything about when he gets his load, so we figured this would be best.” Boyle nodded proudly.

“Well, if that concludes your speech, go ahead and sit down,” Holt told him, but Jake hesitated.

He glanced out the window and saw a figure moving around his desk, but when he took a double-take, they were gone.

“Everything alright, Peralta?” Jake turned to Holt. “

Yerp, just taking my sweet ol’ time.” Jake made his way to his seat next to Boyle and watched Holt say a few more words, Terry chiming in. Though he didn’t really watch them.

He watched the window, seeing if there was someone again. Soon, the briefing ended and Jake only realized when Charles tapped him on the shoulder after everyone was gone.

“You alright, Jake?” He asked, his tone brimmed with worry.

“Just thinking about our perpy perp,” Jake responded coolly (while not feeling so cool), and strolled out.

“Jake?”

Jake snapped up. Amy was gazing at him from her desk, one eyebrow raised.

“Hm? Oh, yeah?” He asked head tilted. She opened her mouth as if to say something else, but instead stood, eyes fixed on a box on his desk.

“What’s that?” she questioned him as she took a few steps away from her chair.

“Dunno.” Now he was intrigued. He reached over to pick it up, cradling the small blue and purple box in his palm. “Ah, I packaged some gummy worm I had the other day and left it on my desk.” His words were a straight lie. He wasn’t sure why he was lying, but he knew he didn’t need to get Amy involved in whatever this was. Anyway, his excuse was pretty believable (he thought it was, at least).

“Weirdo,” she scoffed, walking away and heading straight for the break room, her heels clicking.

His fingers brushed over the bow on the top of the box, then found a tag attached to it.

TO J. PERALTA

THANKS

His eyebrows knitted together as his fingers stretched over the lid, pulling it off and revealing what he didn’t expect it to be. It was a rose. A blood-red one, at that. Or at least he was pretty sure it was that colour.

The point where the stem had been snipped was dry and shrivelled, and the same went for the petals, which were a rotten brown colour and no longer soft. The majority had come loose from the flower and sat at the bottom of the box. He inspected the dead plant, shaking the package a few times and watching the rose fall apart even more before it revealed a petal it rested on. The petal wasn’t dead like the others, but cherry red and alive, and looked soft.

While the whole thing was unnerving, what was more was that the petal had a marking on it from Sharpie, staring up at Jake.

<3

(Later Jake found a small piece of paper attached to the top of the lid. It was filled with doodles of stickmen stabbing people and a shit-ton of blood.)

Chapter Text

From there on, it got worse.

He could always hear a strange noise coming from somewhere in his house and things would be moved around. For the next couple of days, he noticed that pens had gone missing from his apartment, plates were moved around from different spots on the counter, and the TV remote wasn’t where he left it. It was all so subtle, he just convinced himself he was imagining it.

But he wasn’t.

Other subtle changes were his phone charger had been pulled out or he would find his laptop open, wallpaper staring at him. 

He had refrained from telling any of his friends yet. If he still felt that he was crazy, they definitely would as well.

But he didn’t get by with not telling them for long.

Only a few days after he got the first ‘gift’, he got another. This time it sat right on his keyboard, the wrapping on it blue. A sentence was etched out on the top of the lid in Sharpie yet again.

I can see you looking for me.

Chills rose up his spine and he felt his eyes widen. His body went cold with dread, and in that moment, the one thing happened that he had been praying not to.

“Jake, what’s that?” Terry asked from behind him. Almost immediately, Jake whipped around, hands stretching behind his back to cover up the message on the box. 

“ Nuthinnnnn’... ” Jake responded, looking at Terry as the sergeant glared at him strangely.

“Jake, what is that?” Terry repeated, this time his voice less cheery and more serious. Jake took a deep breath before speaking.

“Just meet me in the Evidence lockers,” Jake told him. Terry eyed him suspiciously before making his way toward the requested meeting location.

Jake let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding before stuffing the gift into his desk, telling himself he would look at it later. He was about to leave for the evidence locker before he stopped, eyeing the drawer he shoved the gift in. He considered bringing it to Terry and showing him, in the evidence locker and in case he asked to see it Jake wouldn’t have to dash between his desk and the evidence locker. 

Trying to be as discreet and casual, he quickly opened the drawer and slipped the package into the crook of his arm, using his hand to cover it up. 

He slid down the hallway to the evidence locker, glancing around and making sure no one saw him. Usually, he would have been open about this and would be bragging about how he had a stalker, but it just felt so weird. And embarrassing. Yeah, sure, there was somebody obsessed with him and following him around and it made him feel like an icon, but he felt scared, and he didn’t want to tell someone about the situation and admit he was a pussy. Yet here he was, smuggling a gift into the evidence locker that had a good chance of being a bomb. 

“Hey, Sargeeeee…” Jake greeted him as he walked into the room, closing the door quietly.

“So what’s wrong?” Terry crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow and looking at Jake.

“Well, so you see, I think we have a bit of a ‘I watch you in your sleep’ situation.” Jake laughed, making his voice go deeper when he said his example. Terry glared at him with exhaustion.

“I don’t have time for this, man.” Terry sighed, reaching for the door. Without thinking about letting him leave, Jake quickly stopped him. He silently reprimanded himself for taking the chance at not telling anyone, but he knew he had to. 

“Wait, Sarge! It’s actually something important.” He quickly yelped out before the superior officer could open the door. He stepped back from the handle and looked at Jake, waiting for him to explain.

“Okay, so, I’m pretty sure, like, 99% sure, so like, a decent amount of sureness, y’know, that, uhm, I’m being stalked.” Jake fumbled with his words, ending his sentence with a grin that probably looked more sheepish than slick.

“What?” Terry exclaimed, taking a step back. His eyes widened as a frown appeared on his face. “Why do you think so?” He asked Jake, his expression appalled.

“Well, I don’t know if it’s quite concrete enough, but things have been moving around my house and into spots where I don’t recall leaving them, sometimes I can hear someone breathing in my apartment, oh, and I also found a knife in my backseat!” Jake smiled again awkwardly. 

“You better be serious right now, Peralta.” 

“See, I knew you wouldn’t believe me, so here.” He handed the gift to Terry, smiling at him as he held it, a distraught expression on his face.

“What is this, Jake?” He asked.

“Oh, yeah, maybe I should have explained. So, about a week ago I got a random gift which was a dead rose and someone put a heart on one of the petals which was just a little disturbing. And I found that on my desk this morning!” he pointed to the gift. 

Terry looked up at him with wide eyes. “Why didn’t you lead with that?” He yelled. Jake grabbed his arm and shushed him.

“Be quiet! This isn’t a big deal so we don’t need the entire precinct knowing about this.” 

“Not a big deal? Jake, you have a stalker!” Even though he protested, his voice lowered.

“Yeah, yeah, I know I’m hot.” He smiled, watching Terry roll his eyes. “Anyway, I was wondering if we should open the box.” Terry glared at him.

“Jake, this could be a bomb. This is serious.” Terry fixed him with a hard stare, but Jake still pleaded.

“C’mon! If it’s a bomb then we’ll just call bomb squad after! We don’t want to make a whole big fuss about it because there’s a teensy chance of it being an explosive. Plus, aren’t you a little curious?” 

Terry sighed. “The only way we’re getting this opened without the bomb squad is getting Holt to open it.” He told Jake, opening the door to the evidence locker and walking out with quick strides, not giving Jake the chance to stop him. He quickly dashed after him, nerves spiking through his veins. 

Amy Santiago, 10:24 A.M. 

Amy let out a huge breath after clenching her jaw for too long, leaning back in her chair in frustration. She'd been working on her case for a few days and still had no lead. She was hopeless. 

Scarlett McNally had found the body of Samuel Perkinstein on her doorstep. His body was gouged out, blood everywhere. He was so scarred his body was almost unrecognizable, if not for his teeth. Thanks to that, they were able to find out he had been a convict who was released from prison the previous year. He had been put away for 15 years because he had murdered his wife. 

Just to her luck, they couldn't find the exact cause of death, because of the many injuries the corpse had endured. They had just suspected he had been left to bleed out or was killed with a blow to somewhere. There was also no murder weapon, fingerprints, or anything that they could find to track the body. 

She had a long list of suspects she was working through, and unfortunately, most of them had died, were in prison, or had alibis. She was getting nowhere with this case, even though it had only been a few days. She knew she shouldn't drive herself too hard, but she should at least have something.

But what was it?

"Hey, Santiago. I need you in the interrogation room." Rosa's voice snapped her out of her thoughts. She stared up at her coworker and her curly black locks before getting out of her chair and following her across the bullpen and into the observation room, where across the mirrored glass sat a perp with a thick head of hair and handcuffs wrapped around his wrists with sleeves of tattoos. 

"What's up?" Amy asked Rosa, watching her friend look at the guy through the mirror and observe his movements.

"My perp asked about Samuel Perkinstein, saying he knew something. Aren't you on his case right now?" Rosa asked, turning to Amy with a question in her hard eyes. Amy swallowed and nodded, excitement rising up her throat. Finally! She knew she would have to take what the perp said with a grain of salt but if they seemed trustworthy or told her something she knew already, they could actually help her make a breakthrough. 

"I am! Can I go talk to him?" Rosa nodded, crossing her arms and working her mouth as she looked at the guy with something unrecognizable on her face. Amy turned to leave but Rosa spoke before she could open the door.

"I'm going in there with you. I don't want you to promise him something dumb." She said, and before Amy could protest, she walked ahead, opening the door and walking into the interrogation room quickly. Amy followed, stopping herself from dancing with joy at the chance of her getting information about her case which had seemed like a lost cause. 

Closing the door behind her, Amy fixed the perp with a glare before beginning to speak, taking the chair opposite from him while Rosa stood with her arms crossed, an unreadable expression crossing her face.

"Do you know anything about Samuel Perkinstein?" She asked. The guy looked up, smirking at the name and staring deep into her eyes.

"Oh, yeah. One of my most frequent buyers." He looked up, leaning back in a relaxed manner, the handcuffs pulling at his wrists. 

"Dealer," Rosa referred to the perp, gesturing to him with a nod. A bigger smile spread across his face of pride when she said that (though it wasn't something to be proud of, here he was, owning it shamelessly). 

"What do you know?" Amy asked him, watching the criminal look up at her. His eyes squinted and the tattoos on his face scrunched. He leaned forward, staring up at any with mischief in his eyes.

"I'm not telling you anything unless I get something." His mouth spread into an even wider grin and he leaned back again. 

"What do you want?" Amy asked, pretending as if she didn't see Rosa's glare.

"A few years off my sentence." He picked at his finger, his mouth opening into a toothy smile. His eyes didn't go up to Amy's or Rosa's.

Amy looked at Rosa. She frowned at Amy and shook her head, but Amy looked back to the perp. Maybe she could find something reasonable.

"Depends on what information you have."

"It's not much, just a potential lead. Not that useful, I'm sure you've already got one." He looked at Amy with a calm yet evil glint in his eyes.

"Fine. Two years for what you know." Amy placed her hands on the table, staring into his eyes, trying to intimidate him. "You better give me something true." 

"Don't worry, sweetheart. It's not like it'll cost me anything." Amy stopped every urge in her body telling her to look over at Rosa. She already knew what look the detective would be giving her. 

"Go ahead," Amy told him, settling back into her normal position. Amy could hear Rosa give a frustrated grunt behind her.

"Sam and I were pretty close. Aside from him buying stuff from me, we didn't talk much, but I knew a few things about him that I definitely wouldn't have expected to. Stuff about his job, pets, y'know. I was never one for small talk, but it seemed like he was. Anyway, when he was paying me one night his phone started going all crazy and he didn't even budge or check it. Just wanted until the person was done trying to call him. Before he left, he apologized, told me this guy was threatening him, and told him that 'What you do to others comes back to you'. He called from multiple different phone numbers a few times a day. Also, sometimes he wouldn't pick up my texts or calls about meeting up because he wasn't sure who it was. It was strange, they called him on his burner phone too." The dealer shook his head, his thick curls bouncing around. "I kinda' feel sad he's dead." Amy rolled her eyes and Rosa snorted in amusement.

"Thank you... for that." Amy finished curtly and left the interrogation room, looking anywhere but at Rosa. She thought she hadn't followed her when she left, but she was wrong.

"Amy, what was that? You just promised my perp two years off his sentence without asking me! And you promised him anyway when I said no! You can't do that!" Rosa appeared behind Amy, yelling so the entire precinct turned to watch them.

"Listen, I had no leads, no suspects, no murder weapon or anyone involved in the crime! I needed that! I have an actual lead now! Plus, two years won't do much! He's still going to prison!" Amy yelled back even though she knew she was in the wrong. She just needed that information so badly, and now she had it, she could actually figure something out! 

"He sold drugs to highschoolers and didn't warn them of anything! What if they died? Would you still do the same thing to someone who killed kids?" 

"What are you two doing? Why are you guys fighting? People are trying to work and people reporting cases and perps locked up! You're interrupting everyone and being a nuisance to the whole precinct! If you want to have a little spat, go ahead, but maybe don't do it in the middle of the bullpen!" Terry came over, Speaking before Amy could fire back. He glared at both of them until they walked away from each other with stomps in each of their steps, their mouths crossed in frowns. Amy sat at her desk but didn't get herself time to sulk about the fight. She picked up her pen and began writing notes and typing on her computer. 

Yes, she would apologize to Rosa. But she didn't have time for that right now.

She had a lead. Finally. 

All she had to do now was to follow up on it. She would get his address and ask for a warrant to search his home, and hopefully, she would find the burner phones.

Excitement bubbled up her throat as she stopped herself from screaming in joy. At that moment, she almost completely forgot about her fight with the other officer.

It didn't matter anyway. She knew it would blow over no matter what. Rosa had to understand, right? She couldn't let this become a cold case.

Rosa was still mad. But soon she wouldn't be angry at Amy. She would be thankful. 

She would be thankful because that information would help them save their friend.

This was just great.

Jake combed his fingers through his hair. He had just watched Terry walk off with the box and turn straight into Holt's office. Jake had run after him and was now in his Captain's office, Terry by his side as they sat in the chairs across from Holt. Jake looked anywhere but at the older man, not ready to face his serious and empty eyes. 

"Jake, you okay?" Terry asked suddenly. He hadn't been paying attention to their conversation because he was too busy thinking. Jake glanced at the Sergeant, making eye contact for a quick second before glancing away from him and away from Holt.

"Yeah, why would I not be? Like, there's obviously not a stalker who is stalking me." Jake awkwardly smiled, joking around nervously.

He could see through the corner of his eye Holt glaring at him.

"I'll get Detective Diaz to look through your case. I'll let you take a few days o-"

"Rosa doesn't need to work my case! It's my case, so I should work on it. I mean, isn't that the most sensible thing to do? Eh? Right?" He glanced from Terry to Holt, grinning again.

"Peralta, this isn't a joke. You could end up getting hurt, or somebody else." Holt scolded him. Jake rolled his eyes. 

"It's not that serious. Seriously." He smirked at his statement before continuing. "Why can't Terry just take it? It'll be over soon anyway, and I don't think it's really that relevant for everyone to know." He asked. Holt gave Terry a look as if asking him if he wanted to and the Sergeant nodded. He did feel bad for Jake.

"Fine. But you can't leave the Precinct without someone until we have sorted this out." Holt told him.

"I'm not a baby, and I don't need babysitting! Nothing's gonna happen, I swear. Plus, if something does, I can take care of myself." Jake leaned back in frustration.

"Jake, we just don't want you to get hurt," Terry said, looking at his friend. 

"Well, I'm not going to." Jake stood up, walking out of the door.

"Listen, I'm sorry about earlier." Amy sat next to Rosa at Shaw's. The squad decided to meet up just for fun. 

"You should be." Rosa threw back her head, drinking the rest of whatever was left in her glass then flagging the bartender down for more.

"I just really needed that. You know how frustrating it is when a case goes cold." Amy said, tipping her wine glass back as she sipped the red liquid.

"Okay, I forgive you. Just don't do something like that again. I mean it." Rosa growled, staring at Amy with a threatening look.

"Message received, loud and clear." Amy slightly chuckled, nodding her head.

They drank in silence for a little while longer, listening to the sounds of the bar.

"What kind of last name is Perkinstein anyway?" Rosa randomly asked. Amy was taken aback for a second. She definitely didn't expect Rosa to be the one initiating conversation, but here she was.

"Perkinstein?" The response didn't come from Amy. 

"Yeah?" Amy asked. Gina had approached them, her brow furrowed and lips pulled in a frown at the sound of the last name.

"I knew this guy with that same last name. His name was Samuel Perkinstein, god, I hate his guts." Gina groaned.

"Yeah, well, you must be happy to hear he's dead," Rosa told her.

"Really? He is? Finallyyyy!" Gina threw back her head and cheered.

"Why are you so happy about that?" Amy gazed at her in confusion.

"I knew him from high school. He made Jake's life a living hell and I had to deal with the tears." She complained. "Anyways, how did he die?" Gina sat down next to them.

"Don't know. He was just found on the doorstep of this random lady's house. Said she had never seen the guy before." Amy told her. 

"Whose doorstep?" Gina asked. Both Rosa and Amy were surprised that she was interested in a case. She was only ever slightly intrigued if she thought the perp was hot. 

"Scarlett McNally's." Gina's face dropped. The smile she had that was stretching from ear to ear turned into a straight line. Her eyes widened slightly.

"That's Jake's ex-girlfriend." She spoke quietly, but loud enough for Rosa and Amy to hear. The two detectives shared a glance. Was there a chance Jake was tied into this? Amy stood up to go find Jake, but before she could start looking for him, Terry approached her.

"Have you seen Jake?" 

Chapter Text

Apr 12th, 2014.

10:00 P.M.

Jake opened his lips, closing his eyes as his head pressed into the rough surface of the wall behind him. Sweat dripped down his cheeks as he panted, sliding down the wall. His arm felt heavy and limp as he tried wiping the sweat off his forehead, giving up and falling to the floor, crumpling to the ground. His body trembled as chills pierced through his skin, yet underneath his flesh, his body was burning and on fire.

There was a monster after him. There was. He swore.

Everything was blurry. Everything was coloured. The world was so shiny yet so dull and everything was warped and confusing and now he couldn't move yet he was being lifted. He looked down and snakes were wrapped around his wrists, his limbs growing wet and slimy. The monster was here. It had him.

"No please, please, please," He mumbled feverishly, his head shaking loosely back and forth as he tried fighting against the monster. Pain flashed through him even at the twitch of his fingers, making him part his lips and groan. The vines grew more around him, wrapping him into the monster's chest, the void swallowing him as he leaned against it, accepting the support. 

No, no. He couldn't. Something was wrong. Everything was wrong. You can't even walk, idiot. They're helping. It's helping. 

Nothing's wrong.

His fingers weakly reached for the creature's hand, digging his nails into the skin. "Don't- Don't, don't, don't," He whispered, nausea shaking his body as his head dipped lower to the ground. The grip of the stranger tightened and the poison of the tentacles sunk into his blood, strangling him and pushing him and shoving him and screaming at him and talking to him-

There. There. Amy. He could see her. Could he? Yes, there she was! Right there! Did she not see him? Why wasn't she going to save him? Was she there? He tried shouting out to her, tried motioning, anything to get her attention, yet he couldn't. She looked away, her rosy lips pushed into a smile, beautiful, long eyelashes fluttering. I won't do anything annoying, ever again. I'll be way less stubborn. I'll do things your way, please, just please. He tried begging, but his mouth wouldn't move. His jaw was frozen. It was like he was underwater, trapped with his wrists now being tied with zip-ties and being put in a - what, car?

"Amy," the words finally pushed through his lips. Suddenly, his neck pinched and tingled with a burning warmth which spread through his body. It sprouted from his heart and stomach, flowing through his blood and coursing through his flesh. His eyelids slowed closed and invisible fingers pulled them down, complete darkness inching closer and closer. But of course, just as he was about to rest (finally), Amy looked back, a haunted look on her face as she disappeared, just like his consciousness. 

May 4th, 2005.

3:16 P.M

"I'm s-sorry, oh my god," Jake bit his lip, unsure of what to do, as he blinked at the woman in front of him, his face flushed and his eyes puffy from crying. She was shaking her head, sobbing violently while pressing her hands over her mouth, fingers covering her eyes as she squeezed them shut.

Jake had been working on a murder case for a while, with little information and many leads with dead ends. He'd been chasing those trails for days, becoming increasingly stressed each time he had no breakthrough. But it turned out that he had to wait for it to come to him.

A woman named Olivia Clint had come into the precinct, arms crossed and fingers nervously scratching her arms. She'd told someone that she had information about the murder case Jake had been working on and the detective had told her to go to the fourth floor instead and talk to him. He'd started asking her about it and before he could even finish his first question, she burst into tears. She explained through sobs that her fiance had killed the guy. She said when she found out, he had told her not to tell anyone or he would kill her too. She'd waited so long because he had been abusive to her for a while and was still clinging to the relationship they had before. After spitting out everything she had started sobbing and apologizing, saying things about how she should have stopped him or done more.

"No, no, it's okay, sh-hh," He didn't know what to say or do, he had never been good at comforting people. She opened her eyes, still sobbing into her palms. He tried reaching out yet stopped himself, confused about what to do. "It's okay. You did nothing wrong. You did everything right. You told us. That's all that matters. And hey, it'll be better after this. He'll go to jail, and you'll be safe." The crying had gone down to more intense hiccups and sniffling as she used her trembling hands to wipe away a few tears.

"You swear?" She asked, voice shaking. He smiled at her, tilting his head in a friendly way. 

"I promise." He stood up, getting ready to leave to arrest him. He tried wrapping up the conversation, but she stood up, wrapping herself around him in a tight embrace. The hug stole a gasp from him, his body tense before he awkwardly leant into it, unsurely rubbing her back. She sniffled into his shoulder before pulling away, shoulders shaking with more hiccups as she wiped a tear.

"Sorry," She mumbled, wrapping her arms around herself.

"No, don't apologize. You didn't do anything wrong." He told her, voice gentle and reassuring. "And, I know there's someone who will love you and cherish you and treat you well. I'm sure of it." He smiled at her, stomach still toiling with an uncomfortable pain. He gave her a playful wink, trying to lighten the mood somehow. The both of them chuckled softly before she hugged him again.

April 12, 2014.

9:08 P.M.

Jake thanked the cab driver, passing the money to him and stepping out of the car. He heaved a deep breath, the spring air mixed with the gross streets of Brooklyn dancing in his nose. 

In front of him was Shaw's, the bar that the 99 had been going to for drinks for years. A bright red and green sign blinked at him on the brick wall of the building, lighting up the glistening street in front of it, slicked with rain which had only recently stopped falling.

Nevermind.

As soon as he noticed the wet sidewalk, rain spat down onto the street around him, splattering on his hair. He groaned and rushed toward the bar, craving the cover over his head.

He was going to decline the invite for drinks that evening, but as soon as he heard the shuffling around his apartment, he assured the squad that he would be there, yet hesitation pulled at his feet as he walked into the familiar place. Regret tugged at his stomach and sent uncomfortable pains through his body as the music in the bar and talking and literally every single noise flowed toward him, his brain absorbing it and immediately screaming at him to go home. He couldn't do this tonight. He couldn't. His heart was pumping wildly in his chest and his skin pulsed with heat and sweat dripped down his face and he could not be here. He had to go home, he had to, he had to. It was so much. He closed his eyes, breathing quickly and clutching at his chest, digging his fingernails into his shirt as he hyperventilated, panic rushing through him. Suddenly, everyone was looking at him, and everyone stared at him and though he couldn't see anything, he could feel it. And he was weak. And he should be here because he shouldn't be scared of some stalker who was too lazy to show their damn face.

"You good, man?" He snapped back to consciousness, heart pumping and rattling against his ribcage. He turned his head, a familiar face blinking at him with a brow furrowed in concern. Jake rubbed his chest, taking a deep breath as his hyperventilating stopped and he calmed down. 

"Yeah, yeah," He reassured Terry, lips quirking up in a smile that felt and definitely looked fake. He sat there for a second before realizing that they had arrived. He unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door, leaving the minivan and walking over to the sidewalk. He had only come because after he had declined the invite, Terry texted him and said that he should go and that he would drive him so he didn't have to pay for a cab. Too tired to reassure him that he would be fine and that there was no point in him going, he just went along with it.

"Are you sure you're good?" Terry asked again, tilting his head at Jake. Jake dismissed him with a flap of his hand and a nod of his head, speed-walking away and entering Shaw's. He instinctively braced for the loud sounds that his daydreaming predicted but was met with music that quietly lulled in the background of conversations which flowed only a little louder. He felt a small, actual, smile spread across his face. He had been too busy thinking about his stalker and how everyone on the squad probably knew by now (Didn't you have a solution to stop thinking about it?) to think about what bars were even for. Drinking! This was an opportunity to get wasted and then be too busy the next morning nursing a hangover to think about his fears. Perfect. He confidently took a seat at the bar, waving over Hank.

"Here to pay your tab?" The bartender asked him as he made his way to Jake, an unamused expression on his face. Jake simply responded with a hollow chuckle and an order for a beer to start. Hank rolled his eyes and went away to get it, sliding the glass bottle over the counter.

"One for me as well." Terry took a seat beside him, thanking Hank after he received his. Jake flashed Terry an annoyed look through the corner of his eye, taking a swig from the drink. Terry took a sip from his bottle as well, the two sitting in silence for a few moments.

"What do you want?" Jake eventually asked, resting his cheek on the heel of his hand.

"You to talk to me. Something's obviously wrong. You should know by now you've never had a good poker face." Jake met his sentence with silence, turning his head slightly. Terry sighed, a thump sounding as he placed his beer on the table. "Is this about the stalker thing? Because, if so, you're being even more childish than usual. You can't be mad about me telling Holt because I care about your safety." Terry's voice grew more stern by the end of his sentence. Jake sat up, looking at the superior officer. 

"First of all, you didn't even need to tell him! It's not that big of a deal. Second of all, I've been more childish than this. You don't even know how childish I can get. Third of all, I can take care of myself!" Jake shouted, sneering at Terry and crossing his arms promptly.

"Can you take care of yourself? Cause last time I checked, you are in so much debt that you can't even pay for a cab." Terry told him, glaring at the detective.

"Actually, crippling debt, so, you're wrong about another thing. You know what, I don't even know why I'm here. I have enough beer in my fridge to get wasted on." He didn't have a single type of alcohol in his fridge, and that was for two reasons. One, he didn't have enough money to get any regularly, and two, he had vowed to have no alcohol in his house when he was a kid because of his dad. 

"And how will you get home? Because you can't expect Terry to drive you! You know what? Do what you want, man. I'm tired of coddling you like a baby." Terry snapped, standing up and walking away. Jake stood, rolling his eyes and walking after him.

"Wait, Sarge. I'm sorry. I'm just-"

"Stop with your excuses. Talk to me again when you know why you're sorry." He finished, stomping away. Jake stood there, blinking after the sergeant. He scratched his arm nervously, scrunching his nose. He sighed and hung his head, squeezing his eyes shut. Why was he acting like this? Jake watched Terry walk towards the rest of the 99, sitting down with his beer in his hand. Jake turned, returning to his seat at the bar. He put his elbow on the table, pressing his fingers against his temple as he took a sip from his beer, his mind racing as he thought about everything and nothing. Yet, the one thing he hadn't thought about was the fact that he had left his beer in the open and unattended. The one thing he should have thought about.

May 14th, 2005.

9:04 P.M. 

"Eugh, what is this?" Jake spluttered while hacking, the liquid dripping down his chin and spotting his flannel shirt, the shot glass sitting sideways on the counter with liquid spilled around it. He dragged the back of his hand over his mouth while coughing, amused giggles next to him. 

"I thought you would like that one!" The woman beside him chuckled, an amused smile spread across her face while she laughed mischievously. 

"What? Ew- huh?" He stuttered, placing the shot glass over the right way as he turned to glare at her. "Did you ask them for the strongest shot?" He asked, forcing a frown on his face. She shook her head vigorously, yet her cheeks sparked with a bright red as she held in her laugh. Suddenly, the both of them burst out into loud laughter until his stomach hurt and tears formed in his eyes. 

The woman sitting next to him was Olivia, probably one of his best friends by now. After Jake had arrested their suspect, he contacted Olivia and told her. She thanked him and started crying again so he comforted her and soon started hanging out with her. Not long later the two had grown pretty close, often going out for drinks or watching movies after his shifts or on his days off. Even though they had only been friends for not long, he liked her. At this point, his friendship with her had become quite similar to his relationship with Gina, and he had never had a friend like her. 

"That was a good prank. I'm proud of you." He told her, bowing to her playfully. She giggled, lifting a hand and brushing her fingers over her lips. Her hazel eyes sparkled with joy.

"As they say, the pupil becomes the student." The statement sent Jake bursting into laughter again, and after a second of confused mumbling, Olivia tumbled down the same tunnel. Yet again, the laughter faded and Jake ordered actual shots for them, well, ones that wouldn't make either of them immediately spit it all out.

Only a few moments later, the shots arrived and they both took a couple, counting each other down. Olivia threw one down, Jake whooping as she wiped the residue off her lips. Olivia started another conversation, asking Jake about the case he had told her all about while ordering them two vodka cranberries, her favourite (that she would always make Jake have).

"Well, it's mixed. I was stumped for a while with figuring out leads and my partner, Brendanawicz, oh yeah, did I tell you about him?" She nodded, motioning with her hand for Jake to go on as she rested her chin on the heel of her palm. "Well, he was no help. Had a 'family emergency' or whatever. When I'm a parent, I'll always put work first, especially since I'm a kick-ass detective. So, since I couldn't figure anything out at work, I figured I would just take them home. I guess we're not allowed, but there's no rule. Plus, what's the harm? So, I brought it home, and Scarlett saw them and-"

"Wait, who's Scarlett?" Olivia interrupted, her mouth slightly open. Her eyebrows were furrowed in a mixture of - what was that? Anger? Disappointment? Confusion? Oh, yeah. Had to be confusion. Only that. Why would she be disappointed about him having a girlfriend? They were friends, strictly friends. If Jake was asked to name the person who was least attracted to him, it would be Olivia, by far.

"My girlfriend. Have I not told you about her before?" He asked, leaning forward as he played with the straw for his drink, taking a small sip as Olivia shook her head, a strange smile appearing on her face.

"Why didn't you say anything about her?" She asked, her voice hinting with notes of panic, her eyes a little wide as she looked straight at him, hands not touching the drink she would usually devour.

"I didn't figure it was important. I mean, it's nothing serious, I just thought you weren't interested in the people I'm dating." He said, crossing his arms.

"Well, we're friends, so, yeah, I am. I just, I guess, want you to, y'know, talk to me about this stuff." She looked down shyly, fidgeting with her hands in her lap as her mousy hair fell from behind her back and dangled by the sides of her face. 

"Of course, your Majesty! From now on, each woman I screw shall be reported back to you." He said in a high-pitched British accent, bowing to her. He expected her to giggle and tell him to stop or swat him on the shoulder, but instead, he was met with a mumble about how ignorant he was and her leaving then and there. He tried calling her and messaging her and saying he was sorry for the next few days and that it was a joke to get her to cheer up but he was ignored each time, and soon enough, he stopped.

August 19th, 2005.

5:07 P.M.

"Yo, Peralta." Jake lifted his head, looking up at Adrian Brendanawicz, one of the few detectives who had started actually talking to him. He considered them pretty good friends now knowing the fact that they had heard like, every detail in his life because of his blabbering mouth. Oh well. 

"Yooo, Brend-ana-wicz. Supppp'?" He said, earning a few stares from Adrian and everyone around him who heard.

"You told me about that girl, uhh, Olivia something?" Jake nodded, immediately becoming interested when he heard the name. "Yeah, I just heard that she got arrested."

"What? Really?" Jake blinked. Usually, he would just be like, eugh, whatever, but if it was good enough for Adrian to tell him, it meant she didn't get arrested over something stupid like tax fraud. "What for?"

"Attempted murder."

"Do you know who?"

"I think their name was like, Claire McNally or something. Can't remember." Jake blinked at him, recognizing the last name. He knew someone with a last name close to it, he was sure, but he ended up just shrugging it off and assuming it was from a case or something. He shrugged at Adrian and accepted the invitation to drinks. He lived his life on and continued it without thinking of his old friend. 

April 12th, 2014.

9:42 P.M.

Jake breathed in the warm, humid air that crowded around him, too close and too hot for him to get the air to his lungs. Bodies moved around him, limbs crashing into his torso and stabbing into his bones and cracking them all at once, reminding him of every single accident he had before and how he could have avoided them. Stupid. 

Nausea flooded his body and bubbled in his stomach, climbing up his throat and tickling his flesh. Hands grabbed at his neck and pulled it and he fought his grasp on his throat, willing to vomit to stay and not to leave and not to cause him problems for the rest of his life. Yet, who would listen to a seven-year-old? Yes, that was how old he was. Just seven. Only seven. He was a stupid fucking kid. Actually, he didn't quote that from himself. His dad said it all the time. That's why it was true. 

While coughing out all that rested inside his stomach, sweat dribbled down his forehead and onto the stone-cold tile floor of the bathroom? where he was hunched over, shaking like a leaf. How did he get here? Why was he here? What was happening? He didn't feel good. He didn't want to feel like this.

A voice broke through the coughing and spluttering. A string of words was formed that echoed through the room, the syllables and letters becoming jumbled together and suddenly he was unscrambling them, only hearing fragments of what was said as he tore himself away from the toilet bowl, pressing himself against the wall and panting, desperate to get any air in to survive. 

Fear ran through Jake's veins, his blood running even colder than it already was. Boots appeared under the door, the black leather showing black holes that would suck him up and eat him. The voice called out again, closer this time. It was a monster. He was sure of it. He could see its long, inhuman limbs reaching over the door, trying to grab for him. He covered his mouth, closing his eyes as he bit his cheek. It was going to kill him, wasn't it? He couldn't let that happen. Or was he already dead? He didn't want to die. Oh god, oh god. He could feel the fresh, hot tears flowing down his face as his stomach churned, vomit rising up his throat. Unable to hold it in, he hunched over the toilet bowl (he was pretty sure it was) again and he hacked up all that he could until he was dry heaving. 

"I'm coming in," The monster shrieked on the other side of the door. Jake forced himself to his feet, restoring his balance by placing his hand on the other side of the stall. He could escape. He could do this. He just had to run away when the monster came in. That was gonna be easy. 

Even though Jake had been expecting it, he still flinched and froze when the creature kicked in, the vibrant purple of the door which was now dancing rattled on its hinges, trembling back and forth from the force. He stared into the monster's cruel, hazel eyes which squinted with joy, an evil smile spread under its nasty nose. He stood there for a second, heart pumping wildly and staring at it and thinking have I met this monster already? Before dashing forward, the entire world spun as he returned to action, yet the need to get away overpowered the lousy headache. Yet, his plan didn't exactly work when her arms slammed against his chest, holding him back. In a flush of panic, he scrabbled around, fighting to get out of the slimy grip that wrapped around his entire body, the tentacles wrapping around his eyes and his body, making him drown. He needed to get out, he needed to get out-

Stars exploded around him as searing, white, hot pain blinded his vision, swamping his kaleidoscope-like surroundings. Something warm dripped down his forehead, running down his cheek. He lifted a trembling hand to it, red goo staining his jagged fingertip. It spread through his skin, poisoning it and spreading to his head where the goo from the monster bloomed, pain striking his head. The monster had gotten it's dumb-ass goo on him and now he was being poisoned. He needed to get away. No. He needed to. 

So he got up, stumbling to his feet and ran as fast as he could. Invisible tentacles reached out at him and colours changed from warm, autumn-like shades to harsh, summer shades that blinded his eyes and screamed at him 'Run! Run! Run!' So he did. He ran. Through crowds of ducks in the swamp he was drowning in, the monster was right on his tail, ready to drug him again. He slid along the walls and the monster followed, its goo spreading through the wallpaper, painting it red and fiery. But he couldn't run forever. He was in so much pain. And so tired. And he couldn't see the monster. He was safe.

So he rested along the wall, taking a break. Maybe he was going insane. Maybe there was no monster. Cause where was it now, huh? He wasn't insane. It was there.

Jake opened his lips, closing his eyes as his head pressed into the rough surface of the wall behind him. Sweat dripped down his cheeks as he panted, sliding down the wall. His arm felt heavy and limp as he tried wiping the sweat off his forehead, giving up and falling to the floor, crumpling to the ground. His body trembled as chills pierced through his skin, yet underneath his flesh, his body was burning and on fire.

There was a monster after him. There was. He swore.

Everything was blurry. Everything was coloured. The world was so shiny yet so dull and everything was warped and confusing and now he couldn't move yet he was being lifted. He looked down and snakes were wrapped around his wrists, his limbs growing wet and slimy. The monster was here. It had him. 

"No please, please, please," He mumbled feverishly, his head shaking loosely back and forth as he tried fighting against the monster. Pain flashed through him even at the twitch of his fingers, making him part his lips and groan. The vines grew more around him, wrapping him into the monster's chest, the void swallowing him as he leaned against it, accepting the support. 

No, no. He couldn't. Something was wrong. Everything was wrong. You can't even walk, idiot. They're helping. It's helping. 

Nothing's wrong.

His fingers weakly reached for the creature's hand, digging his nails into the skin. "Don't- Don't, don't, don't," He whispered, nausea shaking his body as his head dipped lower to the ground. The grip of the stranger tightened and the poison of the tentacles sunk into his blood, strangling him and pushing him and shoving him and screaming at him and talking to him-

There. There. Amy. He could see her. Could he? Yes, there she was! Right there! Did she not see him? Why wasn't she going to save him? Was she there? He tried shouting out to her, tried motioning, anything to get her attention, yet he couldn't. She looked away, her rosy lips pushed into a smile, beautiful, long eyelashes fluttering. I won't do anything annoying, ever again. I'll be way less stubborn. I'll do things your way, please, just please. He tried begging, but his mouth wouldn't move. His jaw was frozen. It was like he was underwater, trapped with his wrists now being tied with zip-ties and being put in a - what, car?

"Amy," the words finally pushed through his lips. Suddenly, his neck pinched and tingled with a burning warmth which spread through his body. It sprouted from his heart and stomach, flowing through his blood and coursing through his flesh. His eyelids slowed closed and invisible fingers pulled them down, complete darkness inching closer and closer. But of course, just as he was about to rest (finally), Amy looked back, a haunted look on her face as she disappeared, just like his consciousness. 

Chapter Text

Jake's eyes dragged as he blinked them open, invisible fingers trying to pull them back down. Stars danced across the blinding white ceiling, making him squeeze his eyelids shut, trying to go back to sleep, yet a familiar voice interrupted him.

"Peralta." He snapped his eyes back open, multiple thoughts fighting through molasses to be realized, his brain a haze of confusion. Everything spun as he moved his head, trying to move his arms which were pinned against something behind his back. He was too tired to inspect that, although. He only had the energy to stare at the police captain in front of him and fight to not fall over.

"Peralta," Holt repeated, making Jake realize he had been tipping to the left, the exhaustion winning. He blinked at the figure in front of him realizing something was wrong with him. Something was different here. Something wasn't right.

"O captain, my captain." Jake addressed him, a slur in his voice. The captain's face remained stoic and unbothered, his chocolatey brown eyes staring at Jake. He didn't say anything, so Jake did. "Why are you in my house?" Jake's head tipped forward slightly, eyelashes brushing his skin as he blinked again for much too long. 

"This isn't your house. Look around." He commanded the detective. Jake slowly dragged his eyes across the room, slowly realizing this wasn't his house. He was sitting on a cold, concrete floor and his arms were pinned behind him on a pole. A single lightbulb hung from the snow-coloured ceiling, making Jake immediately look away when the light slipped into his vision, much too bright for him. The room was small and incredibly bleak, with no bright colours popping out in the room. 

"Huh," The mumble slipped from Jake's lips as he looked back to the captain whose arms were crossed across his chest. "Why are you just standing there and not helping me?" He asked, tilting his head sluggishly. A flicker of amusement passed over Holt's face as he adjusted the way he was standing, arms now by his side.

"I'm not real," he responded, his eyebrow raised in the slightest. Confusion flooded through Jake, making his mouth part. Just when he was about to say something, the captain's figure wavered, making Jake's eyes go even wider. Holt glanced down at himself, his lips curling into a frown. "My apologies, Detective. I should return once you're alone again." 

"What? I am alone?" He asked, pulling against the restraints as the hallucination disappeared. His body froze when footsteps echoed in the hallway outside the door, slowly coming closer. He pressed himself against the pole, trying to calm his breathing and have his heart stop racing. Why was his heart even beating so fast? 

.because you're on drugs, dumbass

"Oh, you're awake," the door slowly creaked open, revealing a face he recognized but couldn't quite put his finger on. He squinted his eyes, trying to figure out where he had seen her before yet nausea beat him to the chase. He took in a deep breath, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. Feet scuffled against the floor, coming closer to him. He opened his eyes and looked straight ahead, being stared right in the eye. She suddenly blinked and pulled back, blushing and looking away as if she were flustered.

"It's so weird finally being face-to-face with you," she breathed, letting out an amused huff. "It feels so unreal." She lightly grabbed his chin. Jake froze, not sure what to do when she touched him and stared into her eyes as she leaned in and kissed him, forcing his mouth open as she pressed him against the wall. Her hands migrated to his shoulders to pin him down when he finally started to struggle, trying to pull away or get a word in. After a few seconds, she finally came off him, smiling and looking deeply into his eyes, a hand cupping his cheek. She drew in a shuddering breath, an ever wider smile growing on her face before she moved away, picking up a bottle and syringe. She stuck the needle in the bottle, filling it up before undoing one of his hands from the restraints, tying a band around his arms and going to speak again, seeing the wince on his face and the tensing in his muscles.

"If you cooperate, I won't have to use the drugs," she said, pressing the needle into his skin. He held his breath and closed his eyes. "They're just to make sure you don't escape or fight against me. You'll understand soon," she said, putting the needle back on the ground and staring into his eyes again, leaning closer in. She was about to kiss him again when he spoke up, unable to keep his thoughts in any longer.

"Who are you?" He barely even said, the words coming out as a whisper. Her mouth fell open and her eyes bulged a little wider when she heard him, but her shock was quickly covered in a smug look as she cupped his face again.

"That's just the drugs," she told him, yet her words sounded more like she was reassuring herself. "I gave you a pretty big dose, huh? Wanted to knock you out." She gave him a small peck on the lips before standing up, taking the bottle and syringe with her as she retreated to the door. Jake sunk into his position, heart beating quickly and vision blurring. She was saying something that he couldn't make out, closing the door and locking up with a rattle of keys. He felt his chest heaving and sweat pulling on his flesh, panic shaking him as the drugs became stronger, slowly lulling him into unconsciousness. 

"Checked the bathrooms, he's not in there," Charles ran up to her, panting. His lips were curled in a frown and eyebrows tilted in worry. Amy nodded to him and turned away, fumbling with her keys in her jacket pocket. She could hear Holt and Terry talking and Charles reporting back to Terry, and while she should have been listening in case they said something important, she wasn't. She was stuck in her little world with spinning hurricanes and pounding loud rain, snakes that grabbed her with their tails and dragged her down into their dark and crumbling tunnels of anxiety. She took a deep breath, shaking out her hands and trying to clear her worry.

When Terry told the rest of the squad why they were extra concerned about Jake's whereabouts, Amy was shocked. And rightfully so. Terry had told her that he was being stalked and threatened multiple times. After Amy had her moment of panic and shock, they called him and Gina did Find My Friends, leading them to find his phone in the corner of an alley, the screen more smashed than before (surprisingly). When they realized that he had been taken, Amy made the connection that Jake's kidnapper was likely the person who killed Perkenstein. Everybody scattered and searched for him, in case he wasn't taken, and she followed them around like a lost puppy, scared and feeling useless. 

Jake and Amy's relationship had been a little awkward lately. It was still weird between them because of his confession to liking her when he came back from being undercover. She'd been confused about her feelings and spent most nights staring at the ceiling, inching away from Teddy snoring next to her every minute, wondering if she was forcing herself into this relationship with him. They'd become distant lately, spending less time together and standing in awkward silence each time they tried hanging out, leading the two to simply just stop talking as much. 

She didn't know why she was so worried about Jake. She was fidgety and uncomfortable everywhere she walked, becoming more stressed each second because he was the only thing on her mind. Sure, it would be weird if she wasn't worried about him, but she was so anxious and nervous about it that she was confused. It had come to her multiple times in the last while that she probably liked him but she always pushed away the thought and reminded herself of Teddy and how she and Jake would never work out. And they wouldn't. She needed to stop thinking about her feelings and more about where Jake was. 

Amy ran up to the bartender, leaning against the counter with her hands spread over it. "Hey, Hank, was Jake acting weird earlier or anything? Did you notice something?" Hank looked up from behind the bar, a puzzled look planted on his face and a glass in his hand, his other rubbing a cloth against it.

"Uh, well, I dunno, I guess when he got up from his seat he looked, well, really confused and kinda disoriented. I just thought he'd ordered other stuff since I'd just started my shift," He paused, looking up and placing the glass down, rubbing his hand over his chin. "The only other thing was some lady asking me if I saw where he went. I'd never seen her before and just figured they were dating or something." 

"What did you tell her?" Amy asked, pushing off of the counter and crossing her arms, fidgeting with her hands.

"I told her that he had walked away somewhere and that I didn't see where." He shrugged, picking up the glass again before giving her a confused look. "Why do you ask? Did something happen?" Amy had already started walking away, so instead of replying, she just thanked him and pushed through a group of people and opened the door outside, breathing in the chilly air that had a strong smell of rain in the breeze. She headed over to Terry and Charles who were standing on the edge of the sidewalk, seemingly in a deep conversation. 

"Hey, I think I found out something useful. I asked Hank if he'd seen Jake and he told me that he'd gotten up and seemed inebriated and afterward a woman asked if he'd seen where he went. I think he might have been drugged." Terry and Charles' faces lightened slightly with the information.

"Alright. We should get a statement from him and a description of her and see if it matches Clint. We can also check how many drinks he got. He might have been drugged. This is good," Terry said, a relieved smile crossing his face yet worry still shining in his eyes. Charles was still crying, though, his eyes red and constantly sniffling.

"We're going to get whoever took him, and we're gonna make sure they're dead," He said, his voice weak from crying. Terry and Amy shared a worried look and Terry mumbled something to him, patting his arm. 

"There you guys are. We found something." Rosa ran up to them, hands on her hips. She gestured with her head for them to follow her. She led them down an alley next to Shaw's. All the way down the nook was a door and at the end of the alley was a small syringe, dropped and abandoned. Next to it was a splatter of blood, a small trail leading back the way they came until it stopped. Amy's eyes widened and she glanced up at Gina who was standing there already, a frown on her face and her phone put down for once.

"We need to see if this is his blood, and see what was in the syringe." Rosa broke the silence.

"Where's Holt?" Terry asked, arms crossed now.

"He went back down to the precinct to make a report and get forensics and statements from people. He told us to get more info before coming back down. We need to make statements as well," she heaved a sigh, looking up and huffing. Amy shared what she found out, and Terry and Charles gave a few bits of information as well. After they all said their part, they headed back to Terry's van (they'd taken cabs there since they expected to get drunk). The ride was filled with silence and thick tension, all of them staring at their laps and fidgeting anxiously. Amy didn't know what was going to happen (even though she'd gone through every scenario in her head) but whatever it was, she knew she would not like it at all. 

Chapter Text

The afternoon sun leaked through the precinct's windows, creeping through the glass and pouring over the floor. An unusual quiet settled over the office, the tension so thick it could be cut with a knife. 

Each one of the detectives worked tirelessly, investigating through paperwork, trying to find anything they could. Amy’s hair was tangled into long messy braids, her fingers combing through them and tugging at the ends, nails digging into the weaved hair and pulling them free, immediately braiding them back. Her eyes looked hollow, focused on nothing else but the witness statement she was looking over, again and again. Anybody walking by her would smell the strong stench of smoke on her. Nobody judged, however. They all had their methods of coping with tough situations. 

Charles's hair was already starting to turn white, small strands slowly turning into snow, his scalp looking like salt and pepper. Terry was convinced that if you were to stare at him for long enough, you could see the white making its way up like a snake slithering. 

Speaking of Terry, he seemed to be the one taking it best, as usual. But that didn’t mean that he wasn’t taking it well. His stomach had started to hurt from anxiety as he counted the hours since Jake had been gone, blaming himself for leaving the man at the bar. He tried his best not to show his worry, masking it by staying focused and offering words of encouragement to his coworkers, but they all knew it had gotten to him too by the number of yogurt cups that were stacked on his desk. He always ate extra when he got nervous. 

Gina was sitting at her desk, staring at her computer with dull eyes. For the first time in forever, she was actually doing her work, filling out the files she hadn’t done, some reaching back months. Everyone was shocked by her strange behaviour, missing her usual quips at Amy or Charles, not making fun of them for once. This was one of the first times in her life when she had ever felt sympathy. She pitied the detectives, watching them all work to figure out where Jake was, the one person she actually liked in this precinct. Sure, Holt and Rosa were okay, but she had known Jake for so long, and he had always been there for her in her rare times of weakness. And right now, she hated that she couldn’t do anything but fill out old paperwork she had never bothered to do.

Holt was going over more files in his office, door closed and locked. He kept the blinds open, though, observing his detectives. He tapped his pen subconsciously, nervously fidgeting as he tried to piece things together. He hated himself right now. Why couldn't he focus? He was acting like a damn child. He pulled his hands over his face, trying to collect himself as he got back to his work. 

Rosa was slaving away over her monitor, scrolling through footage, trying to find anything she could. She had snapped at multiple people today, mostly Hitchcock and Scully, but also other officers who had asked her about something when she had gotten up. In her defence, they were all stupid questions. She was about to get up again to get another cup of coffee, but Amy interrupted her, making her freeze.

“Wait. I think I found something.” Amy announced. Rosa made a bee-line for her desk while the other officers straightened, listening to her. “Look at this witness report.” Amy slid a sheet over to Rosa.

A woman named Rachel Hans had filed a report. She had been on a jog when she had seen a woman helping a man who seemed incredibly drunk into a car. She had to do a double-take at the situation, saying that he seemed reluctant to her. She couldn’t hear them, but she noticed that the woman seemed to be acting odd. Rachel had turned away and tried to think nothing of it, yet she couldn’t stop thinking that something had happened. She had described the car to be a blue sedan, yet she couldn’t see the plate. The only reason she knew the specific car was because her dad had the same car, just a different colour. 

“I only found this because I was looking through other reports filed recently. Have you seen anything with the same car?” Amy asked her. She could tell the woman was starting to get excited, a smile playing on her face. Rosa immediately went back to her desk, searching through camera footage until she found a video of that car driving in the background. You were just able to see it pull up to an old abandoned warehouse. 

“I think I know where he is.”

Jake's body felt weak. He could feel his exhausted muscles pulling him down, his face weak, unable to keep his eyes from drooping. The bounds that held him to the pipe rubbed against the metal as he struggled, trying to get free. He could feel the drugs she had injected in him wearing away, taking his chance to try and escape, despite how frail he felt. He felt a hand clutch on his arm, and suddenly his captor’s face was staring into his. 

“Please don’t try to leave, love.” she stroked his arm, making goosebumps grow along his skin as he tried recoiling from the touch, her grip growing on his arm as she pulled him closer, placing a wet kiss on his cheek. He whined, making her giggle. 

“You know, Jakey, it hurts seeing how much you want to be away from me.” she tainted her voice with sadness, her lip pouting as she brought one of her hands to his chin, slender fingers brushing against his light stubble that had started growing back. “We could be a good couple if you let me care for you. That’s all I’ve wanted to do this whole time.” 

“Let me go,” he asked her, just teetering on the edge of begging. His voice was feeble as he looked down, avoiding eye contact with her. He heard her heave a large sigh and adjust her position, hand stroking his thigh. He tried to curl into himself, not letting her touch him, but she pushed his leg against the ground roughly, her voice coming closer to his ear, barely a whisper. It was so gentle that Jake almost didn't notice the threat in it.

“Don’t even fucking try. You’re mine now,” she told him, hand going down to his shoulder. She suddenly seized it, shoving him roughly and letting out a cackle when he gasped. She stood back up and carded her skinny fingers through his hair. “Now, what do you want to do?” she asked him, a sickening smile on her face as she sat across from him, legs crossed. He glared at her before looking away, refusing to keep eye contact. She snorted and got up, letting out a loud huff. He looked back at her, but now she was turned away from him. 

“Fine, be like that,” she said, a nasty snark in her voice yet still a hint of amusement. She spun around, winking at him before placing a hand on the doorknob. “I’ll be right back, I just have to grab something.” the mischief in her voice stood out, making fear run through Jake’s body. He didn’t move, didn’t even breathe before she left the room, and once she did, he immediately got to work trying to free himself from the handcuffs that bound him to the pipe. He struggled against them, trying to tug them free, somehow thinking that would work. He pulled his arms forward desperately, the chain, clinking loudly against the pipe. 

Suddenly, the door creaked open. Olivia peeked around the edge of the door, her face a mix of sadness and excitement. He fell back, moving back to his original position while quietly closing the door, hands tucked behind his back. 

“You know, Jakey, in another universe we would have worked out.” she sighed sadly, staring off at the wall with a faraway look. She placed the items she had behind her back down on the floor, standing next to them and staring at him with arms crossed. “Your friends are coming to save you soon. God, I did such a shitty job of covering up my tracks.” she glanced away, then stared at him through the corner of her eye expectantly. He didn’t say anything, instead focused on what she had put down on the ground. “God! You don’t even bother to comfort me! Not even an ‘It’s okay’. Men.” she huffed.

On the ground was a syringe, accompanied by two vials of whatever drug she was going to use on him. But the other thing he was mostly focused on was the pistol sitting right next to it, looking so harmless yet Jake knew that it wouldn’t end up being that way. 

She sat down, bringing the syringe and vials toward him. She adjusted his handcuffs so it was just one arm bounded and took his left, tying a band around it and filling the needle with the drug, balancing the tip of the syringe on the inside of his arm. “Stop, stop. Hey, please, I can cooperate.” he pleaded with her, trying to shy away from the needle. But she jerked his arm back, steadying it. 

“That’s not what this is about, baby,” she told him, looking into his eyes. “You’re going to be taken from me if I don’t do this. This is the only way we can be together. The only way that you can be only mine.” His heart dropped. His eyes widened as he felt the syringe prick his skin. He tried struggling against it, pulling away, but he could practically feel the liquid entering his veins, the invisible hands clutching onto his blood and flesh and already beginning to work. She was killing him. He was going to die. Oh god. 

She pulled the needle away, taking his band off and not even bothering to cover up the small spot with a bandaid. She now went for the gun, staring deep into his eyes. She held it up to her temple, smiling at him with a wretched, horrible, twisted grin. “I’ll see you soon, my love.” 

Bang.

Holt stared out the window of the van, shuffling uncomfortably in the bullet-proof vest tightened over his body. The car bumped along the road, the police sirens muffled from inside. 

Once they had gotten to the location where he was being held, the squad rushed there immediately, calling in backup as well. They were to go inside the storage unit and search it, with members of the S.W.A.T. team accompanying them while the others stayed outside, guarding the possible exits.

They had taken separate vehicles, as they were going through different entrances. Charles and Rosa were going through the back entrance, Gina in the van helping monitor comms. Terry, Holt, and Amy were going through the front. Holt looked down at his feet, swallowing hard as his heart pumped wildly in his chest, unusual nerves coursing through him. Terry took his eyes off the road for a split second to glance at Holt, his anxiety catching the sergeant’s attention.  A reassuring smile spread through the man’s face, yet Holt could see the concern behind his comforting gaze. 

“He’ll be okay, Captain. He’s too stubborn to give up.” Holt could tell the man was struggling to keep up his usual optimistic stance. And while that was clear as day, he appreciated his coworker’s efforts. And while Terry turned back to his focus on the road, Holt shifted his gaze over to Amy. Her leg bounced violently and her face looked miserable with worry, anxiety shadowing every corner. 

“We’ll get him, Santiago,” Holt said, keeping his voice steady no matter how balanced he really felt. She looked up in surprise, realizing she had been doing a poor job of holding back her emotions. But instead of criticizing herself for it and focusing on that, she nodded. 

It took a few more minutes before the van pulled up to the scene. Well, not exactly. They had been told to park a little farther away to avoid being seen by his captor. The three officers got out of the car, carrying their equipment. Holt announced their arrival on the radio and soon arrived at the scene shortly. 

The storage unit was old and rusted, obviously abandoned. Moss bloomed over the exterior walls of the large building as if to emphasize the age. Windows were evenly spaced out here and there, the glass dusty and impossible to see through. Outside the entrance waited three SWAT officers, all standing there stiffly, watching the detectives approach. Once they had walked in range, the officers introduced themselves, nothing but seriousness tainting their voices. 

Soon enough, they were stalking through the corridors, weapons drawn as they peeked around the walls, footsteps quiet. The warehouse was huge on the inside, with hallways stretching on for miles, making the building eerie and filling the air with a new tension. 

Holt’s fingers wrapped tightly around his gun as he gripped onto the weapon as if it were his only source of life, palms sweaty. He followed behind Santiago, checking out the corridor parallel to the one she was inspecting. His nerves were beginning to (somehow) grow higher, frustration pumping through him as every corner they searched ended up empty. After a while of searching mindlessly, following his coworkers, he fell still, not following them. One of the SWAT officers turned to him, anger in his hushed voice.

“What are you doing? C’mon!” he whispered.

“This is useless. We need to split up.” Holt told him. He rolled his eyes at the captain, one hand being placed on his hip as he stared at him in annoyance. “We’re wasting time going all together. We’d cover more ground if we go different ways,” Holt pointed out.

“We’re wasting time listening to you try to reason. Just come on,” the officer said, turning back around. He beckoned the older man with his hand and turned again when he didn’t follow. The man opened his mouth to speak, but Terry interrupted him.

“Look, Holt, you know I would do what you say within a heartbeat, but this is dangerous. It’s hard to navigate this place, especially with all the signs rubbed off,” he gestured to the worn-away directions once written on the walls. 

“I am the superior officer here, Jeffords. I’m heading in the opposite direction. Do what you choose.” Amy was about to take a turn to speak before Holt raised a hand, immediately silencing the detective. He fixed the SWAT officer with a glare, before turning on them and heading back the way they had come.

He followed the path they had taken, ignoring the other ways where he could turn, paths they hadn’t taken. He kept going the same way until he came to another hallway, this one instead catching his eye. He peered down it, looking around before making his way along the wall. He turned random corners, not giving a thought to the other ways. He usually said trusting your gut was for people who wanted intense bowel movements, but right now, he had nothing else to go off of. And for some reason, something was leading him down this way. 

Soon enough, he was led to a door. A thin stream of light was cast under it, shining against his shoes as he tried the door, the knob under his palm barely wiggling. He heaved a deep breath, looking around helplessly before he grabbed the knob again, jiggling it violently before the door swung open, revealing a horrifying scene.

On the ground laid the twisted body of a woman, a faint smile on her face and eyes rolled back in her head. A red hole was ripped through her temples, blood oozing out of it and pooling on the ground. Crimson was splattered across the walls, globs of blood scattered across the room. In her own hand sat a gun, sitting there, perfectly still as if harmless. He dragged his eyes away from her body to where a man sat, looking frail as he was slumped on the wall like a doll. Just from the back of his head, he could tell it was Jake.

Holt shook himself out of the shocked trance, rushing forward to the detective. He grabbed for his radio immediately, spitting out commands into the box, providing the best description of the location he could. He took his hand off the communicator and moved it to check for a pulse, a weight lifting off of his body when he noticed a dull throb. Through the corner of his eye, he noticed an abandoned syringe with two vials of some sort of drug fallen over, one empty and the other sealed. 

“Peralta. Peralta, wake up.” Holt shook him, hearing the rattle of handcuffs against the pipe he was tied to. He ignored it at the moment, knowing he didn’t have anything to break them. Instead, he shook the man again. 

“Jacob.” Holt hated how much emotion was dripping through his voice as he pleaded with the unconscious man. He gave him another shake, feeling his heart break in two when the man didn’t move. “ Jake ,” he mumbled, his voice cracking. 

Suddenly, the man’s eyes fluttered open, revealing dull brown orbs that barely had another sign of life. But he was alive. “Help’s coming,” he tried to say something, not sure what to do. Jake dragged his eyes from the ground to Holt’s face.

“You real?” the man asked in a small voice, the sounds slurring together. He slowly turned his head to face Holt.

“I’m real.” he nodded, hands unconsciously rubbing his detective’s back. A smile crept over Peralta’s face as he blinked sluggishly, looking at the captain again.

“Cool,” was all he said before his eyes closed. Holt gave him a shake, fear rushing through his body. 

“Jake, you need to keep your eyes open,” Holt commanded, patting him on the back and trying to get him to say something or move.

“M’tired though…” he said quietly, head lolling to the other side. Holt had to grab his chin and stop him from crashing into the wall. 

“Captain..?” a hesitant voice sounded from behind him. He turned, seeing Rosa standing in the doorway looking baffled. She was staring at the body on the ground, eyes wide with shock. 

“Diaz.” Holt addressed her, the sternness in his voice coming back, secretly relieved to have someone else with him. “I need you to get them to hurry up with paramedics. He needs help.” He told her. She immediately went to her radio, barking at the other people on the line, giving a proper location. Holt’s eyes didn’t shift from Jake once, making sure he didn’t close his eyes. The man was mumbling about something with a monster and gross alcohol. 

“Cap’n?” Jake suddenly asked, squinting at the man sitting with him. Usually, Holt would scold him at the name, but something in him warmed at the nickname. 

"Yes, Peralta?” 

“M’gonna take, a, mm, nap, m’kay? Wake me up in hour.” He closed his eyes again, earning himself another jolt from the captain.

“Jake. No. No sleeping, remember?” Holt told him. Jake whined, mumbling something that Holt couldn’t make sense of, but his eyes fell shut again. Holt tried jostling him but the man didn’t awaken, his body limp in Holt’s grasp.

“Jake,” Holt said his name loudly, loud footsteps sounding through the hallway, bodies rushing toward him. EMTs spoke words and arms pulled him back, but it all sounded like was underwater, their commands muffled. He reached out for his son who was now being freed from the handcuffs. He was laid flat and his shirt was torn open, paddles pressing on his bare chest. All he heard were the words ‘We got a pulse!’ before everything else melted in a blur.

Chapter Text

Jake was swimming. Why he was swimming, he wasn’t sure. He was floating in an endless void of darkness; however, the darkness pressed against his body, spreading over his peachy skin and clinging to his hair. He frowned, glancing down at himself. He kicked his legs, propelling himself forward, spreading his arms through the sludge, feeling the thick liquid wrap around his limbs, trying to stop him from continuing. He let out a squeal of protest, the sound making bubbles float upwards, the noise muffled. He jerked his limbs, trying to free himself of the grasp of the gloop, but remained helpless. 

His hands were now clawing through darkness, fingernails ripping through waves of black, the ink spreading across his skin, sinking its teeth into his flesh and spreading through his veins. Pure terror filled him as he flailed his arms, desperate to escape. 

He coughed and spluttered as the goo entered his mouth, spilling over his teeth and sliding under his tongue like a slug. It crawled into his ears, scrambled up his nose, filling every hole in him. He clawed now at his body, no longer swimming but scrabbling at his chest, tearing at the liquid as it filled him whole. Desperation gnawed at his body as he tried opening his mouth to let out a scream, but no sound came out; his cry muffled. His lips quivered, his eyes squinted, but the sludge swallowed his tears up as well, taking everything it could from him, sapping away every last essence of being. 

He felt his limbs weaken, and his eyes drooped. His muscles slowly relaxed, and his nerves straightened. A sense of panic came over him as his body sat still, his attempts at movement failing. The sludge continued its path through his body, wrapping his slender fingers around his ribcage and pressing its suckers to his organs.

Through the darkness that covered his face came a strange vision. He imagined brown, doe-like eyes, squinted with a smile that stretched across skin the colour of a perfect latte. He felt his own face move slightly, his mouth barely moving to crack the smallest smile known to man.

Suddenly, a small thump sounded, echoing across the sea of darkness. He felt his ears prick, felt the goo stop oozing in his insides, everything still. Then, it came again, the small quiet sound carrying hope as more thump thump thumps followed, becoming louder and louder, taking over the ocean. The goo retreated, slithering out from his face, soundlessly fleeing. He twitched his fingers, grabbing at his chest as he heaved in breaths, panting. 

Then, everything faded.

Amy stirred, heavy eyes blinking open. She immediately felt the aches of pain in her neck as she straightened her head, yawning as the quiet beeps of the heart monitor echoed throughout the room.

She was sitting in the chair right next to the hospital bed, looking over at Jake. He was lying on his back, the teal blue covers draped over his body, the blue and white pattern of his hospital gown peeking through. 

His head was laid back on a flat pillow, his usually tidy hair unkempt, strands sprawled across the fabric. A layer of gauze covered his forehead, causing the brown locks to stick up strangely. His face was ashen, a huge contrast from his usually tan colour. Soft eyelashes rested over dark spots of exhaustion, eyebags a deep purple. An oxygen cannula rested below his nose, providing him with a steady stream of air. His lips were tinted with a slight frosty blue, the colour blooming from the corners of his mouth. 

One of his arms was laid over the top of the blanket, sleeve rolled up to make room for where his IV drip sat. His wrists were wrapped in stark white bandages, covering up the spots where the skin had been rubbed raw from his handcuffs. She noticed the small marks of bruising where the bandages didn’t reach. 

His other arm was mostly under the blanket, but his hand crept slightly out. Her fingers were intertwined with his, her clammy palms pressed against his cold ones. She brought her other hand to hold it, as if she were scared she would lose his grip. Her lip quivered slightly as she chewed her cheek, suppressing the tears that threatened to overflow. Stealing a shaky breath from the air, she turned her head as the door opened, pulling both of her hands away from Jake as quickly as she could. 

“Still here?” Rosa asked, one eyebrow raised. In both hands, she held cups of coffee, fingers wrapped around the sleeves. She jerked her head, her black curls falling behind her shoulder, the coils more frizzy and unkempt than usual.

Amy hummed a reply, taking the cup from Rosa’s hand, mumbling a thanks. Rosa took the seat next to Amy, crossing her legs and looking towards Jake.

“When did his doctor say he would wake up?” Rosa inquired, taking a sip of coffee.

“In a few hours or so.” Amy sniffled, scratching lightly at the corner of her eyes, rubbing away the spot of tears that came off with her thumb. “But there’s a chance it could be soon. I don’t know,” She huffed a fake laugh, shuffling in her chair and crossing her arms, swallowing a mouthful of bitter coffee that burned her tongue in the best way, bringing a thrill of energy into her veins. “Is everyone else still here?”

“Terry brought Charles home because he couldn’t stop crying,” Rosa said with a huff of laughter, a bittersweet smile crossing her face. She tilted her head slightly, looking at Amy with glassy eyes. “One of the nurses had to suggest it; he was crying so loud. ” They both gave hollow breaths of laughter, mouths raising in smiles which seemed to have no meaning.

“Holt left right after you took over for him to sit by Jake.” Rosa continued, looking back at the still body. “Gina’s still here, though. Terry told me he’ll try to stop by soon.” 

Amy nodded, taking another sip of her coffee, swinging her foot gently. A moment of silence settled over the detectives, both of their eyes fixed on the seemingly lifeless figure of their dear friend. Worry and somberness filled the room with tension; their sad, pathetic conditions did not help whatsoever. 

“You’ve been here way too long,” Rosa spoke up, not even turning her gaze to Amy.

“What do you mean?” Amy asked, looking at Rosa, a pang of hurt wriggling its way into her chest.

“You’ve been here since he was admitted. Go home, Amy.” Rosa looked at her this time, her eyes a mix of exasperation and empathy.

“I can’t leave while he’s like this, Rosa, I–” 

“You’re not the only one here for him.” Rosa interrupted Amy quickly, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. “He has the whole squad, Amy. I’ll be here while you’re gone. I’ll call you if he wakes up. We all care, not just you.” Rosa told her. Despite the harshness of her tone, both of them knew that she was in no way scolding Amy or yelling at her. She truly understood why her friend struggled to go home and leave Jake’s side. But spewing empathy and babying her wouldn’t have helped in this situation. So Amy stood up, offered Rosa a thankful smile, stretched her neck and said goodbye, reminding the detective to call her if anything changed. 

When Rosa finally called to inform her that Jake had awoken, it had been around two hours since she had left. And in those two hours, she could barely handle herself.

She had flit around the apartment like a fly, dusting this, tidying that, wiping down the counters -oh, look! This sweater isn’t folded perfectly- mopping already spotless floors, and watching the minutes tick by, looking at the clock on her oven, to her and Rosa’s texts, sitting and stalking like a cat getting ready to pounce. 

And when her phone finally rang, she was submerged in her closet, sorting her blazers by how much she wore them. The shrill ringing echoed through the house, making her body immediately straighten, head bouncing off the door. She gave herself only a split second to rub the bump before scrambling to her phone, grasping at the device, hitting accept before even sparing a moment to check the caller ID.

“Santiago?” Amy puffed into the phone, chest heaving.

“He’s up.” Rosa’s voice came through the other line. Her voice showed a rare tone of joy and hope; something that was so incredibly rare for Rosa Diaz. And as soon as Amy heard the message, she rushed to her door, pulling her shoes on, pressing the phone to her shoulder with her ear, pain aching on that side of her head. 

“He might be pretty confused, though. So, maybe don’t act super freaked or excited when you see him.” Rosa advised her. This made Amy stop in her tracks. She was already out of her apartment and halfway down the hallway, keys clenched in one hand and the other still pulling her shoe on. She stopped her hobbling, chewing her mouth in thought, when a flood of embarrassment came over her. 

“No, no, I won’t.” She reassured Rosa, bringing her one hand back to hold the phone, her hopping turning into a power walk. “I’ll be so chill. You know what? I’ll be so chill that you won’t even recognize me. I’ll be cooler than ice. Just as chill as-” 

“I’m stopping you before you say anything worse. Just be normal, okay?” Rosa sighed.

“Got it. Normal. Just beeeee normal.” Amy nodded, hearing the click of the phone. She dropped her arm, pocketing the device and holding her arm out in a fist.

“Normal. I can do normal. I’m the most normal person ever, just so normal…” Amy faked a smile, rubbing it off her face with her hand as quickly as it came. “Stop being so weird!” she hissed out to herself, continuing her walk down the hallway. 

Amy pushed the door open, wearing a smile over her tired face. She hoped that he wouldn’t notice the tension in her shoulders or the way her eyes bulged slightly. 

Jake was sat upright on the bed, brown hair still messily spread over the white bandage which wrapped around his head. But instead of closed, lifeless eyes, his were open and shining with joy, a dopey smile spread under his nose. However, there still seemed to be a haze in his brown orbs; a foggy blur which made him look hollow. 

A tray was set over his lap, and on it was a half-empty pudding cup. He held the spoon in one hand, his mouth fully absorbing the plastic, chocolate brown glistening on his chapped lips.

“Amy Thantihago! I wath beginning tho think you were nether coming!” Jake exclaimed around the spoon in his mouth, a grin widening on his face. Chocolate pudding was painted over his teeth, which the pudding had also taken over. Gina was sitting next to him, a cheeky smile spread across her face. 

“Stop being so gross, you weirdo.” Amy scoffed at him, yet she couldn’t help the small grin which formed on her face. She claimed the chair next to Gina, and just as she did, Gina sat up, raising an eyebrow at Amy.

“Thank god you’re here. Seriously, I’ve literally been here all day, and I was supposed to binge Survivor.” Gina pulled her purse onto her shoulder, approaching the door.

“Where’s Rosa? I thought she was here instead.” Amy asked Gina, making the woman stop.

“She went home, like, forever ago. I had to get her to tell you Jake was up.” Gina informed her in an impatient tone, chewing her jaw. 

“Why didn’t you just call me and tell me yourself?” Amy questioned with a furrowed brow.

“You really think I have your number saved in my phone?” Gina turned with an eye roll, scoffing at Amy before hurriedly opening the door, letting it swing closed behind her. Amy heard Jake laugh behind her. She huffed in frustration, turning back to her friend and settling her hurt feelings.

“So, how do you feel?” Amy asked, resting her hands on her thighs and smiling at him. 

“Fine. You know what? This pudding is so bad that it’s pretty good.” Jake segued, his eyes fixed on the pudding, shovelling another scoop into his mouth. 

“Uhm, that’s good,” Amy scratched at her head awkwardly, holding her bicep with her hand. “Are you… okay? Does your head hurt at all?” 

“Nope. You know, I wonder what they have on the TV!” Jake exclaimed, grabbing for the remote and clicking the buttons. Amy pinched her nose and gave a sigh of annoyance, when suddenly, the TV began blaring, the voices of two characters wailing loudly in her ears. 

“Jake!” Amy yelped, covering her ears.

“Did not know it was going to be that loud!” Jake chuckled sheepishly. Frowning in irritation, Amy made another attempt to ask how he was.

“Do you know how much longer–”

“Oh look! They have Law and Order! You know, I’ve only ever watched a few episodes, I really gotta see more-”

“Jake!” Amy yelled again. This time, he turned to her, his eyes widened in bewilderment, cheeks dusted with a light blush. “Look, I’m trying to ask you how you are, and you keep avoiding my questions! You’re making me really mad right now!” Amy shouted, chewing her jaw while balling her fists. 

“Are you seriously yelling at a person who has just been through something incredibly traumatic?” Jake placed a hand on his chest in faux offence. For a moment, Amy felt guilt tear at her heart, regret ripping at her brain when she spotted his cheeky smile. The feelings of remorse were swept away with anger and hurt. 

“When will you ever learn to take something seriously?” She snapped, standing up and towering over him. “Do you know how much I worried about you? I got barely any sleep the other night, sitting at your bedside! And this is what I get for caring about you!” She ground her teeth, stomping towards the exit, facing the door. She planted her hand on the handle, ready to step out.

“Wait, Amy-”

“Save it!” she whirled around, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “I am so done with you!” And with that, she slammed the door behind her, leaving the hospital room in a cold state with remnants of hurt feelings.

Amy leaned against the brick building, one foot pressed against the stone. Between two of her fingers balanced a cigarette, which she pressed to her lips, pulling in the tantalizing smoke, feeling the nicotine swirl in her body and press down on her nerves, attempting to settle them. She closed her eyes for a moment, blowing out the smoke and listening to the rain patter softly onto the concrete, cars zooming on the wet roads in the distance. She was standing behind the hospital, leaning up against the exterior wall, standing just under a side roof. 

She could still feel anger and resentment toiling away in her stomach, bitter feelings grabbing at her nerves, and yet empathy boiled in her heart, spreading through her veins. The two feelings clashed with each other, battling one another to overcome her. This made her hands shake with anxiety and her head spin, so she stilled it and brought the mix of feelings to a simmer, taking another drag of the cigarette. 

“Amy?” She opened her eyes, fixing them on the figure of Jake in front of her. His hair clung to his forehead, water streaming from his head, painting his whole figure in liquid. His hospital gown stuck uncomfortably on his body, wrinkling and straightening as his chest heaved, his mouth puffing air as he attempted to catch his breath.

“Jake, I can’t do this right now,” She shook her head, crossing her arms. “You really should go back inside. You’re pretty much soaked to the bone.”

“No, wait,” He called after her when she began walking away. She stopped in her tracks, looking back at him. “Look, I’m really sorry. That was, like, super insensitive of me, and I feel really bad.” He scratched the back of his head. “It’s just– well, what happened was super shitty and I just really wanna forget about it.” He sighed, hanging his head before lifting it again. “And I know I really shouldn’t just bottle it all up, but until I find a better method, that’s what I’m gonna do.” He shrugged with a smile. She rolled her eyes, yet a fond smile of her own appeared on her face.

“Jake Peralta and his great coping methods, huh?” She planted a hand on her hip, jutting it out to the side, fixing him with a raised eyebrow. They both laughed, the sound warm and whole compared to before. 

“We should probably get back before one of the nurses thinks I’ve escaped,” Jake told her.

“Good idea.” She nodded, beginning to walk with him. Through the corner of her eye, she watched as he shivered, body trembling in the cold like a leaf. For the first time since they were outside, she realized he was probably as cold as ice. “Do you want my jacket?” 

“Oh, please! I was waiting for you to offer.” She giggled, taking off her rain jacket and helping him pull it over his arms. 

“Your bandage is totally wrecked from the rain,” She remarked, taking it upon herself to fix it. As she was adjusting the white cloth, she noticed the way he was looking at her, his expression a mix of confusion and surprise. Immediately, she pulled back, embarrassment flooding her body. 

“Oh, god, I’m sorry, I totally just overstepped!” She yelped in shame, hiding her face in her hands. She heard Jake give a chuckle, making her slowly pull her fingers away from her eyes.

“It’s whatever. I just didn’t think you cared about me that much,” He smirked confidently, tilting his chin upwards. She swatted him on the arm, causing them both to burst out in laughter. Once their chuckles had faded, she realized she had drifted closer to him, close enough that their bodies were almost touching. The warmth of his skin radiated against hers, they breathed in the same air, and the tips of their noses hardly collided. So when he slightly leaned forward, so did she, and then their lips pressed together and his hands found her waist, pulling her flush against him. 

The moment was like magic, a thrill of excitement which no cigarette or mug of coffee could beat. His lips tasted like sweet chocolate pudding, and she was sure hers tasted like smoke, and despite that, he kissed her, kissed her so softly that she would think a teddy bear was sharp. Her hands found his shoulders, gripping on as tightly as she could, kissing back as passionately as he was, yet so gently at the same time. 

When they finally pulled away, they rested their foreheads against each other’s, bandage against skin, wet against dry. They both panted in exhilaration, hearts beating rapidly together, the thumps more carrying than a drum-beat. 

“If I’d known you were that good at kissing, I’d have kissed you earlier.” Jake puffed, swollen lips quirking up at the corners. 

“Yeah,” She breathed out, still riding that high. They both released each other, resuming the path they had paused.

“So, no compliment back? Not even some cliche ‘Not too bad yourself’?” Jake asked her.

“I knew you were fishing for compliments, you butthead.” Amy scoffed.

“How could you? How could you call me a butthead? That hurts, Amy, it really hurts.” He fake sobbed. She rolled her eyes yet again, grinning at him. As they walked, their hands intertwined, fingers crossing. And when she felt her clammy, sweaty palms press against his –which were equally as sweaty– she knew everything would be okay.

Chapter Text

“Whoo! I won!” Jake threw his cards down on the table with a roar, lifting his arms into the air. He ignored the way his head pounded from the loud noise that he made and the way the world spun when he moved. 

“How do you always win?” Amy groaned, tossing her cards down.

“I’m just unbeatable,” He grinned with a laugh.

“It’s true! I’ve never beaten you at Go Fish, and it’s my go-to card game!” Charles exclaimed from behind him, nodding enthusiastically.

“That is such a lie,” Rosa shook her head. “I’ve never lost to you,” She pointed at Jake. 

“That’s true. I’ve seen you beat him over and over again—fast, aggressive, no mercy. Classic Rosa.” Charles shook his head while all of the detectives simultaneously gave noises of disgust. Just then, the door swung open, revealing Jake’s doctor.

“Alright, your discharge papers are all processed.” He announced, placing the papers on the counter. “You’re free to leave.” 

“Yes! Oww!” Jake yelped, jerking upwards. His head spun, the entire world moving around him. All at the same time, his friends reached forward, giving him a hand, trying to help steady him. He slapped the fingers away, digging his fingernails into the bedsheets as he straightened himself, waiting until everything went straight. 

“Are you okay?” Amy asked, her voice dripping with worry. He waved his hand at her with a sigh, standing up off the bed.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Jake reassured her, stepping forward on his own. 

They walked out of the hospital together, Charles carrying all of Jake’s stuff. Jake had tried to take it himself, but Charles insisted, and he figured he might as well let him help if it made him happy. 

Holt was standing outside by his car, raising a hand and waving at Jake. He was going to drive the detective to his apartment so that everyone else could go home themselves. Jake bid farewell to the other detectives before making his way up to Holt.

Jake opened the door to his apartment, the familiar smell of his home making him close his eyes in satisfaction. He stepped inside, breathing in the familiar air.

“You know, I just realized you’ve never seen my apartment!” Jake opened his eyes, shouting the words at Holt. He watched Holt look around the apartment, his usually stoic face slightly morphed, the smallest expression of disgust on his face.

“Is this how your apartment usually is?” Holt asked. Jake looked around the room, tilting his head in confusion. Sure, it was messy, but it wasn’t that bad. 

“It’s been worse,” Jake informed him. He hopped towards the kitchen, pulling open the cabinets, searching for food.

“I could help you clean up,” Holt offered, a slightly awkward tone in his voice. Jake frowned at the empty cabinets, remembering he was supposed to get groceries before he… well…

“That’s fine.” Jake dismissed him, closing the cabinets. “I prefer it like this anyway.”

“Is there… anything I can help you with?” Holt asked. Irritation burned in Jake’s stomach. 

“No, that’s fine.” Jake dismissed him again, his voice cold and monotone. 

“Well, then, I suppose I should be going,” Holt announced, shoes scuffing against the floor as he moved toward the door. Jake pushed down the guilt that began toiling in his stomach, leaning against the counter, and looking down at the surface. He heard the door open, causing him to turn his head away. And when he expected the sound of the same door closing, it didn’t, and instead, he was met with silence.

“I care about you, Jacob,” Holt spoke, his usually commanding and loud voice quiet and soft. Jake turned, looking at the captain. His head hung down, and he leaned against the door, hand gripping the edge.

“I know,” Jake nodded, confusion making him raise his brow.

“I should have visited you more in the hospital.” Holt sighed. “I just couldn’t stand seeing you so, well, different.”

“It’s fine, I understand,” Jake nodded, not sure where this was going.

“I found you there, passed out.” Holt looked away, voice suddenly gravelly and emotional. Oh, Jake thought, realization settling in. “You were so delirious and confused. I felt so relieved when I saw you, but at the same time, it was horrible.”

“I imagined you when I was there,” Jake said abruptly. Holt looked up at him, his face puzzled. “Well, when I was… high… I saw you.” Jake scratched his head. “It was weird. Zero out of ten, do not recommend. Just wait until I get Yelp,” Jake chuckled awkwardly, crossing his arms and shuffling his feet. 

“We would have never stopped trying to find you,” Holt told him. “We love you, Jake.” Jake blinked at him, not sure what to say, before he swallowed, fixing Holt with a respectful nod and a sincere smile.

“Thank you, Captain.”

Jake looked down at his beer, squinting at the bottle, peering at the liquid, making sure nothing looked off about it. Once deemed fit, he took a sip, savouring the cold temperature. After he swallowed and had put the beer back down, he made sure his hand was wrapped around the neck, guarding it as if it were his child.

“You sure you’re fine with being here?” Amy nudged him. Jake rolled his eyes at her, nudging her playfully back, yet not being able to face the pure look of concern sparkling in her beautifully doe-like eyes. 

“Yes, I’m fine, ” He reassured her, gulping down more of his drink. 

It had been a week since he was discharged from the hospital. During that week, he had been forced to stay home and go to a therapist, and all of his friends had been coddling him like a baby. Even Rosa was nicer than usual! However, he let them. He empathized with them through the fact they had no idea whether they would find him alive or dead. So let them worry. They earned it.

Tonight, the whole squad was gathering at Shaw’s to celebrate Jake coming back to work. Despite the fact he was only to be assigned light duties, it was still a reason to meet at the bar and drink. 

Amy and Rosa had been the ones to wrap up his case and answer some things they hadn’t figured out. Jake had been told a little bit about the information they had found, yet he didn’t really want to know everything. 

“Jake! Wanna come play pool? I need a partner!” Charles’ voice carried through the bar, making Jake lift his head and search through the building, finding his friend standing at the pool table. Terry and Holt stood with them, all three men holding cues in their hands, Terry rubbing chalk on the end of his and squinting at it. Sitting at the counter closest to them were Gina and Rosa, who seemed to be deep in conversation about something. Jake held his thumb out in approval, shuffling out of the booth. 

“You wanna play?” Jake asked Amy, taking the final swig of his beer.

“I think I’m gonna sit with Gina and Rosa, thanks though,” She smiled at him, her face warm and comforting. He smiled back, bliss filling his heart at the sight of her face, and he thought to himself how lucky he was to have a partner as amazing as she was.

“Here you are.” Holt passed him a cue as he approached the table. Jake thanked him quietly and watched as Terry made the break shot, sending flashes of colour scattering across the emerald green baize cloth. 

“Are you ready for work tomorrow?” Holt asked Jake.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Jake replied as he watched Charles hit at a solid, the ball tumbling down the pocket. He pumped his fists in a triumphant motion, giving Terry a condescending smirk before setting up his cue again. “I know it’s just gonna be paperwork and whatnot, but I’ve been going crazy sitting at home all day.” Holt hummed in understanding before moving to take his turn. While he did, Jake turned his head, watching as Amy rolled her eyes at Gina and nudged her playfully. He couldn’t help the smile that spread on his face.

“So you and Amy, huh?” Terry asked, one eyebrow raised with a playful smirk under his nose. His voice was lowered slightly, not to draw Amy’s attention.

“What about her?” Jake asked, moving to do his turn.

“You two have been awfully close lately,” Charles smirked at Jake, moving his eyebrows in a suggestive motion. Jake scoffed at him, rolling his eyes. He hit the cue ball right into the orange 5 ball, sending it hurtling into the corner pocket. He let out a celebratory whoop, scanning the table for a new position.

“Boyle is right,” Holt remarked, causing Jake to look up from his stick, surprised by the Captain’s input. “She’s been with you this whole week.” 

Jake didn’t respond, chewing his lip as he hit the cue ball again, aiming for the red 7. Instead, it slid just past the ball, hitting nothing but air as it slowed to a stop. He stepped back, watching as Terry went for his go.

“Well, actually,” Jake stood up, looking at her. This time she seemed to notice, turning on her stool and facing him, her beautiful eyes sparkling with confusion. She looked at all the faces around the pool table, then back to Jake, realization taking over the puzzling expression she had before. She gave him a smile, and an understanding passed between them as she gave him a silent approval. “We’re dating.”

“What?” Charles’s let out a shriek, his stick clattering to the floor. The bar went silent at the loud sound, heads whipping around to look at the short man. He gave a sheepish smile, looking around insecurely before fixing his attention back on Jake, voice quieter yet not calmer whatsoever. “You’re dating?”

“Haha!” Rosa laughed, a wicked grin cracked on her face. She turned sharply to Gina, thrusting her hand out, palm facing upwards. “Pay up.” Gina gave a loud groan, pulling cash out of her wallet and placing two fifty-dollar bills in her hand. Rosa’s grin stayed as she shook the money in Gina’s face, cackling as she tucked it into her pocket. The group around them shared looks of confusion, puzzled mumbles being shared all around.

“Did you guys have a bet?” Amy gasped out, offence shimmering on her face.

“And you guys seriously didn’t include anyone else? I could have had fifty dollars in my pocket! Probably more! You know how much I’ve wanted these two to go to town on each other!” Charles exclaimed again; however, this time his voice was hushed to an appropriate level. Despite that, each and every one of the detectives let out a noise of disgust at the words, making Charles scoff at their revulsion.

“I only bet because I was convinced Jake would never go for Jamie.” Gina huffed, crossing her arms. She rolled her eyes promptly at the still cocky smirk on Rosa’s face, giving her a hard nudge. 

“We have known each other for years! You know my name! ” Amy objected, waving her arms about. 

“And why would I never go for Amy?” Jake questioned. “She’s, like, perfect in every way. And so much better than me.” He said sincerely. Amy turned to him, giving a sweet smile with appreciation plastered over her face. This elicited a groan from Gina, making her hang her head, while Charles squealed.

“You guys are so gross,” Gina shouted. 

“They’re perfect for each other!” Charles announced at the same time as Gina. Almost at once, the two people swung their heads to each other, challenging the other with a daring glare.

“Okay, okay, no need to be hostile,” Terry tapped Charles’s shoulder in a relaxing motion, coaxing him backward while Rosa simply giggled instead of stopping Gina.

Jake watched as Charles began on another rage-fuelled rant, observing as he shook his fist and burned with anger when Gina gave a calm, clever comeback. Terry tried to keep Charles at bay while Rosa laughed at the conversation, Gina maintaining a careless attitude. While Amy seemed to be a little bit creeped out by Charles’s fixation, she still interjected and nodded to side with Charles, backing him up. While this all went down, a warm feeling swelled in Jake’s stomach, a sense of home bursting from each person around him. He smiled and laughed with the others and made gross faces at the strange comments Charles made. He even looked at Holt at one point and saw a smile on his face, a sight rarer than a grin on Rosa. That was when he really knew he was safe now. 

He was home.