Chapter Text
“Santiago. Peralta. I want you both on the case.”
Amy’s stomach does a somersault, her heart pounding wildly against her chest, threatening to burst out through her ribcage and flop onto the table in front of her. She watches in bewilderment as Jake throws her a quick glance over his shoulder, and she rushes to flash him a weak smile, though she thinks it may appear as more of a grimace.
Her eyes remain on him long after he looks away, and she has to force herself to avert her gaze, trying desperately to focus on Captain Holt, who stands behind the podium at the front of the briefing room. With a quiet, awkward clear of her throat and an unnecessary scratch behind her ear, she focuses on the words coming out of her captain’s mouth in a forlorn attempt to ignore Rosa’s curious and questioning eyes on her.
Vaguely, in the very back of her mind, she is aware of Jake agreeing to Holt’s request, sealing in the idea of them working a case together once again. Any hopes of avoiding her partner forever, for as long as it took for the awkward tension and embarrassment between them to fade away, are suddenly and violently killed before her eyes, her breath faltering as she realises that Jake is looking at her once again, a kind and reassuring but small and nervous smile gracing his features. Amy feels her cheeks heat up and her mouth go dry as she gives him one tiny nod of the head, acknowledging his gaze.
The briefing seems to come to an end impossibly soon after, and Amy is left sighing at her incomplete notes. She tries to pretend she doesn’t see Jake approaching her as she collects her papers, keeping her eyes trained on the desk before her while the room bustles with activity, her colleagues flooding out of the room all around her.
When she hears his voice, her breath catches in her throat. “Uh, hey,” he says, and when she finally looks up at him, he has a little lopsided smile on his face that makes her heart feel like it is about to burst. As a result, she feels a smile tugging at her lips too, and she allows it to appear as she tucks her papers under her arm.
“Hi,” she replies shyly, her voice breaking more than she expects it to. She reaches up to push a loose piece of hair out of her face, just looking for something, anything, for her hands to do.
Jake stares at her for a little while longer, maybe a little too long as by the time she diverts her gaze uncomfortably her cheeks are heating up once again. She hears him clear his throat, her eyes focusing on the way his hands are tensing and untensing, the veins in the backs of his arms pulsing in the way that always makes Amy’s stomach flutter.
“So…” he begins, trailing off almost immediately, and Amy is left to compose herself, her eyes darting up quickly to meet his again, “do you wanna, um, check out the crime scene?” His eyes are large and innocent, his gaze shy, as though he expects her to refuse. She watches as he lifts his hand to rub the back of his neck, and Amy is suddenly overwhelmingly aware of the fact that she should not be so captivated by the way his bicep flexes as he does.
Amy pulls the inside of her cheek between her teeth, biting down painfully to ground herself. “Sure,” she hums, hoping that she sounds more confident in her decision than she feels. As discreetly as she can, she wipes the sweat from her palms onto the backs of her trousers.
Jake’s shy smile slowly morphs into a wide, toothy grin and he gives her a quick nod. “Okay, great,” he says, sounding surprisingly more enthusiastic than she’s ever heard him sound before. “I’ll drive.”
Amy has to roll the window down in Jake’s car because she can’t seem to get enough air in otherwise, momentarily forgetting how to breath amongst the anxiety of the situation. She keeps her gaze focused out the window, even when she feels Jake’s eyes on her, glancing at her every so often. She focuses on the way her chest rises and falls as she breathes, the way the quiet sound of the radio playing cuts into the complete silence of the car.
Eventually, no more than ten minutes into the drive, she hears Jake sigh and, knowing that he is going to start talking, she holds her breath in anticipation. “So,” he breathes eventually, and Amy drags her eyes over to look at him. His eyes are trained on the road before them as he grips the steering wheel firmly. “How are you? We haven’t really spoken since…” he trails off after that, causing Amy to take a sharp intake of breath.
She swallows thickly, unsure whether her mouth will allow her to respond to his question. “I’m good,” she manages, her voice hoarse. “How’s, uh, Sophia?” The name physically burns her tongue as she says it, and when she sees Jake’s jaw clench, she immediately regrets ever asking about his girlfriend in the first place.
“She’s fine,” he replies, glancing across at Amy with a small, faraway smile on his face. “Good. Yeah.”
Amy forces a weak smile in response and replies, “Good,” before she turns back to look out of the window. Her heart is in her throat, and she is ready for the car to be plunged back into dead silence when Jake lets out a sigh and begins to talk again.
“Look, Amy,” she breaths sharply at his use of her first name, “I’m really sorry about how awkward things have been between us these past few weeks. I just- just want things to go back to normal… you know?”
She glances across at him, watching his mouth move as he finishes talking, still watching when he takes his bottom lip between his teeth and nibbles slightly, and she isn’t sure she’ll ever be able to look at him without butterflies appearing in her stomach ever again. “I’m sorry, too, Jake,” she says quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I- uh, you’ll never let me live this down but, uh, I’ve missed you. A lot.”
Jake’s face stretches into a grin. “I’ve missed you, too, dork.” He pauses and looks over at Amy with his brows raised, looking mischievous. “And you’re right, I will never let you forget that.” His face lights up in a laugh and Amy finds herself giggling along with him as she relaxes back into her chair.
She shakes her head, turning to look back out of the window, and she doesn’t stop smiling for the rest of the drive. When they finally pull up outside of the crime scene and Amy glances at the notes, realising she wasn’t really concentrating at this morning’s briefing and as a result failed to realise that this case is that of a suspected homicide, she has to forcefully wipe the grin off her face and mask it with a sombre expression.
After pausing briefly to collect shoe covers and gloves, she and Jake make their way up to the apartment, and she tries to ignore the electric shock that travels through her body, culminating in a firework-like explosion in her chest, when Jake’s hand brushes against hers in the elevator. She recoils and he gives her a sheepish smile. She doesn’t have time to process it before the elevator slows to a halt and they have to step out and into the crime scene.
The forensic investigators are already present at the scene, swarming around the body like flies to a fruit basket. Amy ducks under the police tape to enter the apartment, Jake hot on her heels, and she takes in the scene as she pulls on her gloves. With a careful nod to the officers waiting for them, Amy pulls the casefile out from under her arm and scans over it for a quick summary of the case, trying to ignore the way Jake’s warm breath flutters over her shoulder as he leans over her to read the notes.
He is impossibly close, and it shouldn’t affect her the way it does. After all, he has been closer to her before, his face centimetres away from her while he helps her run through the breathing exercises learned at the academy to be used after a particularly haunting case, his body pressed up against hers in a hug after they finally managed to solve a difficult and complicated assault, but things have changed and this closeness is almost too much for her altogether. She finishes reading the notes as quickly as she can, ashamed of the way she skips potentially important information just to get away from him as quickly as she can.
It’s not till she jolts away from him that a wave of nausea hits her. She gasps in a breath, squeezing her eyes closed as the feeling overcomes her and stumbling towards the body. Her head spins momentarily before she feels a pair of strong hands on her upper arms; Jake’s warm hands grip her, holding her steady as she groans uneasily.
“Amy?” He is speaking but his voice is very far away, further away than it should be considering she can feel his breath fanning over the back of her neck again. “Are you okay?”
“I think- think I’m gonna-” she manages before her breath catches in her throat and the room suddenly seems to be much too small and much too warm, the walls closing in on her. A few large, black spots appear before her eyes and then she is falling backwards into Jake’s arms, and his voice is panicked and breathy as he catches her firmly, reliable as ever, and she is fading, and then she is going, going, going, gone.
Jake’s voice is the first thing she hears when her hearing comes back to her. Her throat and mouth feel drier than the Sahara Desert and her tongue is like sandpaper when it darts out of her mouth in an attempt to wet her crusted lips. She tries to open her eyes, but her eyelids feel heavy and it seems impossible, so she merely lets out a small groan to let Jake know she is awake.
“Ames, you’re awake,” he sighs, and the use of her nickname causes a shiver to run down her spine, the movement cluing her up to the fact that Jake’s hand is cradling her head, preventing her from resting it on the hard, wooden floor and supporting her neck. “Thank God.”
“M’awake,” she mumbles, finally able to peel her eyes open just a little bit. It takes a moment for her to adjust to the light, squinting her eyes as Jake’s face comes in and out of focus periodically. “What- what happened?”
Though she is still groggy, she can now she the worry written across Jake’s face, his eyebrows knitted together in concern. “You passed out. Do you feel okay? Are you hurt?” The panic in his voice is hidden well aside from the slight wobble threaded through his words. Amy picks up on it instantly, recognising it from the times when they’d had to share particularly difficult news with a victim’s family.
She parts her lips, swallowing once and remembering the lack of moisture inside her mouth. “W- water,” she manages, unsure of what else to say, and Jake’s eyes light up immediately.
“Oh! Yeah, of course, water!” Jake says hurriedly, and then he throws his head over his shoulder and continues, now speaking to someone else. “Can we get some water please?”
Amy is now painfully aware of the fact that there are other people here, and also of the fact that she just fainted in the middle of a crime scene, potentially tainting important evidence. She groans once, her body aching as she attempts to push herself up off the floor, desperate to move out of the apartment, but a blinding pain hits her right in the temples, and she is left clutching at her forehead. “Oh, God,” she grumbles.
She feels Jake’s spare hand, the one that is not currently supporting her head, on her shoulder, the warmth reassuring as he pushes her gently back down. “Hey, no. Stay here just now, okay? Don’t try to get up yet.” His voice is soft and quiet, and convincing enough for Amy to listen as she gazes up into his eyes, silently putting her trust in him.
“Here,” Amy hears an unfamiliar voice say, and then she feels Jake’s hand leave her shoulder and almost outright whines at the loss of the comforting contact. A few seconds later though, Jake’s hand comes back into view, this time clutching a plastic cup of water, and she reaches for it immediately.
“Let me help you,” Jake says, pulling the cup slightly out of her reach for a moment. She stares at him, glaring momentarily at his insistence before she slowly nods, accepting her fate, and allows him to gently lift her head off the floor and help her to take a sip of water from the cup. She holds the liquid in her mouth for a moment, savouring the feeling before she swallows dramatically, leading Jake to chuckle slightly.
“Want- need- to sit up.” Amy conjoins the broken words to make a sort-of-sentence, and watches as Jake seems to consider her request for a moment before he nods and begins to heave her into an upright position. She slides her hands to the ground behind her to support her, and finally she is upright, the ache in her temples fading into the background.
Amy glances around nervously at the many people surrounding her, and Jake seems to catch on because he throws the words, “She’s fine, everyone,” over his shoulder, giving them a look Amy can’t explain but that leads them to hesitantly disperse and go back to their work. Jake turns back to her with an uneasy smile on his face. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Uh,” Amy begins, considering the question, and then she nods slightly. Jake removes his hand from behind her head, but Amy notices that his other hand still grips her wrist tightly, as if he is trying to reassure both of them that she is okay. “Yeah. I feel fine now.”
Jake nods, then smiles sheepishly. “That was pretty scary, Santiago,” he admits, and Amy laughs ever so slightly, watching as he scratches the back of his neck earnestly.
“Aw, you were worried about me,” she says with a small smirk, though a part of her is unsure whether this now crosses the line into flirting rather than innocent banter.
“I see you’re feeling better already,” Jake retorts, grimacing dramatically before he laughs brightly. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.” He pauses. “I can, uh- I can carry you if-”
“Jake,” Amy says disapprovingly, though part of her is wondering what it would feel like if Jake was to carry her out of here. “I can walk.”
“Okay. I know. I just-” he cuts his sentence short, sighing deeply, and then smiles slightly at her. “At least let me help you up.” Amy opens her mouth to argue but Jake holds his hand up, silencing her. “It’s not up for debate, Santiago.” His voice is firm, authoritative even, but there is still a softness there, buried deep within the command.
Amy sighs in defeat and holds her hand out, and Jake grips it. He stands up first, and on his way, he grabs her waist, helping heave her to her feet as he goes. She is left to suck in a deep breath at the touch, clambering to her feet ungracefully and trying not to give in to the way her knees wobble when she stands.
“You good?” Jake asks, hand still gripping her waist and the other locked into her own.
She swallows thickly and gives a small nod, releasing her grip on his hand. “I’m good,” she confirms, and a moment passes before he peels his hands away from her, watching her carefully in obvious concern. She raises her eyebrows. “Jake. I said I’m good.”
Jake sighs and nods his head slowly. “Okay. Let’s go. I’m driving you home.”
Amy blinks in dismay, watching as he turns to head for the door. She follows him unsteadily, her balance still slightly thrown off, and begins to protest. “Wait, what? No, I’m not going home. My shift-”
Jake laughs in disbelief as he ducks under the police tape, Amy following suit promptly afterwards. “You’re taking the rest of the day off.” He tells her, glancing back at her to make sure she manages to emerge from the apartment on her own.
“But Captain Holt-”
“I’m pretty sure Holt will understand,” Jake says, and Amy sighs because she knows he is right. “Just let me drive you home.”
“Fine.” Amy says, rolling her eyes as they step into the elevator. She leans against the back wall, stifling her groan of pain as best she can at the thumping in her head, but from the look of concern, Jake notices. She flashes him as convincing a smile as she can, and he studies her for a moment longer before the elevator grinds to a halt and he is forced to look away.
As Jake starts up the car, he glances over at Amy briefly. “So, what happened back there?” He asks, causing Amy to sigh quietly.
“I don’t know,” she admits. “I guess- maybe I didn’t eat enough for breakfast this morning.” She pushes back the knowledge that she definitely did eat enough this morning, replacing it with the thought of how lucky she is to have a partner who looks after her like Jake does.
The drive back to Amy’s apartment is mostly quiet, apart from the sound of Jake quietly humming along to the song playing on the radio, and Amy tries to ignore the worry pulsing in her chest. She hasn’t gotten sick for years and she hasn’t passed out since high school, and the thought of what might be causing her to feel so ill makes her chew violently on her nails until her fingertips begin to bleed.
It isn’t until they are five minutes away from her apartment that Amy begins to feel unwell again. She isn’t sure if it’s just nerves causing it but she suddenly feels queasy, and she isn’t sure she’ll make it all the way home, so she puffs her cheeks out to stop herself from vomiting and pats Jake’s arm relentlessly to gain his attention.
He glances across at her, and his eyes widen in what looks like concern. “Amy? Do you feel alright?” She shakes her head wildly, pointing out of the window of the car violently. “Pull over?” She nods rapidly, and then closes her eyes and tilts her head back, trying to breathe as she feels the car pull over and come to a slow halt.
Amy jumps out of the vehicle, her feet barely on the ground when she begins heaving, throwing up onto the grass. Her eyes water with tears, but it’s not long before she feels Jake behind her, one hand gathering her hair to hold it out of her face and the other rubbing gentle circles in her back. She feels her heart melt just a little, even though she can’t seem to hide the embarrassment of vomiting in front of him, her cheeks reddening as she finishes, taking the deepest breath that she can as her body continues to spasm in an attempt to rid her stomach of all its contents.
She gasps for breath, clutching at her tender stomach, and focuses on Jake’s hand stroking her back.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Jake’s soft voice says, and she closes her eyes, relishing the sound for just a moment before she reaches up to wipe at her mouth. “You’re okay.”
Amy straightens her back out slowly, feeling Jake’s hands drop from her body instantly, almost as if he has been touching molten lava for the last few minutes. She sniffs, wiping the tears from her face before she turns to him.
“You look like shit,” he blurts, and then his eyes light up as a playful but soft smile takes over his face.
Amy rolls her eyes. “Thanks,” she says sarcastically, throwing him a short-lived glare before she laughs slightly. “I feel like shit. I must have food poisoning or- or something.”
Jake gives her a sympathetic smile and reaches out to touch her shoulder, guiding her towards the car. She allows herself to lean into his touch ever so slightly, trying not to think about the fact that she just spewed right in front of him. “Come on. Let’s get you home.” He says, standing beside the car to make sure she can clamber in on her own, and she nods in agreement.
Throughout the short ride to her apartment, Amy notices Jake glancing at her every few seconds, concern evident in his eyes. The first few times, she ignores him, still focused on steadying her breathing and kneading the slightly painful muscles of her stomach, but eventually she twists her body towards him, a small smile on her face.
“Jake,” she laughs slightly, and he turns to look at her, his eyebrows raised in what seems like alarm, causing her laughing to intensify slightly. “I’m fine. You don’t have to keep looking at me.”
Jake seems to visibly relax at her words, and he awards her with a breathy chuckle. “Sorry,” he says, smiling in what seems like a slightly self-conscious manner. “Glad you’re feeling better now.” He pauses. “You’re still taking the rest of today off though.”
Amy sighs, throwing her head back to rest against the headrest of the passenger seat. “I guess that’s probably a good idea,” she mumbles, reluctant to admit it.
“Glad we’re all in agreement,” Jake says, leading Amy to suspect that he would have put up a fight if she’d refused to stay home for the rest of the day.
“I should call Holt,” she says, unable to hide the nervous tone in her voice at the thought of telling Holt she isn’t able to come back in and work the remainder of her shift. Even though she accepts the fact that staying at home is the most responsible choice, she can’t remember the last time she stayed off work and she doesn’t feel nearly sick enough anymore to use illness as an excuse.
“Don’t worry. I got it covered.” Jake says, throwing her a reassuring smile. “I’ll let him know you’re taking the rest of today off.”
Amy opens her mouth to refuse his offer, but then decides against it, pressing her lips into a thin smile. “Okay. Thanks, Jake.” Letting Jake tell Holt would take some pressure off of her, after all. A few seconds after she speaks, the car slows to a halt outside her apartment building, and she clears her throat before speaking again. “For everything. For- for looking out for me today.”
Jake nods, as though he is acknowledging her thanks. “Let me walk you to your apartment,” he says simply, twisting his body to look at Amy.
She shakes her head. “Jake, it’s fine.” She raises her eyebrows sternly when he gives her a questioning, unsure look. “Seriously. I’m fine. I feel much better already.”
Jake seems like he wants to object, but after a few seconds of opening and closing his mouth, he nods slowly, looking remarkably similar to a dejected puppy. “Okay,” he says softly. “Just- let me know if you need anything.”
Amy smiles, her heart swelling at his generous offer of help should she need it. “I will,” she says quietly.
Jake doesn’t say anything else, instead opting to watch her slowly as she retrieves her purse from the footwell and climbs out of the car. She watches him leave from the curb, waiting to wave, and then turns towards her apartment when his car disappears from sight, overcome by the urge to chase after him and tell him that yes, she would, in fact, like him to walk her home. Instead, she takes a deep breath and heads into her apartment building alone.
Tears are pricking at her eyes and she isn’t even sure why. Sure, things have been awkward between her and Jake lately (exceedingly so) but they talked it through on the way to the crime scene and things are fine now. No damage has been done as a result of her selfish crush on Jake – he isn’t upset with her; things aren’t awkward between them anymore and things are fine between him and Sophia. There isn’t any reason that Amy should be feeling the way she does, that her heart should feel like it is breaking into a million pieces inside her chest.
When she finally reaches her apartment and steps foot inside, she throws her purse to the side and kicks off her shoes, not even pausing to hang her purse up or line her shoes up on her doormat. She shuffles to the sofa and flops down onto it with a sigh, tilting her head back until she is staring up at the ceiling and allowing the burning tears to begin spilling from her eyes and down her cheeks.
There is a part of her, deep down, that knows she is upset because Jake is still with Sophia, and every other part of her hates that part of herself.
Even after Amy admitted to having had recent feelings for him, he still hasn’t chosen to be with her. He is with Sophia; perfect, smart, beautiful Sophia. Amy isn’t good enough for him, just like she has known all along. All she will ever truly be to him is his nerdy, irritating partner – maybe a friend if she is lucky.
Amy allows herself five short minutes to wallow in her own self pity before she picks herself up and dusts herself off. Feeling like this over a guy isn’t something Amy has ever allowed herself to do before and she isn’t going to start now. No matter how she feels about Jake, she has to push those feelings down and trust that, just as Sophia was out there all along for Jake, the right man for her is out there somewhere, waiting for the chance to meet her.
Solemnly, she makes her way to the bathroom, ready to wash the tears from her face and finally get a chance to brush the taste of vomit from her mouth. Under the bright bathroom lights, she stares into the mirror at herself, noting the tear tracks on her skin and the puffy, redness of her cheeks, and then something off to her side catches her eye, stopping her in her tracks.
Suddenly, the thought is burning bright in the centre of her mind: when was the last time she got her period?
Dragging her eyes away from the tampons above her toilet, she fumbles for her cell phone in her pocket. She locates her calendar app and opens it, scrolling quickly through the months, back to the middle of September, the last time she had her period. It’s early December now. How could she not have noticed this until now?
Amy’s stomach twists with unease, her heart thundering in her chest as her gaze finds the box of tampons again, locking onto it and refusing to move away. For a long moment, she stands there, her body completely frozen but her mind racing. She can’t be pregnant. Can she?
With a strangled exhale, she locates her stash of secret pregnancy tests (kept in her apartment just in case of a scare) and holds three in the palm of her hand, staring down them. She remembers the unnecessary embarrassment she felt when buying them, the irrational feeling that the whole store was staring at her, judging her. Fear taking over, she closes her grasp around the pregnancy tests, squeezing the plastic between her fingers, and then, with a pitiful and long whine, she decides to take them.
It’s difficult to set the tests up with her hands shaking so much, but eventually they are all laid out in a neat, straight line on her bathroom shelve, developing as she sits on the cold tile floor, her back pressed against the walls and her teeth working on chewing her fingernails even further. The five minutes between taking the tests and waiting for her timer to go off seem like an eternity, but eventually the sound rings through her apartment, and suddenly she doesn’t even want to know, can’t even bring herself to move, so she sits there for a while longer, staring into space, counting the racing beats of her heart.
Things with Teddy were bad. Really bad. He wasn’t rude or violent. The opposite, actually. He was kind and respectable and he always told her she looked beautiful first thing after waking up. But Amy wasn’t happy with him, and the thought of their lives being intertwined forever is almost too much for her (though the thought of raising a child alone is equally as terrifying and isolating).
Finally, after how long Amy isn’t sure, she clambers to her feet, feeling like she might very well throw up again as she tiptoes at a snail’s pace towards the test. And then, with a gust of sudden and unexpected bravery, she swoops in and grabs all the tests, her arm seemingly acting without the permission of her brain. She stares down at the tests, her mind taking a moment to process the result, and then her face cracks, her throat releasing a single sob as she stumbles backwards, dropping the tests. They fall to the floor as she continues to back away, until her back presses against the wall and she slides down it and onto the floor.
Two lines.
Positive.
Pregnant.
Amy is pregnant.
With a deflated sigh, she lets her head fall into her hands, her body shaking all over. Her apartment suddenly feels much too cold and much too empty as her world morphs in front of her eyes into something she never expected it to be. She has so many plans, and backup plans for those plans, and backup plans for those backup plans, and this is not something she has planned for. This is not something she expected. And maybe in five years she could’ve accepted this. Or maybe if she was in a loving relationship already she could’ve accepted this. Maybe in those circumstances, she could accept an accidental pregnancy, an unplanned baby, but not here. Not now. Not when so many things are left undone and unsaid.
Her life is about to change forever, and she isn’t ready for it. A new life is about to be welcomed into the world, and she isn’t ready to be responsible for it.
Cascades of fat, hot tears blurring her vision, she crawls blindly forward, locating one of the tests after fumbling for a few seconds. She holds it out in front of her, checks the result again; still two lines. She slams it down on the floor again, wipes furiously at her eyes, and somehow pulls her suddenly much-too-heavy body up, stumbling out of the bathroom and towards the sofa.
She stays there for a while, laying on her back, the tears falling down her cheeks being immediately replaced by fresh droplets in her eyes, her chest heaving as she quietly sobs. She is sad. She is scared. She is ashamed. And she is angry. So angry. How could they be so careless? How could they let this happen?
Finally, when her tear ducts seem to have dried out, she lets out a resigned sigh and sits up. Her face is burning, and her stomach is churning, and all she can do is stare at the wall, unsure of what her next move should be. She retrieves her cell phone from her pocket and opens her contacts, her thumb hovering over Teddy’s name, her brain telling her to call him but her heart telling her to call someone else.
She isn’t sure why she does it, why she allows herself to, but suddenly she is holding the phone to her ear, listening to the rings with bated breath. The tears are back, more welling up in her eyes which by now should be entirely impossible, especially due to how heavy and dehydrated she suddenly feels.
When he picks up the phone, the line is barely silent for a second before he says her name (“Amy?”) and her breath catches in her throat.
“Jake,” she warbles, her voice sounding completely choked with tears. Her fist closes in a harsh grip around her blanket on her sofa, her fingers desperate to hold onto something, anything, just to ground herself.
“Amy? Are you crying?” He breathes, and his voice is filled with concern that would usually, in any other circumstance, cause her stomach to fill to the brim with fluttering butterflies. “What’s wrong?”
“I-” she begins, a long sob catching her off guard and stopping her from finishing her sentence. She isn’t sure what she wants to say anyway, isn’t sure why she’s calling him. He has a girlfriend. All she is to him is a dumb work partner. There isn’t any reason for her to call him right now. This isn’t his problem. “I need you.” She speaks in a strangled voice, barely above a whisper, her eyes squeezing tightly closed.
“Okay, yeah,” he says, and Amy hears immediate rustling in the background, the phone moving away from him for a second as he, presumably, pulls on his jacket. “Okay. Hang on, Ames. I’m on my way.”
She doesn’t reply, just allows the phone to fall out of her grasp, clattering to the floor as she feels the walls begin to close in on her. In the background, she can hear Jake’s voice calling for her over their call, desperately asking her if she is okay, but she can’t focus on it, the ringing in her ears becoming too much for her. With a few gasping breaths, she presses her hands over her ears, curling up into herself and falling onto her side, trying to drown out her own thoughts.
She isn’t sure how long she is laying there before she hears a knock on the door and then, a few seconds later, she feels hands on her arms, prying her hands away from her ears. Only then, with her ears clear of barriers, does she notice how loud and unsteady her breathing is, sounding almost as though she is drowning, or as though her lungs have each been punctured. She hears Jake’s voice, warm and reassuring but filled with animalistic worry, but even his comforting words aren’t enough to pull her out of his. She doesn’t just sound like she is drowning; she feels like it too, and she’s not even sure she wants Jake to pull her ashore anymore. She’s not even sure she wants to be saved.
“Amy. Ames. Breath. Please breathe, Ames. You’re hurting yourself. Please calm down.”
Now more than ever, Amy wonders how Jake can manage to sound so panicked but so calm and in control all at the same time. She feels his hands on either side of her face, and it is enough to cause her eyes to flash open, her blurred vision clearing as she stares up at Jake. His eyes are wide and worried, but everything is so hazy and far away, and all Amy can do, as scared as she is, is count the number of exaggerated breaths he takes, following suit as best as she can.
“That’s it, Ames. You’re doing great. Keep doing that.”
His encouragement is enough to calm her instantly, and she continues taking long, exaggerated breaths past when the sobbing heaves of her chest cease and the ringing in her ears stops, as does Jake. Eventually, he kneels down in front of her on the floor, pulling her into an upright position, and there he is in front of her, holding her face between his hands and teaching her how to breathe again. When he leans forward enough for his forehead to press against hers, her body relaxes fully, and her normal breathing pattern comes back instantaneously, aside from a few rare hiccups.
Jake breathes a sigh of relief, pulling his forehead away from hers and his hands away from her cheeks slowly, as if he is sceptical of the movement.
Amy moves before she has time to properly think it over, propelling herself into his arms and pressing her head against his chest. It takes a few seconds for Jake to react, but eventually he snakes his arms around her, and she feels him squeeze her tighter than anyone has ever squeezed her before. He places his chin atop her head, and she hears him let out a relieved sigh yet again, one of his hands moving to stoke the bottom of her hair and the top of her back.
“Well done, Ames,” he says, reminding her once again of all the times he gently coached her through those breathing exercises.
“Thank you, Jake,” she mumbles into his chest, her voice hoarse and wavering. “I- thank you.” She can’t put into words how grateful she is to him right now, so she doesn’t try.
“What happened?” He murmurs. “What’s wrong?” His voice is quiet, level and calm, the way it always is when Amy reacts badly to something, though she isn’t sure she’s ever had such an extreme reaction in front of him.
She sniffles and pulls her head away to look him in the eye. His big, brown eyes are wide and filled with concern, his expression soft, and Amy trusts him so much; trusts him with anything, with everything. At the sight of him, sitting on the floor of her apartment, hugging her tightly and comforting her at the drop of a hat, she is overcome with a flood of emotion, and her lip wobbles, a tear falling from her eye again.
“Hey, no. No more crying.” Jake says, his tone somehow firm and soft all at once as he reaches up and brushes the tear away. “Tell me what’s wrong, Amy.”
“Jake,” she breathes, desperately wanting to back out of telling him, suddenly overcome with the desire to dig herself a hole and live the rest of her miserable life out in it. “I’m pregnant.” The words fall from her mouth for the first time ever, feeling entirely too foreign to be true.
Jake’s face seems to fall for a moment, his comforting expression faltering just slightly before he quickly rights himself, but Amy notices the way his lips part slightly into a disappointed pout and the way his eyes seem to fill with terror and… something else?
“Oh.” He says simply, and Amy can tell he is as shocked as she is (well, almost). “Oh.” The word is more final now as she watches him work through the implication of the words in his head, his eyes narrowing just slightly. “And- and it’s-”
He never finishes his sentence, leaving the space open for Amy to fill, which she does after taking a deep, wobbly breath.
“Yeah. It’s- it’s Teddy’s.”
“Oh.” He says for the third time, and then he swallows thickly, his jaw clenching momentarily. “Okay.”
Amy feels her shoulders slump as she begins to cry again, unable to stop the tears from flowing as she registers how ashamed Jake is. “Oh, God.” She whines, her heart shattering into a million pieces. “You’re so mad at me.”
“What?” Jake says, his head snapping upright to look at her, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion. “Of course I’m not mad, Ames.” His face softens and he gives her a sympathetic smile. “Come here.” He opens his arms and Amy immediately falls back into them, grasping at his shirt with her fists.
“You sure?” She whispers, placing her cheek on his chest and taking an unsteady breath.
“Ames, I’m sure,” he replies, a quiet chuckle resonating through the air. “I’m not mad at you. And… listen, whatever you decide, I’ll be here for you. You don’t have to, you know, have the baby if you don’t want to. It’s your body.” He pauses to give her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, and she burrows impossibly closer to her. “But if you do decide to go through with the, um- the pregnancy, I’ll be here for you then, too.”
Amy relaxes slightly, glancing up at him. “You will?” She asks, her voice unsure and slightly untrusting.
“Of course.” Jake smiles softly. “We’re partners.” He pauses. “And you don’t have to decide what you want to do right now, but just know you’ll have my support either way.”
Amy feels a small smile tugging at her lips despite the circumstances and she backs out of his hug to look at him properly, the tiny smile spreading across her face.
“There it is,” Jake chuckles. “There’s that famous Amy Santiago smile.”
Amy’s giggle is thick with tears as it rings through the apartment, and she sighs, flopping back onto the sofa. Jake follows her action a moment later, his own sigh slipping from his lips as he settles down beside her.
“Does- does Teddy know yet?” Jake spits Teddy’s name as though it is venomous, and Amy tries not to think into it too much.
She shakes her head, her stomach twisting unpleasantly as she remembers the fact that, whether she likes it or not, Teddy does come into the equation and she has to include him in her plans. “No,” she replies simply.
“Are you gonna tell him?” Jake asks.
“Yeah. Just don’t know when. Or- or how.” Amy says the words quietly, numbly, and after a few seconds she feels Jake’s hand on top of her own where it sits flat on the sofa. She looks to her side as he does, their eyes meeting, and she smiles sadly at him, feeling calmer than earlier but not even slightly less devastated.
“Listen, Amy,” he says, diverting his gaze down to where their hands are touching but not retracting his, “if it’s alright with you, I, uh- I think I should stay here… tonight?” Jake looks back up at her and Amy gives him a questioning look, unsure of what he is suggesting and why he is suggesting it. “It’s just that- well, you were pretty upset earlier. I almost called an ambulance, and I don’t want that to happen again during the night, when you’re alone.”
“Jake,” Amy whispers, forcing a smile. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me, okay?” Her stubborn streak makes her want to refuse his offer so desperately. Makes her want to find her way on her own.
Jake shakes his head, and his eyes are intense when he looks back at Amy. “N-no. Ames. I-” he pauses, closing his eyes and taking a long, steady breath, as though attempting to calm himself. “I can’t just not worry. You’re- you’re my friend and…” his eyes flash open and he gives her a wide-eyed, pleading look, “please just let me sleep on the sofa. Just for tonight.”
“What about Sophia?” Amy murmurs, focusing her gaze on his hand atop hers.
“I’ll just tell her I got called in and have to work late.”
And although Amy hates the idea of Jake lying to Sophia about this, hates the idea of being a secret, she allows herself tonight. Just one night to pretend that everything is okay. Just one night to feel safe and secure before everything inevitably goes to shit tomorrow. Just one night to pretend that Jake is hers and only hers.
She curls her fingers around his hand, holding it tightly as she nods slightly. “Okay,” she agrees simply, and Jake looks like he might be about to burst into thankful tears when she collapses into him and rests her head on his chest. “Okay.”
Jake leans back and she follows him, squeezing her eyes closed and focusing on the way it feels as his chest rises and falls against her cheek. She is vaguely aware of him pulling out his phone, his arm muscles flexing as he texts someone, presumably Sophia, but she just melts further into him, and eventually his arm drapes around her shoulder and she doesn’t feel so scared anymore.
When Amy eventually drifts off to sleep, still in Jake’s arms, she has forgotten about the events of the day. About the fainting, about the throwing up, about the panic attack, about Sophia and the implications Jake staying over might have and, most comfortingly, about the foetus growing inside her stomach, threatening to ruin all of her plans and the life she has worked so hard for.
Jake’s arms feel like home, and for now, that is enough for her.