Chicago Med fic: Restitution (2/10)
PART ONE
PART TWO
PART THREE
PART FOUR
PART FIVE
PART SIX
PART SEVEN
PART EIGHT
PART NINE
PART TEN
-o-
As expected and promised, Jay was still waiting for him in the car. From this vantage point, it wasn’t clear just how much he’d seen, but Jay was a cop. Will was pretty sure he would have deduced most of it by now.
But, like a true cop, Jay wouldn’t come out and say it. Instead, he broached it like a conversation. “So?” Jay asked as he sat down in the passenger’s seat once more.
“So,” Will said, shrugging one shoulder with a half hearted effort. “She was okay.”
Jay gave a little bob of his head. “That doesn’t surprise me. She’s pretty tough.”
Will stared down the street, shaking his head. “We both lost our jobs for no reason.”
“Well, to be fair, that doesn’t surprise me either,” Jay said, a little lighter now as he started the engine. “She’s tough, but she’s not always much brighter than you. I always figured that was why you two worked so well together.”
The engine was humming now, but Jay didn’t put it into gear. Will’s gaze remained wistful down the street. “She understood why I did it -- why I covered for her.”
Jay made a face. “So?”
“So,” Will said, looking to Jay now. “I don’t understand why she did it.”
Jay raised his eyebrows. “I’m going out on a limb here but I’d guess she did it because it was the right thing to do. Because she cares about you just like you care about her.”
“But it’s her life, her family, her happiness,” Will said. “I’m just her ex from three years ago.”
“And you think your life and family and happiness are what?” Jay asked. “Completely irrelevant?”
Jay seemed to be making a point, but Will couldn’t follow it. “What are you talking about?”
Jay flattened his mouth into a line. “Well, how about this, then,” he said. “Do you regret what you’ve done?”
“About the job?”
Jay kept his gaze on Will steady. “About Natalie.”
“No,” Will said, the reflex so strong he didn’t have to think. “Natalie had way more to lose. Protecting her was the only thing I could do.”
The reflex was strong. That didn’t necessarily make it right. “Yeah, and she lost it all anyway. I mean, you throwing yourself on your sword like that -- what did it gain you?”
His cheeks were burning now, and Will wasn’t sure if he was angry or embarrassed. “It doesn’t work that way. I couldn’t knowingly let harm come to her -- I never would have forgiven myself. Whatever choice she made after that was hers. But I have to know my own lines, Jay. If I can protect her--”
“But Will,” Jay interrupted him with some force. “She’s not yours to protect anymore. I mean, it’s been, what, two years?”
It was hard to imagine just how long it had been. Especially when it still felt like yesterday sometimes. He’d moved on, she’d moved on. He’d thought he’d let go of it, but burying raw emotions didn’t make them go away. They were still there, rough and jarring, when he took time to look.
That was what he’d realized when Natalie confessed what she’d done. When all their guises had been stripped away, he’d been forced to see her for her mistakes -- and forced to reckon with his own. It hadn’t mattered, then, who had done what to who. It hadn’t mattered why. All that had mattered was that Natalie’s future was in jeopardy, and Will couldn’t bear to think of it.
“It doesn’t even matter,” Will said, hoping that Jay will understand. “Think about what we do, both of us -- serve and protect, right? You don’t ask if they deserve it. You don’t sit and dwell on jurisdiction, not when it really matters.”
Jay’s jaw tensed a little bit in denial. “This is not the same thing. Taking the fall for Natalie is not the same as treating a patient or being a cop.”
“No, it’s not,” Will agreed. “It’s more. Come on. I almost married her. I called her parents Mom and Dad. I was going to coach Owen’s little league baseball team and teach him how to drive. And that happily ever after never came to fruition, but that was still real. I will never want anything but the best for her -- for her whole family. Jay, it was her Mom. And if she admitted to what she did, I knew it would put her career at risk -- and that would put Owen at risk. I couldn’t let her do that. Not when I had another option.”
Jay was watching him, his jaw working now as he studied him. “Even if she could?”
“Especially if she could,” Will replied readily.
Jay was quiet for a moment, and he looked down the street. He nodded, glancing back at Will. “So that’s a no to regrets.”
Will looked out the window now. Here he was, justifying what he’d done. It was hard to explain how you could regret everything and nothing all at once. The choices he’d made -- he’d make a lot of them again. But that was the problem. This wasn’t just one incident. This was a series of choices all throughout his career. All the mistakes, all the miscalculations, all the misappropriation of his talent.
That was why he couldn’t go back to Med.
Not just because he’d mangled his reputation, but because it was foolish to pretend like this was just about stolen trial meds. Will had spent the last decade telling himself he had it all figured out when the truth was that he was still the same idiot he’d always been.
He’d been right to try to save Natalie.
He’d been wrong to think that he had the moral judgment to make it possible.
“I might have done a few things differently,” he admitted quietly. “But this was always going to be the end point. I think it was inevitable. Goodwin told me last fall that my career was going nowhere. I let Sabeena convince me otherwise, but none of it was real. Jay, this has been falling apart for years now. I just kept pretending like it wasn’t.”
Jay’s eyes were steady on him now. “Then what is real?”
Will looked back. He felt weary but there was something peaceful in the resignation now. “I guess that’s what I need to find out.”
-o-
Jay drove back from Natalie’s in silence. It wasn’t a tense kind of silence, but he felt that his brother wasn’t sure what he wanted to say. Will wasn’t sure he wanted to say anything at all, so it made for a quiet time between them.
Jay had been right about this much: talking to Natalie had been important. Will had needed that conversation, that bit of closure. It had solidified what he’d done. It had confirmed to him, beyond his shock and sadness, that this was over. It was time for something new.
Granted, this probably wasn’t the conclusion Jay was hoping he’d come to, but it was what it was, and Will couldn’t take it back, even if he wanted to.
Back at Jay’s place, Will made some effort to pack up his sparse supplies and look to head out. He’d imposed on Jay long enough, but his brother quickly shot down the implication. “I already took the day,” he said. “The least you can do is stay and hang out.”
“I don’t mean to be a burden,” Will said. “You do have a life.”
“And you’re part of it,” Jay said. He rooted around in his fridge and came up with some cold cuts and cheese. “Frankly, I’d feel a lot better knowing where you were right now.”
“Jay, I’m fine--”
“Will, you’re not fine,” Jay said, putting the ingredients on the table. “I’ve known you a long time, all right? And you do not tend to handle major life changes particularly well. So, before you go hook up with some random girl or move to some far off location without telling me, I’m going to keep you right here until you’ve acclimated to this situation like an adult.”
Will wanted to be offended, but it was hard to muster much up. He’d never been the one to hold grudges -- that was the way Jay and their dad had handled things -- but he’d also made a habit of quickly shirking responsibility. That was what made running so attractive. You didn’t have to face the consequences if you weren’t there.
Given that, Jay wasn’t wrong in his concern. Will had been here long enough to own up to that and take the feedback for what it was. Jay was gruff and could be an asshole about things, but it usually came from a place of actual love.
Even now, Jay cared about him enough to make sure he didn’t do something stupid.
Given how few people Will had left in his life who might take such interest, he wasn’t about to throw it away.
All the same, Jay’s definition of fine was somewhat lacking. Will wasn’t even sure what fine was at this point. He wasn’t sure he wanted it. He wasn’t sure he deserved it.
“I hear what you’re saying, but I don’t want to be in the way,” Will said. “What about Hailey?”
Jay’s relationship with Hailey was still nascent, and Will knew that not everyone knew they were together. Jay didn’t like to talk about it, even with him, but some things were not possible to hide between brothers, and Will knew the less Jay wanted to say, the more there was to talk about.
“She’s at work,” Jay said, opening up the bag of bread and extricating a few slices. He tossed the bag toward Will. “And besides, she’s cool with it.”
“So you told her?” Will asked, looking down as he retrieved two slices of bread for himself.
“It’s not something you can hide,” Jay pointed out. “But I didn’t tell her everything. Just enough, you know? So she knows you’re going through a hard time. She wants me to be there for you.”
That was a healthy and mature response, and Will felt inherently sheepish. He’d achieved healthy and mature a few times in his life, but they seemed fleetingly few and far between right now. Jay had always been a better brother than he was, and this was part of the reason why.
He couldn’t help but think that must be tiring.
His brother was assembling a sandwich by now, and Will gave him a surreptitious glance, hesitating as he asked, “And are you sure you want that?”
Jay returned his look, but there was no hesitation in his voice. “Sure about being there for you? Completely,” he said, and he did sound offended at the suggestion otherwise. “Besides, Hailey and I -- we’re slowing it down a little.”
Will reached for the meat. He’d been on the self-absorbed side the last few days -- the last few years or the last few lifetimes, honestly -- but it occurred to him for the first time since he’s showed up, depressed and pathetic on Jay’s doorstep, that his brother had things going on as well.
Not just work or a game on TV.
But things.
“Slowing it down?” he asked, trying not to be too nosy while also being completely nosy.
Jay had been nothing but to the point in facing all of Will’s many problems. However, in the face of his own, he grew decidedly more distant. He busied himself arranging the cheese on his sandwich. “Just slowing it down, you know. Taking things more carefully,” he explained with forced nonchalance. “You know, ever since she proposed.”
Will stopped what he was doing, gaping at his brother now. That detail that Jay had added in as an afterthought was kind of the lead topic, and Will was just learning about it now. “She proposed?”
Jay let his eyes barely make contact with Will’s before he shrugged as if it was no big deal. “More or less.”
Will stared while his brother grabbed the mustard. “More or less?” he asked, attempting to clarify.
“Yes, okay,” Jay said, his frustration bursting wide. “She proposed.”
The admission did nothing to quell Will’s shock. In fact, it only served to make him feel indignant. “And you’re just telling me now?”
“To be fair, you are having a little bit of a crisis,” Jay reminded him. He squirted the mustard sloppily on the top of his cheese, hastily putting the other piece of bread on top.
Will was still standing there, sandwich only partially made, grappling with this revelation. “But you got engaged.”
Jay sighed a little, as though this nuance was putting him out. “Kind of. We kind of got engaged.”
Now Will just felt bewildered. As if he hadn’t been blindsided enough over the last few days. “Kind of?”
Jay picked up his sandwich. “It’s just complicated.”
Jay meandered to the couch and sat down. Will turned, still watching him in something of disbelief. “Me covering for Natalie stealing my trial drugs to treat her mother with unapproved conditions and no medical monitoring is complicated. Getting engaged isn’t.”
Jay clearly knew Will had a point, even if he wasn’t keen to admit it. Pride was a universal Halstead trait. “Look, it was just a lot -- and it was just really sudden. We haven’t even told most people we’re together, you know?” he said. “So I told her to take some time, think about it. I didn’t want her to make a decision emotionally that she might regret when she’s more clear headed. Kind of like what I want you to do right now.”
“Oh, no,” Will said, all but abandoning his sandwich now. “You’re not turning this back on me. She proposed and you told her no?”
“I told her to think about it, just to be sure,” Jay corrected him.
Will wasn’t sure how that was somehow better. “Okay.”
He seemed to hesitate, and he looked at Will cautiously. “And I also needed time to talk to you about the ring.”
Will almost forgot that they were at the lunch table now. “The ring?”
Jay didn’t look away, but he seemed quieter when he spoke. “Mom’s ring.”
The statement was simple.
The implication was loaded.
It felt heavy in Will’s gut. “Oh,” he said, letting himself understand even as his brain sluggishly kicked into gear.
The ring. Mom’s ring. The one he’d put on Natalie’s finger. The one she’d given back.
There was pain there, but it was so muted, so nuanced that he didn’t grasp it. He didn’t deserve to feel it.
Jay was watching him, though, so he wet his lips. Stiffly, he looked back to his sandwich numbly. “Well, sure,” he said. “I mean, Mom always said.”
“I know,” Jay said. He seemed to have forgotten about the food entirely now. “But that was before you gave it to Natalie.”
“She gave it back,” Will said, as if the simple words could help him forget how that had felt. “I mean, it’s not like I’m going to give it to her again.”
Jay looked like he might be willing to debate this point. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
Will scoffed because it was the only thing he could think to do. The noise almost hurt as it was wrenched from the tightness in his throat. “Jay, just use the ring. Propose to her. Marry her.”
“But why?” Jay asked. “I mean, if it’s too hard, maybe we just let the ring skip a generation--”
“Jay,” Will said, feeling the edge so sharp that the emotions threatened to flay him. “That’s stupid. If you’re at happily ever after, then use the ring. Mom wanted it. I want it. You deserve to be happy.”
This time, Jay seemed to be unsure. “And what about you? Don’t you deserve to be happy?”
“Making you happy is about the best I can think of right now,” Will admitted, finding this much truth to be a solid thing in all the rest of his doubt. “Get the ring. Marry her.”
“Well, I’m working on it,” Jay said. He paused to take a bite and swallow hastily. “Honestly, you being here is a great buffer. Gives me time to figure things out and think. Besides, I want to keep on an eye one.”
Will threw together the last of his sandwich, but gave Jay a critical look. “An eye on me? What do you think I’m going to do? I have no job.”
“Exactly,” Jay said, swallowing down another bite. He licked some mayo off his finger. “I want to keep you around to make sure we change that.”
Will was indignant out of reflex. “I can handle my own career.”
Jay snorted lightly. “Recent activity suggests otherwise.”
The jab wasn’t intended to be mean, and Will knew his brother’s intentions were good -- even if it did smart a little. He probably deserved that. No, he definitely deserved that. “Point taken,” he said, looking down at his sandwich and taking a bite. He could barely taste it, but he chewed and swallowed anyway.
“I’m just saying we can go over the job listings,” Jay said, more diplomatically now. “It’s overwhelming when you do it on your own. But the two of us, together, can make sense of it.”
Will nodded, taking a bite tentatively while he thought. “Will you get the ring if I do?”
Jay glowered momentarily, but he nodded his assent. “Fine,” he said. “Job listings for the ring.”
“Fine,” Will agreed.
“Now, eat up,” Jay ordered. “It seems like we’ve both got a lot to do.”
-o-
Eventually, Will did manage to make his sandwich and eat. He wasn’t all that hungry, but Jay was putting in so much effort that Will felt bad about not at least trying. There was no way he was going to convince his brother that he wasn’t emotionally unstable unless he attempted to act normal.
Of course, there was still the possibility that Will was emotionally unstable, but that wasn’t something Will could do a lot about at the moment. And he didn’t feel unstable. He just felt...empty. Vacant, somehow. Like part of himself was missing. Like most of himself was missing.
After lunch, Jay did ease off for a little bit. Will suspected his brother didn’t want to talk about the situation with Hailey, but the benefit for him was the same. They watched sports and bad action movies in relative quiet, each of them willing to pretend like things might actually be okay.
In the late afternoon, Jay said he was going out for a bit. He had a few errands to run and he’d pick up dinner. Will intended to do something productive with this time alone, but it occurred to him when Jay left that he had nothing productive to do. With no job and no relationships, he couldn’t quite come up with something of worth. And everything else just seemed to fall by the wayside.
Instead, Will wandered Jay’s apartment. He’d been here before, of course. He’d been here a lot. He knew where everything in the kitchen was, and he knew where Jay kept his tools and what was in his sock drawer. But as he perused it this time, he was struck by the other things. The little things, the things he took for granted. The books on his shelf. The pictures on his wall. Evidence of a life well lived.
Will’s own apartment reflected little of that kind of thing. He’d moved around a lot more than his brother had. Even while staying in Chicago, Will had hopped from one thing to the next. He’d lived with Nina for awhile. He’d taken in roommates in desperation. He and Natalie had lived together, and Will had found a nice apartment that he’d given up during the pandemic to move in with Hannah. When that had fallen apart, he’d found his latest place as cheap and as close to the hospital as he could manage. With the stress of the pandemic, he’d not been able to move all his stuff efficiently. Most if it was still in storage all these months later.
There were no mementos. There were no keepsakes.
All these years, and Will had little evidence that he’d done anything meaningful or been meaningful to anyone.
Nearly ten years of his life, and what did Will have to show for it? What did Will have to show for anything in his life? A trail of mistakes and half-finished promises? A line of broken hearts and unfulfilled potential?
Will had been fired just a few days ago, but this reckoning had been a long time coming.
To make matters worse, when Jay came back with some food, he also came back bearing newspapers.
Actual newspapers.
Will hadn’t realized that many were still actually in print.
He threw them at Will while he laid out the spread of takeout.
“What are these for?” Will asked, wondering how it was possible that this many newspapers were still in print.
“Job listings,” Jay said.
The words landed hard, and Will wasn’t sure if he felt shock, trepidation or anger. Part of him wanted to push the papers aside. Another part of him wanted to read them. Mostly, though, he was struck with an irrational desire to burn them and then throw them out the window.
Instead of acting on any of those very bad impulses, Will just sat there. He thought maybe that was a sign of progress, an indication that he did not have to give in to every wayward impulse that he had.
Yes, he was going for a low bar. At the moment, he thought that was acceptable.
“Job listings?” he asked finally, well aware that his voice made a funny, squeaky sort of sound.
“Job listings,” Jay said. He rummaged through a drawer and came up with a few eating utensils. “You know. What you look at when you don’t have a job.”
Will stared at him another moment, wishing that the Chinese food on the table came with fewer strings attached.
Jay sat down in the chair, opening the first box. He looked at Will, still sitting on the couch, the pile of papers on his lap. “You’re not going to make this hard, are you?”
Will looked at the papers.
He looked at his brother.
He’d refused his job back because actions had consequences. Consequences you hated; consequences Will deserved.
“No,” he said finally, picking up the papers and joining his brother at the table. “I’m not going to make this hard at all.”
-o-
Will wasn’t sure what he disliked more: eating Chinese food when he wasn’t hungry or looking for jobs when all he wanted to do was stop existing. Unfortunately for him, his brother was his only refuge, and Jay wasn’t going to allow him to starve or sit like a depressed bump on a very depressing log.
So, Will shoveled Chinese food into his mouth that he could barely taste and started flipping through the openings. Jay tried to bring some up online, too, but he had no idea where to start looking. Will pointed him in a few directions, and thus the inevitable job search began.
Jay, naturally, was much more optimistic than Will was. Every position sounded like a good one to him. “Hey,” he said, pointing at the screen where he was browsing a professional job board. “They’re hiring at East Mercy.”
“I can’t work at East Mercy,” Will said, skimming over the rest of the entries in the paper with lackluster enthusiasm.
“Sure you can,” Jay said. “They need an ED doc; you’re an ED doc.”
“With a terrible reputation,” Will reminded him.
“So you’ll fit right in,” Jay countered. “Everyone avoids East Mercy.”
“Are you trying to make me feel better or worse?” Will asked.
“I’m trying to be practical,” Jay said. “I mean, if you don’t like East Mercy, then what if we look outside an ED. I mean, there’s urgent cares, private practice--”
“I have no experience--”
“You’re an ED doc in the best ED in the city--”
“Was--”
Jay put the tablet down in a fit of frustration. “Do you even want a job? Or are you looking to sleep on my couch permanently?”
That wasn’t as hypothetical as Will would have liked to think it was. His malpractice premiums had fallen over the years, but he still had a pile of debt from medical school. He was going to be paying it off until he was 50 even with meaningful employment. Without a steady paycheck, he wouldn’t be able to afford his place after two months.
Fiscal responsibility -- was another Halstead trait that had gone exclusively to his brother.
Though, to be fair, putting yourself all the way through medical school without a dime of support from your parents was no small task.
Will reached for the paper, looking it over skeptically. “I don’t know,” he said. “I mean, who even publishes things in the want ads anymore?”
“What? They advertise for doctors on Craigslist?” Jay asked caustically. “I don’t know, man. Beggars can’t be choosers.”
Will remained unconvinced. He didn’t actually think he was above these jobs -- maybe it was the opposite. Maybe he didn’t think he deserved anything within the state of Chicago with his background being what it was.
“Come on,” Jay cajoled. “All you have to do is apply. To one job. Two jobs. Any job.”
Shaking his head, Will pushed the paper away again. “I don’t know. I mean, what if I look for jobs outside Chicago?”
Jay made a little face. “Like in the suburbs?”
Jay was bright and quick witted, but he was slow on the uptake this time. “Like not Chicago.”
He said it plain enough, and Jay’s face went a little slack at the sudden understanding. “Oh.”
Will felt a momentary pang of guilt. He wasn’t trying to hurt his brother -- just the opposite. He was trying to make this right by everyone in his life. “It’s just -- I do have other connections,” he said, trying to sound conciliatory. “I burned a lot of bridges in New York, but not all of them. I have some friends there still.”
That only made Jay look paler. “You want to go back to New York?”
Jay was taking the suggestion about as well as Will might have suspected. Will eased back in his seat, trying to make himself less imposing. He could do diplomatic better than his brother. He just hoped he could do it when it counted. “I don’t want to go back to New York. I’m just saying it’s an option,” he said. “A good option. A chance to really make a fresh start.”
Jay’s face screwed up. He sat forward again with a scowl. “You don’t need to move across teh country for a fresh start,” he said. “A new job: a bam, there you go.”
Wetting his lips, Will was tentative to disagree with his brother. “It’s not that easy.”
With a huff of frustration, Jay widened his hands. “And it’s not that hard,” he said. “Seriously, Will, you don’t have to run away.”
“No, I don’t, but I do need a job,” he said. “And I’m not sure that job is at East Mercy or an urgent care clinic. I don’t even know if it’s here. I need to figure this out, Jay. I’m not trying to hurt you, I swear, and no one is running this time. I’m just -- trying to figure things out.”
It wasn’t the most eloquent explanation, but it was simple enough that Jay could find no fault in it. He shifted uncomfortably and sighed heavily. Angrily, he picked up his fork and poked at his food viciously until he’d speared a piece of chicken. “Whatever,” he muttered. He glared at Will over his food. “Go off, look off, look for yourself, whatever the hell you need. But you mark this: you belong in Chicago. When this is all said and done, you’ll be right back here where you should be.”
Will gathered a forkful of his own and finally found relief enough to smile. “I guess we’ll find out.”
-o-
To say he was motivated was a bit of an overstatement. In truth, Will mostly wanted to still curl up on Jay’s couch, wear his pajamas and drink alcohol until his brother grew tired of him and kicked him out. That wasn’t a solution, however. He’d forfeited his right to want anything the second he’d let his career spectacularly crash and burn.
This was on him, then. Rebuilding his career -- rebuilding himself -- bit by painful bit.
And it started with a job.
Having eschewed all of Jay’s options in the greater Chicago area, Will made good on his word and hit up his contacts in New York. This had taken most of the next morning, which Jay had mercifully gone to work for. Will called contact by contact, scrawling notes on a piece of paper about what each contact might have to offer. It felt a little forced -- trying to leverage friendships that had not been active for years. With most of these people, he’d exchanged nothing more than pleasantries over the last decade. And here he was, freshly fired and asking for favors.
Still, he knew that being responsible couldn’t be synonymous with doing nothing. No matter what his failures in Chicago had been -- and they had been plentiful -- he was still a doctor. There was no way around fixing this situation other than that.
Surprisingly, everyone was happy to hear from him, and when he asked about job openings, there were several positive suggestions. One was in the ED where he’d once worked in med school. Another was at a private practice with an old drinking buddy of his. Despite his spotty record, both of these jobs were viable leads. Hell, they would probably pay better than his job at Med -- and he could rebuild his career without missing a beat.
Not a single beat.
This week of miserable unemployment would be a blip.
Quickly forgotten and overlooked.
An insignificant, negligible gap on his resume.
There was no reason, then, why it just felt so wrong.
Except, there was every reason.
This wasn’t a blip. This wasn’t negligible.
Will had made a mistake.
Will needed to learn from that mistake.
He couldn’t do that if he kept landing on his feet like a cat with never ending lives.
This one needed to hurt.
This one needed to count.
This one -- couldn’t be in New York any more than it could be in Chicago.
Feeling restless, Will scrolled through his phone contact list and wiggled his toes. He lingered on one last contact. All he had to do was make one last call.
And he might finally finish what he started.
-o-
He made himself eat lunch, if only because he knew Jay would notice if the leftovers were still in the fridge. He ate most of it but didn’t taste most of it. He didn’t know how to focus on the little things, much less find joy or purpose in them. He just had to get through one minute at a time, one hour at a time, one day at a time.
But those minutes kept leading him back to the inevitable reality that he had to do something. The emptiness of Will’s life stretched before him bleakly, and while he felt like that was probably what he deserved, it wasn’t what Jay deserved.
He just didn’t know what it had to be so hard. Will had gotten through medical school all on his own. He’d had no support, no backup. But here he was: falling apart.
No, here he was: already in pieces.
Feeling frustrated with himself, he decided to get out of the apartment. He knew Jay’s neighborhood better than he knew his own at this point. While he’d moved from flat to flat, Jay had stayed steady. Will had never thought of that as an asset before, but as he wandered the familiar streets, he was beginning to see the appeal.
A live well lived was a live well connected. There was accountability in stability, and Will had never been great with either.
Jay had built his career. He had built a future. Professionally, sure, but personally, too.
And what was Will doing?
Will was lying about trial drugs, and ruining the careers of people he cared about. He was damaging the hospital he claimed to love, and he was throwing the future of his colleagues into the wind because he thought he knew better.
Because he thought he was saving a life.
But Natalie’s mother had needed the heart transplant anyway.
Natalie had owned up to her mistakes.
And what was Will doing?
Starting things he didn’t know how to finish. Starting things he didn’t want to finish. Starting things he had no way of finishing.
It was why Jay was the better brother -- always.
It was why Will was still picking up the pieces when everyone else was moving on.
He had to go back -- not to Med, but to the start. He couldn’t make things right with his parents -- both were dead and buried. And he and Jay were on good terms, despite all of Will’s screw ups. No, Will had to go back to the start of his career. He had to get it all back.
Not Chicago.
Not New York.
He had to start earlier.
Not the first mistake, but the first mistake he could still fix.
Then he could be the brother Jay deserved.
Then he could be the doctor he’d tried to be.
Then he could be the man he wanted to be.
-o-
Back at Jay’s place, he took out his phone. No matter how many times he circled back, he still struggled to make the call. He checked his texts instead, and he didn’t know what to make of them. He had nearly two dozen, all from friends and colleagues at Med. April asking what happened. Dr. Charles telling him to call sometime. Maggie sent the most, pinging him nearly hourly with exhortations that demanded some kind of reply or else.
Most of the messages he couldn’t even bring himself to read fully, much less reply. He made an exception for Maggie, if only because he was pretty sure he didn’t want to find out what or else might mean.
He told her he was fine.
She didn’t need to worry, he was figuring things out and he was just fine.
It didn’t feel good to lie to Maggie, of course, but Will didn’t know what else to do.
As for the rest of the afternoon, Will found he couldn’t account for it. He would walk around Jay’s apartment blindly and then sit down to think. Each time, time would slip by, and he would come back to his senses with his phone still in his hand and no move made.
Once or twice, he sat down on the couch and cried, hot, overwhelming tears that he had no right to. He squeezed the emotions shut and reprimanded himself, picking up the phone and trying again.
Finally, with Jay due home in an hour, Will looked at the contact list. He was out of time as much as he was out of options. Starting over required a lot of things, but mostly it required you to start.
Will made the call, listening to it ring. For a beautiful moment, he thought maybe no one would answer. Maybe the number was out of date. Maybe the timezones didn’t work out. Maybe he wouldn’t have to do this after all.
Will’s days of luck, however, were long over.
The line was picked up after four rings. “Hello? Adam Goshit speaking.”
Adam sounded exactly the same. From the greeting, it was like no time had passed, and Will felt like he was still the young doctor on an aggressive trauma surgery fellowship. He could have picked any number of jobs, but he’d picked this one. He’d picked Africa.
Adam had been one of the other fellows, and while most of their fellow candidates had flamed out within weeks or months, he and Adam had made it through the first six months by one another’s sides. They’d found solidarity there, similar in their passion and creativity as doctors.
They’d been fast and easy friends, and Will could still remember the good times they’d had together in and out of the hospitals. They’d been like brothers, once.
But then Will had gone and done something very Will like. He’d left behind Adam along with the rest of his fellowship and all the plans he’d made as a trauma surgeon on the front lines.
This was a mistake.
“Hello?” Adam said again, sounding a little vexed now.
“Hi,” Will said finally, too embarrassed to just hang up. He forced himself to speak. “Hi, Adam.”
“Ah!” Adam said, sounding suddenly enthusiastic. “It is you! I thought my caller ID was a lie!”
So Adam hadn’t deleted Will’s contact and tried to scrub him from his life after his ungraceful exit. Even on the phone, Will’s shame was too much. He felt his cheeks redden.
“Yeah, it’s me,” Will said, for the lack of something better to say. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “It’s been awhile.”
“A while!” Adam said. “Halstead, it has been more than 10 years!”
The thought of it was somehow overwhelming. It was too long -- and not long enough. When Will didn’t so much burn his bridges in the past; he just abandoned them. Going back made him question the structural integrity, but it was too late to turn back now.
Besides, he had nowhere else to go. Med wasn’t an option. He couldn’t stay in Chicago. He wasn’t about to go back to New York. In short, calling Adam was about the only option left.
“A long time, for sure,” Will said meekly.
“Too long!” Adam said, still sounding oddly enthusiastic. Will had left Africa in a rush without saying goodbye. He’d been making a point to avoid a lot of things -- and a lot of people. Adam more than most of the rest, so the fact that Adam was greeting him like a long lost friend was curious. “How are you?”
“Oh, I -- I’m okay,” Will said, for the lack of something better to say. “I, um. What are you up to? Still in Africa?”
“I am still with the organization, yes,” Adam said, and he sounded proud. “I have been promoted! I manage my own ED now. They keep trying to get me to take on a hospital as Chief of Staff, but I do not want it. I do not want it at all!”
Will chuckled despite himself. His own issues aside, it was easy to remember why he’d gotten along so well with Adam. “You’d be good as a hospital administrator.”
Adam scoffed loudly. “You insult me!” he said. “I know they will get me someday, but I am doing my best to hold out. Stay strong. But you actually have caught me on sabbatical. I’m at the end of a three month holdover. I spent some time in Europe, but I thought I’d see your United States, get some extra training. I am in New York for the next few days, no more.”
“Oh, hey, look at you,” Will said. “You have grown up, then. I never could convince you there was a world outside of Africa.”
“It is my home, Halstead!” Adam objected loudly. “I have never needed or wanted more. I will be going back soon. But what about you? You went to New York?”
“I left New York a long time ago,” Will said. “Ended up back home in Chicago.”
“See, we are both home boys at heart,” Adam said. “I know how it is. I do.”
“Well, that’s actually the reason I’m calling,” Will said, venturing carefully as he saw his opening. “I’m thinking of leaving Chicago again.”
“Oh? Still restless, Halstead?” Adam said with a sardonic tone.
“Maybe. Or just needing a change. I was wondering if you knew of any openings,” Will said. “You said you still work with the organization, right?”
“I am,” Adam said. His accent was less heavy these days; clearly, he’d improved his English. “I mean, much has changed since you left -- lots of people, they come and go. But it is like family to me now.”
“Well, I’m open for anything,” Will said. “Any position, any level: you name it.”
Adam was quiet for a moment. When he spoke, he sounded surprised. “I thought you had bigger and better things on the horizon. I never thought I would see you again, my friend. You always dreamed big.”
“And now I’m looking to live small,” Will said. He drew a breath, and let it out. He couldn’t move forward without acknowledging the past -- all aspects of it. “And I won’t lie to you. This job search isn’t just my choice. I’ve run into a few difficulties.”
Adam snorted over the phone. “A few difficulties? Somehow I feel like that is a euphemism. Do you still hate the reality of medical ethics?”
“And my bosses still hate when I do,” Will confirmed, lips twisting ruefully. “I’ve burned most of my bridges in Chicago, if you’re looking for references--”
Adam scoffed. “Fired?”
“I technically quit,” Will said.
“Ah,” Adam mused. He was clearly smiling. “You didn’t kill anyone, did you?”
“No--”
“And your license is still intact?” Adam asked.
“Yes,” Will said. “I mean, I can explain it all better--”
Adam made a small, dismissive noise. “Medical ethics are great in your fancy hospitals and private practices,” he said. “What I do, such ethics can be a luxury. We need good surgeons and hard workers. Can you promise me that you are not going to make me regret this?”
“Adam, I’ll do anything, best behavior, you have my word,” Will pledged.
“Well!” Adam said, enthusiastic once again. “It would be fun to get the gang back together! Gather your resume, and submit it to me by tomorrow. If you can find one reference that doesn’t hate you, send that as well and I will talk to my boss.”
The suddenness and the openness of Adam’s offer was more than a little bit of a surprise. Will had not left Africa under the best of terms. In fact, he’d left without notifying Adam until after he was out of the country. “Great,” he said, genuinely surprised. “Thank you.”
“Do not thank me just yet,” Adam warned him. “The postings we have open are not prestigious--”
“That’s fine--”
“And they are immediate,” Adam continued. “You would need to be ready to start your tour next week.”
The shortened timeline was not something Will had anticipated. He’d only lost his job at Med a few days ago. He still hadn’t said goodbye to most of his coworkers. “A week?”
Adam chuckled over the line. “You got something better to do, Halstead?”
And that was the question, then. A question Will finally had a real answer to. “You know,” he said slowly, nodding his head with renewed certainty. “As a matter of fact, I don’t.”
“There it is, my friend!” Adam said, sounding congratulatory. “You still have my email?”
“If it hasn’t changed--”
“Send, send, then,” Adam said readily. “I look forward to finishing what we started together.”
And that, more than anything else that had happened to him in the last week, sounded about right.
-o-
So, Will had found a job. He’d found it on his terms, and he’d found it quickly. It was the job he knew he wanted right now -- the job that would serve the best purpose for himself and his career.
That was the good news.
The bad news was that now he had to tell Jay.
On the one hand, Jay would be pleased that he got a job. He knew that Jay’s primary concern in all of this was that Will would completely flail and fall apart. Which, he had, for about a week, but here he was. With a likely offer of gainful employment. He’d have a job, which was the inherently responsible thing he had to address at this exact moment in time.
Salvaging his reputation in Chicago wasn’t doable. Rebuilding it overseas, however?
Well, it had definite appeal and practical implications. He could do this. He didn’t doubt it for a moment. He’d cut ties and restarted several times in his life. There was no reason to think he couldn’t pull it off again.
Which of course, brought him to the other hand. Jay would be pissed as hell that he was ditching Chicago for something as far removed as Africa. He wouldn’t see it as a challenge; he would see it as running away. He wouldn’t see it as a fresh start; he would see it as quitting.
And maybe Jay had a point. When he first went to Africa, he’d been in his 20s and fresh out of medical school. He’d been desperate for a way to prove himself, and he’d been brimming with confidence. Of course, he’d also been desperate to get as far away from home as possible. He hadn’t wanted to stay in contact back then. Not even a little.
Things were different now.
He liked to think he was different now, but the current evidence wasn’t exactly in his favor.
Chicago had been his home for a long time now. Honestly, before last week, he’d thought of it as his future. He’d grown up here -- not just in Canaryville, but at Med. He’d found stability and consistency. He’d learned to be a better doctor, a better person. For awhile, he’d made friends. He fallen in love. He’d made peace with his family.
He’d spent the better part of a decade building all that.
And he’d managed to rip it apart in a week.
The job was over. His reputation was in shreds. All his relationships had imploded.
The thing was, though, Jay couldn’t see what Will could see. Because Jay would be pissed as hell, and he’d be disappointed, but he’d be wrong. See, Jay didn’t need him. When he’d left before, he’d told himself that, but it was true now. Jay didn’t need him, hanging around like a dead weight as he nursed his career back to health at the local urgent care. Jay didn’t need Will showing up when he was depressed and drunk after another snafu.
What Will knew that Jay refused to admit was that Jay was better off without him. Everyone here was. The hospital -- wouldn’t miss him. Goodwin, despite her offer, would be relieved to be rid of him. His colleagues might have wondered about him for a day, but Ethan had the ED moving in a new direction.
No matter what Will thought he needed or didn’t need, he knew for a fact that his brother needed to move on. Jay needed to let go. He needed to focus on his job for awhile, not to mention his relationship with Hailey. That one was the real thing, and Will knew it. Jay was the only family he had left, and at this point, he was the only Halstead with a chance at happiness -- a future.
Will couldn’t hold him back
He wouldn’t.
Africa was the right choice for Will.
And it was the right choice for Jay -- even if he was pretty sure Jay wouldn’t see it that way.
-o-
Will didn’t dwell on it any longer. Before he could talk himself out of it, he submitted his resume to Adam and sat back with uncertain relief.
It was done, then.
It was actually done.
Now came the hard part, of course: following through.
-o-
The next thing was to tell Jay.
Except Will didn’t know how.
How did you tell your brother that you were moving to Africa? How did you tell the guy who had picked you up off the ground that you were leaving him -- again? Jay didn’t handle that sort of thing particularly well, and he definitely took it personally. To say that the thought made Will anxious would be an understatement.
He intended to tell Jay quickly -- like pulling off a bandaid -- but he promptly lost his nerve the second his brother walked back through the door.
He’d made dinner in an attempt to soften the blow, but instead of broaching the topic, he let Jay prattle on about his day instead. It seemed to be a venture Jay enjoyed -- either that, or he thought that Will needed the conversation to snap him out of his funk.
Either way, Jay didn’t need much actual conversational feedback to keep going, and Will had finished his dinner long before his brother had even taken a few bites.
“Oh, hey,” Jay said, snapping his fingers and pointing at Will. “I meant to tell you earlier. I ran into Maggie today.”
Will stopped chewing and looked at his brother. “Maggie?”
“Yeah,” Jay said with a shrug of affectation. “I had a thing a Med today. She was there.”
Now, Jay did have things at Med, so that wasn’t a totally implausible scenario. However, Will had already listened to the rest of Jay’s day in great detail. His brother was on a murder case -- with no survivors, no witnesses and currently no leads or suspects. There was exactly no part of such an investigation that would naturally be a thing at Med.
In other words, his brother had gone to Med looking for Maggie.
Jay wouldn’t say it, and Will didn’t have the heart to contradict him. Instead, he reached for his beer. “Oh,” he said noncommittally.
Jay didn’t seem to notice Will’s reticence. He swallowed down another bite. “She said she misses you.”
Will put down his drink again, having swallowed his own sip. “Well, she would say that.”
He wasn’t trying to be snarky, but it sort of came out that way. Jay rolled his eyes a little. “Come on, man. She meant it.”
Will picked up his napkin and wiped his fingers for something to do. “That’s sweet of her, it is. I miss Maggie, too.”
Will was hoping that was that, but he wasn’t exactly having a lucky streak -- and his brother could be relentless like a dog with a bone. It made him a good cop and generally a pretty good brother.
And it made him impossible to put off.
“Look, I know you think that bridge is burned at Med--” Jay started.
Will could already feel the pressure in his chest tightened again. “It is, Jay.”
Jay was undeterred. “But literally everyone asked about you,” he said. “I mean, everyone. Even people I didn’t know. People I didn’t think you even liked. They all wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Jay let that point sink in before he cocked his head and went for the clincher.
“They wanted to know why you weren’t coming back,” Jay told him.
Because of course Will needed more reasons to second guess what he already knew. He’d made up his mind. He’d made a commitment, and he was trying to stick to it -- and here Jay was, trying to undermine his good intentions and take the easy way out.
Will couldn’t.
He couldn’t.
And Jay was so scared of letting Will go that he couldn’t see it.
“I’ve told you why,” Will said, slowly and evenly. “I did a stupid thing -- I did something wrong. I mean, people will say anything, but when you get down to the medical ethics, it’s not something you can just overlook.”
“Except you can,” Jay said. “This wasn’t just lip service. They know what you did, and they don’t care nearly as much as you think they do. Hell, Maggie thought you were a damned saint for trying to take that fall for Natalie. I think some of them would have done the same.”
Will shook his head, exasperated. “No, they wouldn't have.”
“That Crockett guy would have,” Jay said. He sat back, crossing his arms over his chest as if bringing up Natalie’s ex-boyfriend might prove a point.
“Jay--”
“Will--”
Will sat forward, putting his forearms on the table to look at Jay and make him understand. “I know what you’re trying to do, and I get it, I do. It’s actually kind of sweet, but I can’t keep doing this. What I’m trying to do is hard enough as it is.”
It was an appeal to his brother’s softer side, which Will knew his brother had despite any efforts he made to downplay it. The fact that Will was the last of Jay’s family certainly made this harder in some respects. In others, it would invariably make it easier.
“Okay, okay, fine,” Jay said, willfully relenting at last. He sat back, clearly off his not-so-subtle offensive. He glanced around before nodding at the papers Will had left scattered across the coffee table in the living room. Will’s laptop was still open, even though it had gone to sleep. “How’s the job hunt?”
It was enough of a concession to count, and Will wanted to be grateful. Except that truth was an even harder pill to try to get his brother to swallow.
“Ah, a few things I’m working on,” Will said vaguely. He could feel his face redden as he looked down at his empty plate, wishing he still had something to pick at to make this less awkward.
He was being stupid, and he knew it. This was his chance, after all. It was such an easy invitation to come clean and tell Jay the truth.
The problem was that Jay was still finding reasons to stop by Med on his behalf. Will had come to horrible terms with the situation he’d created for himself. Clearly, his brother had not.
If Will told him that he’d been talking to Adam, that he was thinking about going back to Africa--
Well, Jay wasn’t ready for that.
And Will didn’t trust himself to tell him.
Not until the job offer was in hand.
Not until the whole thing was a done deal.
Otherwise, he might lose his nerve altogether.
Fortunately, it was enough to satisfy Jay for now. “That’s something, at least,” he said. Then, he slipped back into supportive brother mode. “I thought we’d take a break tonight, though. Stop with all the job crap.”
Will sat back, feeling relieved. “I’d like that, actually. What did you have in mind?”
Jay started shoveling food into his mouth again. “PlayStation?” he suggested, taking a quick swig of beer. “Break out The Show.”
“Oh, baseball,” Will said, tidying up his plate to clear it. The idea of having fun was oddly foreign to him, but the idea of not having to tell Jay the truth -- yet -- was more than appealing to help Will overcome that trepidation. “I may be a little rusty.”
Jay snorted, grinning a bit now. “So that’ll be your excuse when I kick your ass tonight?”
Will got up, taking his plate to the sink. “We’ll see who's ass gets kicked.”
Jay took a huge bite, getting up after Will to put his plate away. “You’re on, bro. You’re on.”
PART TWO
PART THREE
PART FOUR
PART FIVE
PART SIX
PART SEVEN
PART EIGHT
PART NINE
PART TEN
-o-
As expected and promised, Jay was still waiting for him in the car. From this vantage point, it wasn’t clear just how much he’d seen, but Jay was a cop. Will was pretty sure he would have deduced most of it by now.
But, like a true cop, Jay wouldn’t come out and say it. Instead, he broached it like a conversation. “So?” Jay asked as he sat down in the passenger’s seat once more.
“So,” Will said, shrugging one shoulder with a half hearted effort. “She was okay.”
Jay gave a little bob of his head. “That doesn’t surprise me. She’s pretty tough.”
Will stared down the street, shaking his head. “We both lost our jobs for no reason.”
“Well, to be fair, that doesn’t surprise me either,” Jay said, a little lighter now as he started the engine. “She’s tough, but she’s not always much brighter than you. I always figured that was why you two worked so well together.”
The engine was humming now, but Jay didn’t put it into gear. Will’s gaze remained wistful down the street. “She understood why I did it -- why I covered for her.”
Jay made a face. “So?”
“So,” Will said, looking to Jay now. “I don’t understand why she did it.”
Jay raised his eyebrows. “I’m going out on a limb here but I’d guess she did it because it was the right thing to do. Because she cares about you just like you care about her.”
“But it’s her life, her family, her happiness,” Will said. “I’m just her ex from three years ago.”
“And you think your life and family and happiness are what?” Jay asked. “Completely irrelevant?”
Jay seemed to be making a point, but Will couldn’t follow it. “What are you talking about?”
Jay flattened his mouth into a line. “Well, how about this, then,” he said. “Do you regret what you’ve done?”
“About the job?”
Jay kept his gaze on Will steady. “About Natalie.”
“No,” Will said, the reflex so strong he didn’t have to think. “Natalie had way more to lose. Protecting her was the only thing I could do.”
The reflex was strong. That didn’t necessarily make it right. “Yeah, and she lost it all anyway. I mean, you throwing yourself on your sword like that -- what did it gain you?”
His cheeks were burning now, and Will wasn’t sure if he was angry or embarrassed. “It doesn’t work that way. I couldn’t knowingly let harm come to her -- I never would have forgiven myself. Whatever choice she made after that was hers. But I have to know my own lines, Jay. If I can protect her--”
“But Will,” Jay interrupted him with some force. “She’s not yours to protect anymore. I mean, it’s been, what, two years?”
It was hard to imagine just how long it had been. Especially when it still felt like yesterday sometimes. He’d moved on, she’d moved on. He’d thought he’d let go of it, but burying raw emotions didn’t make them go away. They were still there, rough and jarring, when he took time to look.
That was what he’d realized when Natalie confessed what she’d done. When all their guises had been stripped away, he’d been forced to see her for her mistakes -- and forced to reckon with his own. It hadn’t mattered, then, who had done what to who. It hadn’t mattered why. All that had mattered was that Natalie’s future was in jeopardy, and Will couldn’t bear to think of it.
“It doesn’t even matter,” Will said, hoping that Jay will understand. “Think about what we do, both of us -- serve and protect, right? You don’t ask if they deserve it. You don’t sit and dwell on jurisdiction, not when it really matters.”
Jay’s jaw tensed a little bit in denial. “This is not the same thing. Taking the fall for Natalie is not the same as treating a patient or being a cop.”
“No, it’s not,” Will agreed. “It’s more. Come on. I almost married her. I called her parents Mom and Dad. I was going to coach Owen’s little league baseball team and teach him how to drive. And that happily ever after never came to fruition, but that was still real. I will never want anything but the best for her -- for her whole family. Jay, it was her Mom. And if she admitted to what she did, I knew it would put her career at risk -- and that would put Owen at risk. I couldn’t let her do that. Not when I had another option.”
Jay was watching him, his jaw working now as he studied him. “Even if she could?”
“Especially if she could,” Will replied readily.
Jay was quiet for a moment, and he looked down the street. He nodded, glancing back at Will. “So that’s a no to regrets.”
Will looked out the window now. Here he was, justifying what he’d done. It was hard to explain how you could regret everything and nothing all at once. The choices he’d made -- he’d make a lot of them again. But that was the problem. This wasn’t just one incident. This was a series of choices all throughout his career. All the mistakes, all the miscalculations, all the misappropriation of his talent.
That was why he couldn’t go back to Med.
Not just because he’d mangled his reputation, but because it was foolish to pretend like this was just about stolen trial meds. Will had spent the last decade telling himself he had it all figured out when the truth was that he was still the same idiot he’d always been.
He’d been right to try to save Natalie.
He’d been wrong to think that he had the moral judgment to make it possible.
“I might have done a few things differently,” he admitted quietly. “But this was always going to be the end point. I think it was inevitable. Goodwin told me last fall that my career was going nowhere. I let Sabeena convince me otherwise, but none of it was real. Jay, this has been falling apart for years now. I just kept pretending like it wasn’t.”
Jay’s eyes were steady on him now. “Then what is real?”
Will looked back. He felt weary but there was something peaceful in the resignation now. “I guess that’s what I need to find out.”
-o-
Jay drove back from Natalie’s in silence. It wasn’t a tense kind of silence, but he felt that his brother wasn’t sure what he wanted to say. Will wasn’t sure he wanted to say anything at all, so it made for a quiet time between them.
Jay had been right about this much: talking to Natalie had been important. Will had needed that conversation, that bit of closure. It had solidified what he’d done. It had confirmed to him, beyond his shock and sadness, that this was over. It was time for something new.
Granted, this probably wasn’t the conclusion Jay was hoping he’d come to, but it was what it was, and Will couldn’t take it back, even if he wanted to.
Back at Jay’s place, Will made some effort to pack up his sparse supplies and look to head out. He’d imposed on Jay long enough, but his brother quickly shot down the implication. “I already took the day,” he said. “The least you can do is stay and hang out.”
“I don’t mean to be a burden,” Will said. “You do have a life.”
“And you’re part of it,” Jay said. He rooted around in his fridge and came up with some cold cuts and cheese. “Frankly, I’d feel a lot better knowing where you were right now.”
“Jay, I’m fine--”
“Will, you’re not fine,” Jay said, putting the ingredients on the table. “I’ve known you a long time, all right? And you do not tend to handle major life changes particularly well. So, before you go hook up with some random girl or move to some far off location without telling me, I’m going to keep you right here until you’ve acclimated to this situation like an adult.”
Will wanted to be offended, but it was hard to muster much up. He’d never been the one to hold grudges -- that was the way Jay and their dad had handled things -- but he’d also made a habit of quickly shirking responsibility. That was what made running so attractive. You didn’t have to face the consequences if you weren’t there.
Given that, Jay wasn’t wrong in his concern. Will had been here long enough to own up to that and take the feedback for what it was. Jay was gruff and could be an asshole about things, but it usually came from a place of actual love.
Even now, Jay cared about him enough to make sure he didn’t do something stupid.
Given how few people Will had left in his life who might take such interest, he wasn’t about to throw it away.
All the same, Jay’s definition of fine was somewhat lacking. Will wasn’t even sure what fine was at this point. He wasn’t sure he wanted it. He wasn’t sure he deserved it.
“I hear what you’re saying, but I don’t want to be in the way,” Will said. “What about Hailey?”
Jay’s relationship with Hailey was still nascent, and Will knew that not everyone knew they were together. Jay didn’t like to talk about it, even with him, but some things were not possible to hide between brothers, and Will knew the less Jay wanted to say, the more there was to talk about.
“She’s at work,” Jay said, opening up the bag of bread and extricating a few slices. He tossed the bag toward Will. “And besides, she’s cool with it.”
“So you told her?” Will asked, looking down as he retrieved two slices of bread for himself.
“It’s not something you can hide,” Jay pointed out. “But I didn’t tell her everything. Just enough, you know? So she knows you’re going through a hard time. She wants me to be there for you.”
That was a healthy and mature response, and Will felt inherently sheepish. He’d achieved healthy and mature a few times in his life, but they seemed fleetingly few and far between right now. Jay had always been a better brother than he was, and this was part of the reason why.
He couldn’t help but think that must be tiring.
His brother was assembling a sandwich by now, and Will gave him a surreptitious glance, hesitating as he asked, “And are you sure you want that?”
Jay returned his look, but there was no hesitation in his voice. “Sure about being there for you? Completely,” he said, and he did sound offended at the suggestion otherwise. “Besides, Hailey and I -- we’re slowing it down a little.”
Will reached for the meat. He’d been on the self-absorbed side the last few days -- the last few years or the last few lifetimes, honestly -- but it occurred to him for the first time since he’s showed up, depressed and pathetic on Jay’s doorstep, that his brother had things going on as well.
Not just work or a game on TV.
But things.
“Slowing it down?” he asked, trying not to be too nosy while also being completely nosy.
Jay had been nothing but to the point in facing all of Will’s many problems. However, in the face of his own, he grew decidedly more distant. He busied himself arranging the cheese on his sandwich. “Just slowing it down, you know. Taking things more carefully,” he explained with forced nonchalance. “You know, ever since she proposed.”
Will stopped what he was doing, gaping at his brother now. That detail that Jay had added in as an afterthought was kind of the lead topic, and Will was just learning about it now. “She proposed?”
Jay let his eyes barely make contact with Will’s before he shrugged as if it was no big deal. “More or less.”
Will stared while his brother grabbed the mustard. “More or less?” he asked, attempting to clarify.
“Yes, okay,” Jay said, his frustration bursting wide. “She proposed.”
The admission did nothing to quell Will’s shock. In fact, it only served to make him feel indignant. “And you’re just telling me now?”
“To be fair, you are having a little bit of a crisis,” Jay reminded him. He squirted the mustard sloppily on the top of his cheese, hastily putting the other piece of bread on top.
Will was still standing there, sandwich only partially made, grappling with this revelation. “But you got engaged.”
Jay sighed a little, as though this nuance was putting him out. “Kind of. We kind of got engaged.”
Now Will just felt bewildered. As if he hadn’t been blindsided enough over the last few days. “Kind of?”
Jay picked up his sandwich. “It’s just complicated.”
Jay meandered to the couch and sat down. Will turned, still watching him in something of disbelief. “Me covering for Natalie stealing my trial drugs to treat her mother with unapproved conditions and no medical monitoring is complicated. Getting engaged isn’t.”
Jay clearly knew Will had a point, even if he wasn’t keen to admit it. Pride was a universal Halstead trait. “Look, it was just a lot -- and it was just really sudden. We haven’t even told most people we’re together, you know?” he said. “So I told her to take some time, think about it. I didn’t want her to make a decision emotionally that she might regret when she’s more clear headed. Kind of like what I want you to do right now.”
“Oh, no,” Will said, all but abandoning his sandwich now. “You’re not turning this back on me. She proposed and you told her no?”
“I told her to think about it, just to be sure,” Jay corrected him.
Will wasn’t sure how that was somehow better. “Okay.”
He seemed to hesitate, and he looked at Will cautiously. “And I also needed time to talk to you about the ring.”
Will almost forgot that they were at the lunch table now. “The ring?”
Jay didn’t look away, but he seemed quieter when he spoke. “Mom’s ring.”
The statement was simple.
The implication was loaded.
It felt heavy in Will’s gut. “Oh,” he said, letting himself understand even as his brain sluggishly kicked into gear.
The ring. Mom’s ring. The one he’d put on Natalie’s finger. The one she’d given back.
There was pain there, but it was so muted, so nuanced that he didn’t grasp it. He didn’t deserve to feel it.
Jay was watching him, though, so he wet his lips. Stiffly, he looked back to his sandwich numbly. “Well, sure,” he said. “I mean, Mom always said.”
“I know,” Jay said. He seemed to have forgotten about the food entirely now. “But that was before you gave it to Natalie.”
“She gave it back,” Will said, as if the simple words could help him forget how that had felt. “I mean, it’s not like I’m going to give it to her again.”
Jay looked like he might be willing to debate this point. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
Will scoffed because it was the only thing he could think to do. The noise almost hurt as it was wrenched from the tightness in his throat. “Jay, just use the ring. Propose to her. Marry her.”
“But why?” Jay asked. “I mean, if it’s too hard, maybe we just let the ring skip a generation--”
“Jay,” Will said, feeling the edge so sharp that the emotions threatened to flay him. “That’s stupid. If you’re at happily ever after, then use the ring. Mom wanted it. I want it. You deserve to be happy.”
This time, Jay seemed to be unsure. “And what about you? Don’t you deserve to be happy?”
“Making you happy is about the best I can think of right now,” Will admitted, finding this much truth to be a solid thing in all the rest of his doubt. “Get the ring. Marry her.”
“Well, I’m working on it,” Jay said. He paused to take a bite and swallow hastily. “Honestly, you being here is a great buffer. Gives me time to figure things out and think. Besides, I want to keep on an eye one.”
Will threw together the last of his sandwich, but gave Jay a critical look. “An eye on me? What do you think I’m going to do? I have no job.”
“Exactly,” Jay said, swallowing down another bite. He licked some mayo off his finger. “I want to keep you around to make sure we change that.”
Will was indignant out of reflex. “I can handle my own career.”
Jay snorted lightly. “Recent activity suggests otherwise.”
The jab wasn’t intended to be mean, and Will knew his brother’s intentions were good -- even if it did smart a little. He probably deserved that. No, he definitely deserved that. “Point taken,” he said, looking down at his sandwich and taking a bite. He could barely taste it, but he chewed and swallowed anyway.
“I’m just saying we can go over the job listings,” Jay said, more diplomatically now. “It’s overwhelming when you do it on your own. But the two of us, together, can make sense of it.”
Will nodded, taking a bite tentatively while he thought. “Will you get the ring if I do?”
Jay glowered momentarily, but he nodded his assent. “Fine,” he said. “Job listings for the ring.”
“Fine,” Will agreed.
“Now, eat up,” Jay ordered. “It seems like we’ve both got a lot to do.”
-o-
Eventually, Will did manage to make his sandwich and eat. He wasn’t all that hungry, but Jay was putting in so much effort that Will felt bad about not at least trying. There was no way he was going to convince his brother that he wasn’t emotionally unstable unless he attempted to act normal.
Of course, there was still the possibility that Will was emotionally unstable, but that wasn’t something Will could do a lot about at the moment. And he didn’t feel unstable. He just felt...empty. Vacant, somehow. Like part of himself was missing. Like most of himself was missing.
After lunch, Jay did ease off for a little bit. Will suspected his brother didn’t want to talk about the situation with Hailey, but the benefit for him was the same. They watched sports and bad action movies in relative quiet, each of them willing to pretend like things might actually be okay.
In the late afternoon, Jay said he was going out for a bit. He had a few errands to run and he’d pick up dinner. Will intended to do something productive with this time alone, but it occurred to him when Jay left that he had nothing productive to do. With no job and no relationships, he couldn’t quite come up with something of worth. And everything else just seemed to fall by the wayside.
Instead, Will wandered Jay’s apartment. He’d been here before, of course. He’d been here a lot. He knew where everything in the kitchen was, and he knew where Jay kept his tools and what was in his sock drawer. But as he perused it this time, he was struck by the other things. The little things, the things he took for granted. The books on his shelf. The pictures on his wall. Evidence of a life well lived.
Will’s own apartment reflected little of that kind of thing. He’d moved around a lot more than his brother had. Even while staying in Chicago, Will had hopped from one thing to the next. He’d lived with Nina for awhile. He’d taken in roommates in desperation. He and Natalie had lived together, and Will had found a nice apartment that he’d given up during the pandemic to move in with Hannah. When that had fallen apart, he’d found his latest place as cheap and as close to the hospital as he could manage. With the stress of the pandemic, he’d not been able to move all his stuff efficiently. Most if it was still in storage all these months later.
There were no mementos. There were no keepsakes.
All these years, and Will had little evidence that he’d done anything meaningful or been meaningful to anyone.
Nearly ten years of his life, and what did Will have to show for it? What did Will have to show for anything in his life? A trail of mistakes and half-finished promises? A line of broken hearts and unfulfilled potential?
Will had been fired just a few days ago, but this reckoning had been a long time coming.
To make matters worse, when Jay came back with some food, he also came back bearing newspapers.
Actual newspapers.
Will hadn’t realized that many were still actually in print.
He threw them at Will while he laid out the spread of takeout.
“What are these for?” Will asked, wondering how it was possible that this many newspapers were still in print.
“Job listings,” Jay said.
The words landed hard, and Will wasn’t sure if he felt shock, trepidation or anger. Part of him wanted to push the papers aside. Another part of him wanted to read them. Mostly, though, he was struck with an irrational desire to burn them and then throw them out the window.
Instead of acting on any of those very bad impulses, Will just sat there. He thought maybe that was a sign of progress, an indication that he did not have to give in to every wayward impulse that he had.
Yes, he was going for a low bar. At the moment, he thought that was acceptable.
“Job listings?” he asked finally, well aware that his voice made a funny, squeaky sort of sound.
“Job listings,” Jay said. He rummaged through a drawer and came up with a few eating utensils. “You know. What you look at when you don’t have a job.”
Will stared at him another moment, wishing that the Chinese food on the table came with fewer strings attached.
Jay sat down in the chair, opening the first box. He looked at Will, still sitting on the couch, the pile of papers on his lap. “You’re not going to make this hard, are you?”
Will looked at the papers.
He looked at his brother.
He’d refused his job back because actions had consequences. Consequences you hated; consequences Will deserved.
“No,” he said finally, picking up the papers and joining his brother at the table. “I’m not going to make this hard at all.”
-o-
Will wasn’t sure what he disliked more: eating Chinese food when he wasn’t hungry or looking for jobs when all he wanted to do was stop existing. Unfortunately for him, his brother was his only refuge, and Jay wasn’t going to allow him to starve or sit like a depressed bump on a very depressing log.
So, Will shoveled Chinese food into his mouth that he could barely taste and started flipping through the openings. Jay tried to bring some up online, too, but he had no idea where to start looking. Will pointed him in a few directions, and thus the inevitable job search began.
Jay, naturally, was much more optimistic than Will was. Every position sounded like a good one to him. “Hey,” he said, pointing at the screen where he was browsing a professional job board. “They’re hiring at East Mercy.”
“I can’t work at East Mercy,” Will said, skimming over the rest of the entries in the paper with lackluster enthusiasm.
“Sure you can,” Jay said. “They need an ED doc; you’re an ED doc.”
“With a terrible reputation,” Will reminded him.
“So you’ll fit right in,” Jay countered. “Everyone avoids East Mercy.”
“Are you trying to make me feel better or worse?” Will asked.
“I’m trying to be practical,” Jay said. “I mean, if you don’t like East Mercy, then what if we look outside an ED. I mean, there’s urgent cares, private practice--”
“I have no experience--”
“You’re an ED doc in the best ED in the city--”
“Was--”
Jay put the tablet down in a fit of frustration. “Do you even want a job? Or are you looking to sleep on my couch permanently?”
That wasn’t as hypothetical as Will would have liked to think it was. His malpractice premiums had fallen over the years, but he still had a pile of debt from medical school. He was going to be paying it off until he was 50 even with meaningful employment. Without a steady paycheck, he wouldn’t be able to afford his place after two months.
Fiscal responsibility -- was another Halstead trait that had gone exclusively to his brother.
Though, to be fair, putting yourself all the way through medical school without a dime of support from your parents was no small task.
Will reached for the paper, looking it over skeptically. “I don’t know,” he said. “I mean, who even publishes things in the want ads anymore?”
“What? They advertise for doctors on Craigslist?” Jay asked caustically. “I don’t know, man. Beggars can’t be choosers.”
Will remained unconvinced. He didn’t actually think he was above these jobs -- maybe it was the opposite. Maybe he didn’t think he deserved anything within the state of Chicago with his background being what it was.
“Come on,” Jay cajoled. “All you have to do is apply. To one job. Two jobs. Any job.”
Shaking his head, Will pushed the paper away again. “I don’t know. I mean, what if I look for jobs outside Chicago?”
Jay made a little face. “Like in the suburbs?”
Jay was bright and quick witted, but he was slow on the uptake this time. “Like not Chicago.”
He said it plain enough, and Jay’s face went a little slack at the sudden understanding. “Oh.”
Will felt a momentary pang of guilt. He wasn’t trying to hurt his brother -- just the opposite. He was trying to make this right by everyone in his life. “It’s just -- I do have other connections,” he said, trying to sound conciliatory. “I burned a lot of bridges in New York, but not all of them. I have some friends there still.”
That only made Jay look paler. “You want to go back to New York?”
Jay was taking the suggestion about as well as Will might have suspected. Will eased back in his seat, trying to make himself less imposing. He could do diplomatic better than his brother. He just hoped he could do it when it counted. “I don’t want to go back to New York. I’m just saying it’s an option,” he said. “A good option. A chance to really make a fresh start.”
Jay’s face screwed up. He sat forward again with a scowl. “You don’t need to move across teh country for a fresh start,” he said. “A new job: a bam, there you go.”
Wetting his lips, Will was tentative to disagree with his brother. “It’s not that easy.”
With a huff of frustration, Jay widened his hands. “And it’s not that hard,” he said. “Seriously, Will, you don’t have to run away.”
“No, I don’t, but I do need a job,” he said. “And I’m not sure that job is at East Mercy or an urgent care clinic. I don’t even know if it’s here. I need to figure this out, Jay. I’m not trying to hurt you, I swear, and no one is running this time. I’m just -- trying to figure things out.”
It wasn’t the most eloquent explanation, but it was simple enough that Jay could find no fault in it. He shifted uncomfortably and sighed heavily. Angrily, he picked up his fork and poked at his food viciously until he’d speared a piece of chicken. “Whatever,” he muttered. He glared at Will over his food. “Go off, look off, look for yourself, whatever the hell you need. But you mark this: you belong in Chicago. When this is all said and done, you’ll be right back here where you should be.”
Will gathered a forkful of his own and finally found relief enough to smile. “I guess we’ll find out.”
-o-
To say he was motivated was a bit of an overstatement. In truth, Will mostly wanted to still curl up on Jay’s couch, wear his pajamas and drink alcohol until his brother grew tired of him and kicked him out. That wasn’t a solution, however. He’d forfeited his right to want anything the second he’d let his career spectacularly crash and burn.
This was on him, then. Rebuilding his career -- rebuilding himself -- bit by painful bit.
And it started with a job.
Having eschewed all of Jay’s options in the greater Chicago area, Will made good on his word and hit up his contacts in New York. This had taken most of the next morning, which Jay had mercifully gone to work for. Will called contact by contact, scrawling notes on a piece of paper about what each contact might have to offer. It felt a little forced -- trying to leverage friendships that had not been active for years. With most of these people, he’d exchanged nothing more than pleasantries over the last decade. And here he was, freshly fired and asking for favors.
Still, he knew that being responsible couldn’t be synonymous with doing nothing. No matter what his failures in Chicago had been -- and they had been plentiful -- he was still a doctor. There was no way around fixing this situation other than that.
Surprisingly, everyone was happy to hear from him, and when he asked about job openings, there were several positive suggestions. One was in the ED where he’d once worked in med school. Another was at a private practice with an old drinking buddy of his. Despite his spotty record, both of these jobs were viable leads. Hell, they would probably pay better than his job at Med -- and he could rebuild his career without missing a beat.
Not a single beat.
This week of miserable unemployment would be a blip.
Quickly forgotten and overlooked.
An insignificant, negligible gap on his resume.
There was no reason, then, why it just felt so wrong.
Except, there was every reason.
This wasn’t a blip. This wasn’t negligible.
Will had made a mistake.
Will needed to learn from that mistake.
He couldn’t do that if he kept landing on his feet like a cat with never ending lives.
This one needed to hurt.
This one needed to count.
This one -- couldn’t be in New York any more than it could be in Chicago.
Feeling restless, Will scrolled through his phone contact list and wiggled his toes. He lingered on one last contact. All he had to do was make one last call.
And he might finally finish what he started.
-o-
He made himself eat lunch, if only because he knew Jay would notice if the leftovers were still in the fridge. He ate most of it but didn’t taste most of it. He didn’t know how to focus on the little things, much less find joy or purpose in them. He just had to get through one minute at a time, one hour at a time, one day at a time.
But those minutes kept leading him back to the inevitable reality that he had to do something. The emptiness of Will’s life stretched before him bleakly, and while he felt like that was probably what he deserved, it wasn’t what Jay deserved.
He just didn’t know what it had to be so hard. Will had gotten through medical school all on his own. He’d had no support, no backup. But here he was: falling apart.
No, here he was: already in pieces.
Feeling frustrated with himself, he decided to get out of the apartment. He knew Jay’s neighborhood better than he knew his own at this point. While he’d moved from flat to flat, Jay had stayed steady. Will had never thought of that as an asset before, but as he wandered the familiar streets, he was beginning to see the appeal.
A live well lived was a live well connected. There was accountability in stability, and Will had never been great with either.
Jay had built his career. He had built a future. Professionally, sure, but personally, too.
And what was Will doing?
Will was lying about trial drugs, and ruining the careers of people he cared about. He was damaging the hospital he claimed to love, and he was throwing the future of his colleagues into the wind because he thought he knew better.
Because he thought he was saving a life.
But Natalie’s mother had needed the heart transplant anyway.
Natalie had owned up to her mistakes.
And what was Will doing?
Starting things he didn’t know how to finish. Starting things he didn’t want to finish. Starting things he had no way of finishing.
It was why Jay was the better brother -- always.
It was why Will was still picking up the pieces when everyone else was moving on.
He had to go back -- not to Med, but to the start. He couldn’t make things right with his parents -- both were dead and buried. And he and Jay were on good terms, despite all of Will’s screw ups. No, Will had to go back to the start of his career. He had to get it all back.
Not Chicago.
Not New York.
He had to start earlier.
Not the first mistake, but the first mistake he could still fix.
Then he could be the brother Jay deserved.
Then he could be the doctor he’d tried to be.
Then he could be the man he wanted to be.
-o-
Back at Jay’s place, he took out his phone. No matter how many times he circled back, he still struggled to make the call. He checked his texts instead, and he didn’t know what to make of them. He had nearly two dozen, all from friends and colleagues at Med. April asking what happened. Dr. Charles telling him to call sometime. Maggie sent the most, pinging him nearly hourly with exhortations that demanded some kind of reply or else.
Most of the messages he couldn’t even bring himself to read fully, much less reply. He made an exception for Maggie, if only because he was pretty sure he didn’t want to find out what or else might mean.
He told her he was fine.
She didn’t need to worry, he was figuring things out and he was just fine.
It didn’t feel good to lie to Maggie, of course, but Will didn’t know what else to do.
As for the rest of the afternoon, Will found he couldn’t account for it. He would walk around Jay’s apartment blindly and then sit down to think. Each time, time would slip by, and he would come back to his senses with his phone still in his hand and no move made.
Once or twice, he sat down on the couch and cried, hot, overwhelming tears that he had no right to. He squeezed the emotions shut and reprimanded himself, picking up the phone and trying again.
Finally, with Jay due home in an hour, Will looked at the contact list. He was out of time as much as he was out of options. Starting over required a lot of things, but mostly it required you to start.
Will made the call, listening to it ring. For a beautiful moment, he thought maybe no one would answer. Maybe the number was out of date. Maybe the timezones didn’t work out. Maybe he wouldn’t have to do this after all.
Will’s days of luck, however, were long over.
The line was picked up after four rings. “Hello? Adam Goshit speaking.”
Adam sounded exactly the same. From the greeting, it was like no time had passed, and Will felt like he was still the young doctor on an aggressive trauma surgery fellowship. He could have picked any number of jobs, but he’d picked this one. He’d picked Africa.
Adam had been one of the other fellows, and while most of their fellow candidates had flamed out within weeks or months, he and Adam had made it through the first six months by one another’s sides. They’d found solidarity there, similar in their passion and creativity as doctors.
They’d been fast and easy friends, and Will could still remember the good times they’d had together in and out of the hospitals. They’d been like brothers, once.
But then Will had gone and done something very Will like. He’d left behind Adam along with the rest of his fellowship and all the plans he’d made as a trauma surgeon on the front lines.
This was a mistake.
“Hello?” Adam said again, sounding a little vexed now.
“Hi,” Will said finally, too embarrassed to just hang up. He forced himself to speak. “Hi, Adam.”
“Ah!” Adam said, sounding suddenly enthusiastic. “It is you! I thought my caller ID was a lie!”
So Adam hadn’t deleted Will’s contact and tried to scrub him from his life after his ungraceful exit. Even on the phone, Will’s shame was too much. He felt his cheeks redden.
“Yeah, it’s me,” Will said, for the lack of something better to say. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “It’s been awhile.”
“A while!” Adam said. “Halstead, it has been more than 10 years!”
The thought of it was somehow overwhelming. It was too long -- and not long enough. When Will didn’t so much burn his bridges in the past; he just abandoned them. Going back made him question the structural integrity, but it was too late to turn back now.
Besides, he had nowhere else to go. Med wasn’t an option. He couldn’t stay in Chicago. He wasn’t about to go back to New York. In short, calling Adam was about the only option left.
“A long time, for sure,” Will said meekly.
“Too long!” Adam said, still sounding oddly enthusiastic. Will had left Africa in a rush without saying goodbye. He’d been making a point to avoid a lot of things -- and a lot of people. Adam more than most of the rest, so the fact that Adam was greeting him like a long lost friend was curious. “How are you?”
“Oh, I -- I’m okay,” Will said, for the lack of something better to say. “I, um. What are you up to? Still in Africa?”
“I am still with the organization, yes,” Adam said, and he sounded proud. “I have been promoted! I manage my own ED now. They keep trying to get me to take on a hospital as Chief of Staff, but I do not want it. I do not want it at all!”
Will chuckled despite himself. His own issues aside, it was easy to remember why he’d gotten along so well with Adam. “You’d be good as a hospital administrator.”
Adam scoffed loudly. “You insult me!” he said. “I know they will get me someday, but I am doing my best to hold out. Stay strong. But you actually have caught me on sabbatical. I’m at the end of a three month holdover. I spent some time in Europe, but I thought I’d see your United States, get some extra training. I am in New York for the next few days, no more.”
“Oh, hey, look at you,” Will said. “You have grown up, then. I never could convince you there was a world outside of Africa.”
“It is my home, Halstead!” Adam objected loudly. “I have never needed or wanted more. I will be going back soon. But what about you? You went to New York?”
“I left New York a long time ago,” Will said. “Ended up back home in Chicago.”
“See, we are both home boys at heart,” Adam said. “I know how it is. I do.”
“Well, that’s actually the reason I’m calling,” Will said, venturing carefully as he saw his opening. “I’m thinking of leaving Chicago again.”
“Oh? Still restless, Halstead?” Adam said with a sardonic tone.
“Maybe. Or just needing a change. I was wondering if you knew of any openings,” Will said. “You said you still work with the organization, right?”
“I am,” Adam said. His accent was less heavy these days; clearly, he’d improved his English. “I mean, much has changed since you left -- lots of people, they come and go. But it is like family to me now.”
“Well, I’m open for anything,” Will said. “Any position, any level: you name it.”
Adam was quiet for a moment. When he spoke, he sounded surprised. “I thought you had bigger and better things on the horizon. I never thought I would see you again, my friend. You always dreamed big.”
“And now I’m looking to live small,” Will said. He drew a breath, and let it out. He couldn’t move forward without acknowledging the past -- all aspects of it. “And I won’t lie to you. This job search isn’t just my choice. I’ve run into a few difficulties.”
Adam snorted over the phone. “A few difficulties? Somehow I feel like that is a euphemism. Do you still hate the reality of medical ethics?”
“And my bosses still hate when I do,” Will confirmed, lips twisting ruefully. “I’ve burned most of my bridges in Chicago, if you’re looking for references--”
Adam scoffed. “Fired?”
“I technically quit,” Will said.
“Ah,” Adam mused. He was clearly smiling. “You didn’t kill anyone, did you?”
“No--”
“And your license is still intact?” Adam asked.
“Yes,” Will said. “I mean, I can explain it all better--”
Adam made a small, dismissive noise. “Medical ethics are great in your fancy hospitals and private practices,” he said. “What I do, such ethics can be a luxury. We need good surgeons and hard workers. Can you promise me that you are not going to make me regret this?”
“Adam, I’ll do anything, best behavior, you have my word,” Will pledged.
“Well!” Adam said, enthusiastic once again. “It would be fun to get the gang back together! Gather your resume, and submit it to me by tomorrow. If you can find one reference that doesn’t hate you, send that as well and I will talk to my boss.”
The suddenness and the openness of Adam’s offer was more than a little bit of a surprise. Will had not left Africa under the best of terms. In fact, he’d left without notifying Adam until after he was out of the country. “Great,” he said, genuinely surprised. “Thank you.”
“Do not thank me just yet,” Adam warned him. “The postings we have open are not prestigious--”
“That’s fine--”
“And they are immediate,” Adam continued. “You would need to be ready to start your tour next week.”
The shortened timeline was not something Will had anticipated. He’d only lost his job at Med a few days ago. He still hadn’t said goodbye to most of his coworkers. “A week?”
Adam chuckled over the line. “You got something better to do, Halstead?”
And that was the question, then. A question Will finally had a real answer to. “You know,” he said slowly, nodding his head with renewed certainty. “As a matter of fact, I don’t.”
“There it is, my friend!” Adam said, sounding congratulatory. “You still have my email?”
“If it hasn’t changed--”
“Send, send, then,” Adam said readily. “I look forward to finishing what we started together.”
And that, more than anything else that had happened to him in the last week, sounded about right.
-o-
So, Will had found a job. He’d found it on his terms, and he’d found it quickly. It was the job he knew he wanted right now -- the job that would serve the best purpose for himself and his career.
That was the good news.
The bad news was that now he had to tell Jay.
On the one hand, Jay would be pleased that he got a job. He knew that Jay’s primary concern in all of this was that Will would completely flail and fall apart. Which, he had, for about a week, but here he was. With a likely offer of gainful employment. He’d have a job, which was the inherently responsible thing he had to address at this exact moment in time.
Salvaging his reputation in Chicago wasn’t doable. Rebuilding it overseas, however?
Well, it had definite appeal and practical implications. He could do this. He didn’t doubt it for a moment. He’d cut ties and restarted several times in his life. There was no reason to think he couldn’t pull it off again.
Which of course, brought him to the other hand. Jay would be pissed as hell that he was ditching Chicago for something as far removed as Africa. He wouldn’t see it as a challenge; he would see it as running away. He wouldn’t see it as a fresh start; he would see it as quitting.
And maybe Jay had a point. When he first went to Africa, he’d been in his 20s and fresh out of medical school. He’d been desperate for a way to prove himself, and he’d been brimming with confidence. Of course, he’d also been desperate to get as far away from home as possible. He hadn’t wanted to stay in contact back then. Not even a little.
Things were different now.
He liked to think he was different now, but the current evidence wasn’t exactly in his favor.
Chicago had been his home for a long time now. Honestly, before last week, he’d thought of it as his future. He’d grown up here -- not just in Canaryville, but at Med. He’d found stability and consistency. He’d learned to be a better doctor, a better person. For awhile, he’d made friends. He fallen in love. He’d made peace with his family.
He’d spent the better part of a decade building all that.
And he’d managed to rip it apart in a week.
The job was over. His reputation was in shreds. All his relationships had imploded.
The thing was, though, Jay couldn’t see what Will could see. Because Jay would be pissed as hell, and he’d be disappointed, but he’d be wrong. See, Jay didn’t need him. When he’d left before, he’d told himself that, but it was true now. Jay didn’t need him, hanging around like a dead weight as he nursed his career back to health at the local urgent care. Jay didn’t need Will showing up when he was depressed and drunk after another snafu.
What Will knew that Jay refused to admit was that Jay was better off without him. Everyone here was. The hospital -- wouldn’t miss him. Goodwin, despite her offer, would be relieved to be rid of him. His colleagues might have wondered about him for a day, but Ethan had the ED moving in a new direction.
No matter what Will thought he needed or didn’t need, he knew for a fact that his brother needed to move on. Jay needed to let go. He needed to focus on his job for awhile, not to mention his relationship with Hailey. That one was the real thing, and Will knew it. Jay was the only family he had left, and at this point, he was the only Halstead with a chance at happiness -- a future.
Will couldn’t hold him back
He wouldn’t.
Africa was the right choice for Will.
And it was the right choice for Jay -- even if he was pretty sure Jay wouldn’t see it that way.
-o-
Will didn’t dwell on it any longer. Before he could talk himself out of it, he submitted his resume to Adam and sat back with uncertain relief.
It was done, then.
It was actually done.
Now came the hard part, of course: following through.
-o-
The next thing was to tell Jay.
Except Will didn’t know how.
How did you tell your brother that you were moving to Africa? How did you tell the guy who had picked you up off the ground that you were leaving him -- again? Jay didn’t handle that sort of thing particularly well, and he definitely took it personally. To say that the thought made Will anxious would be an understatement.
He intended to tell Jay quickly -- like pulling off a bandaid -- but he promptly lost his nerve the second his brother walked back through the door.
He’d made dinner in an attempt to soften the blow, but instead of broaching the topic, he let Jay prattle on about his day instead. It seemed to be a venture Jay enjoyed -- either that, or he thought that Will needed the conversation to snap him out of his funk.
Either way, Jay didn’t need much actual conversational feedback to keep going, and Will had finished his dinner long before his brother had even taken a few bites.
“Oh, hey,” Jay said, snapping his fingers and pointing at Will. “I meant to tell you earlier. I ran into Maggie today.”
Will stopped chewing and looked at his brother. “Maggie?”
“Yeah,” Jay said with a shrug of affectation. “I had a thing a Med today. She was there.”
Now, Jay did have things at Med, so that wasn’t a totally implausible scenario. However, Will had already listened to the rest of Jay’s day in great detail. His brother was on a murder case -- with no survivors, no witnesses and currently no leads or suspects. There was exactly no part of such an investigation that would naturally be a thing at Med.
In other words, his brother had gone to Med looking for Maggie.
Jay wouldn’t say it, and Will didn’t have the heart to contradict him. Instead, he reached for his beer. “Oh,” he said noncommittally.
Jay didn’t seem to notice Will’s reticence. He swallowed down another bite. “She said she misses you.”
Will put down his drink again, having swallowed his own sip. “Well, she would say that.”
He wasn’t trying to be snarky, but it sort of came out that way. Jay rolled his eyes a little. “Come on, man. She meant it.”
Will picked up his napkin and wiped his fingers for something to do. “That’s sweet of her, it is. I miss Maggie, too.”
Will was hoping that was that, but he wasn’t exactly having a lucky streak -- and his brother could be relentless like a dog with a bone. It made him a good cop and generally a pretty good brother.
And it made him impossible to put off.
“Look, I know you think that bridge is burned at Med--” Jay started.
Will could already feel the pressure in his chest tightened again. “It is, Jay.”
Jay was undeterred. “But literally everyone asked about you,” he said. “I mean, everyone. Even people I didn’t know. People I didn’t think you even liked. They all wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Jay let that point sink in before he cocked his head and went for the clincher.
“They wanted to know why you weren’t coming back,” Jay told him.
Because of course Will needed more reasons to second guess what he already knew. He’d made up his mind. He’d made a commitment, and he was trying to stick to it -- and here Jay was, trying to undermine his good intentions and take the easy way out.
Will couldn’t.
He couldn’t.
And Jay was so scared of letting Will go that he couldn’t see it.
“I’ve told you why,” Will said, slowly and evenly. “I did a stupid thing -- I did something wrong. I mean, people will say anything, but when you get down to the medical ethics, it’s not something you can just overlook.”
“Except you can,” Jay said. “This wasn’t just lip service. They know what you did, and they don’t care nearly as much as you think they do. Hell, Maggie thought you were a damned saint for trying to take that fall for Natalie. I think some of them would have done the same.”
Will shook his head, exasperated. “No, they wouldn't have.”
“That Crockett guy would have,” Jay said. He sat back, crossing his arms over his chest as if bringing up Natalie’s ex-boyfriend might prove a point.
“Jay--”
“Will--”
Will sat forward, putting his forearms on the table to look at Jay and make him understand. “I know what you’re trying to do, and I get it, I do. It’s actually kind of sweet, but I can’t keep doing this. What I’m trying to do is hard enough as it is.”
It was an appeal to his brother’s softer side, which Will knew his brother had despite any efforts he made to downplay it. The fact that Will was the last of Jay’s family certainly made this harder in some respects. In others, it would invariably make it easier.
“Okay, okay, fine,” Jay said, willfully relenting at last. He sat back, clearly off his not-so-subtle offensive. He glanced around before nodding at the papers Will had left scattered across the coffee table in the living room. Will’s laptop was still open, even though it had gone to sleep. “How’s the job hunt?”
It was enough of a concession to count, and Will wanted to be grateful. Except that truth was an even harder pill to try to get his brother to swallow.
“Ah, a few things I’m working on,” Will said vaguely. He could feel his face redden as he looked down at his empty plate, wishing he still had something to pick at to make this less awkward.
He was being stupid, and he knew it. This was his chance, after all. It was such an easy invitation to come clean and tell Jay the truth.
The problem was that Jay was still finding reasons to stop by Med on his behalf. Will had come to horrible terms with the situation he’d created for himself. Clearly, his brother had not.
If Will told him that he’d been talking to Adam, that he was thinking about going back to Africa--
Well, Jay wasn’t ready for that.
And Will didn’t trust himself to tell him.
Not until the job offer was in hand.
Not until the whole thing was a done deal.
Otherwise, he might lose his nerve altogether.
Fortunately, it was enough to satisfy Jay for now. “That’s something, at least,” he said. Then, he slipped back into supportive brother mode. “I thought we’d take a break tonight, though. Stop with all the job crap.”
Will sat back, feeling relieved. “I’d like that, actually. What did you have in mind?”
Jay started shoveling food into his mouth again. “PlayStation?” he suggested, taking a quick swig of beer. “Break out The Show.”
“Oh, baseball,” Will said, tidying up his plate to clear it. The idea of having fun was oddly foreign to him, but the idea of not having to tell Jay the truth -- yet -- was more than appealing to help Will overcome that trepidation. “I may be a little rusty.”
Jay snorted, grinning a bit now. “So that’ll be your excuse when I kick your ass tonight?”
Will got up, taking his plate to the sink. “We’ll see who's ass gets kicked.”
Jay took a huge bite, getting up after Will to put his plate away. “You’re on, bro. You’re on.”