https://screenrant.com/chicago-pd-season-11-hailey-upton-exit-theories/ from that 7 exit theories in how many % will happen every theorie what do you think?

It's taken me a few days to answer this because I wanted to do it on my computer, but let's break it down:

Upton joins Halstead in Bolivia: I feel like this definitely will not happen. She has no ties to the military and has never even made a comment about possibly wanting to join either as a contractor or as a reservists.

Upton Gets Back Together With Halstead & The Couple Leaves Chicago Together: I think one is logical and a great option to what could happen. Two things need to happen in order for this to happen. First thing is something needs to get Jay's attention to come back to Chicago, and then something needs to happen to Hailey either at CPD or in Chicago that completely rocks her world. I could see them using something happening to Hailey as the catalyst for Jay to come home, and then together they decide to leave Chicago and all of the ghosts it holds for them.

Upton Is Offered A New Position In The CPD: This is also a logical option, and would make sense. If she simply transferred departments and stayed in Chicago, just in the background... It would make sense. I don't really see this one happening only because with all the characters that have left the franchise from PD they have either gone to the feds or died - I don't see Hailey being an exception here, particularly because they didn't do this with Jay.

Upton Leaves The CPD & Joins The FBI: Again, this is a theory that is rooted in some sense and logic. I don't see this one happening, only because this is what happened with Erin. Furthermore, they already sort of threw this storyline with Hailey and she chose PD over the FBI, so I don't think they would re-tell the storytelling... Even with Jay somewhat in this picture because it would mirror how Erin left, and I just.. Hailey deserves better than a rehashing of Erin's storyline.

Upton Quits The Intelligence Unit & Police Work Altogether: Strangely, this one sort of seems out of left field. Being a cop has more or less defined Hailey Upton for SO long and for SO many years... It's all she knows, except for the house she grew up in. In conjunction with what has happened to her this past year, I could see something happening that really shifts her foundation, and makes her reprioritize her life - and that means that she has to leave the CPD. Maybe she decides to become that lawyer and change the justice system from a different angle, or something else. This option is actually one that I have been thinking they will use for Hailey's exit since we heard the news. The good (and bad) thing about this option is that they can do it for Hailey by herself (if they don't bring Jay back) but they can also do it and somehow incorporate Jay into it too. So, it works well for both sides there.

Upton Moves Out Of Chicago After Divorcing Halstead: This one is self explanatory.... I just... No. I don't/won't entertain this one

Upton Dies: Sadly, this could be an option. This option kind of scares me because they haven't offed a character since Al, so it's been a minute. The shock value that this would cause is a network's dream in the sense of the viewers and numbers, but for the life of me, I don't see why doing this to a well loved, fan favorite character would bring. I don't see this one happening.

My guess is that we will get a mix of these two: Upton Quits The Intelligence Unit & Police Work Altogether with Upton Gets Back Together With Halstead & The Couple Leaves Chicago Together. I think more or less something is going to happen to Hailey - whether it is getting shot, something at the hands of Voight again, something happening to Jay, etc.... Something just really, really big that shatters her whole world and the foundation she's built her life on, that really causes her to evaluate her perspective and what she wants. From there, she'll leave the unit and move on with her life. (Hopefully with Jay!!!) And the good news with these options is that they can write it this way, with her ending up with Jay, and we don't necessarily have to have Jay on our screens to do it. Of course it would be much better if we see Jay and I sure hope we do - but it could be done both ways.

I don't see her taking another position within the CPD because they didn't do that with Jay and they haven't done that with any other characters - everyone else has left Chicago for the most part or died. I don't see her joining the feds because they have already used that storyline with her and it'd be too similar to Erin's departure, and I don't think they'd do that twice.

But at the end of all of this too, I really have no clue, and given what happened with Jay last year, I'm not scared to admit I am horrified at the thought of what they might do with her. This is also very contingent on how many episodes she will be given when they write her out. I am holding on with bated breath and a single shred of hope from JLS saying "trust the process."

Two Can Play This Game

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader (Chicago Med ED doctor)

Summary: Y/N and Jay have a very undefined relationship, which causes problems when Jay decides to meet with Ally, his ex, for drinks. Y/N’s not one to take things lightly, so when Jay dismisses her jealousy she decides to give him a taste of his own medicine...

Warnings: Loud yelling-at-each-other arguments, which can be triggering, so please watch out! Swearing + dubious medical content, as per usual lol

A/N: I just needed a break before I got started on Not A Stranger Part 4, so this happened! Enjoy! As per usual, please leave comments if you really liked it - they mean a lot!

The sun is bearing down on you hard, and you feel a trickle of sweat go down the back of your neck.

“Need a drink?” It’s Ethan, tossing a cool bottle of water at you. Grinning, you catch it and quickly begin to empty it into your mouth.

Ethan’s frowning, looking up into the sky. “Some days, I just don’t get Chicago. It’s either freezing because it’s the polar vortex, or it’s boiling hot because - well. Whatever. I hate this.” Crushing the plastic bottle, you toss it into a nearby trashcan. “We’ve cleared everyone?” You ask, gesturing to the relatively less frantic movement of firefighters, cops, and doctors on the road. Ethan nods.

A gas explosion had gone off in an apartment, and it was bad enough that CFD paged ED doctors to come down and treat some patients on the scene. Natalie, Connor, Lanik and the student doctors opted to stay behind and hold down the fort, so you were dispatched out with Will and Ethan. For the last hour and a half, you’d been busy running triage and treating whatever burns, smoke inhalations, and other trauma injuries came your way. Luckily, the fire had been contained to just one floor, so there were only a few really awful burns. But of course, this is Chicago so there’s only so much luck going around.

The building was an old one, and that coupled with several structural defects meant that the south face of the building had partially collapsed. So in essence, for every burn victim CFD pulled out, there were about three penetrating or blunt traumas from falling concrete.

“Yeah, but I’d rather treat trauma from a falling object than burns any day,” Ethan comments and you raise your eyebrows. “See, if you’d told me that at the start I would’ve just taken all the burn vics and tossed the rest to you.” Ethan throws his hands up, as you start laughing. “Okay hold on, I didn’t say I wanted to take them all – ” “You guys good?” Cruz swings by, soot and sweat on his face. He takes off his helmet with a sigh, and his shoulders sag like he’s been carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. “Should be asking you that. Are you guys done with search and rescue?” You ask, kicking a nearby plastic chair towards him. Cruz thanks you and starts taking off his equipment. “Yeah, we’ve cleared building. CPD’s in there now.” You nod, your heart skipping a beat at the thought of the police - well specifically at the thought of one detective who you know is on scene…

Except you’re supposed to be mad at him now, so stop thinking about him!

“So they think this is arson? And that it’s related to some case Intelligence is working?” Ethan asks, and Cruz nods, “Seems that way, yeah.”

There’s a moment of silence, and your eyes scan the area, watching patrol officers lift up police tape for the last few victims being wheeled into ambulances. You get up, ready to check with Will if he’s ready to go back when Cruz kicks at your feet, a cheeky smile on his face.

“So what’s this I hear about you and the younger Halstead being on the outs?” His eyes light up, and you groan, swearing. Ethan laughs, and you shoot him a glare, to which he simply shrugs like as if he’s got nothing to do with this.

You turn back to Cruz, narrowing your eyes at him. “Who told you and what do you know?”

“All I know is that you and Jay were both at Molly’s last night and you didn’t even look at each other.” Cruz pouts, acting all sad. “What happened to my favourite detective-doctor duo, huh? Why the trouble in paradise?”

You roll your eyes. “We’re fine. We just…were hanging out with different groups of people last night.” Shrugging your shoulders, you lean against the nearby table of supplies, trying to look all nonchalant. Ethan raises his eyebrows, “So you’re definitely not pissed about the blonde chick Jay had drinks with 2 nights ago?”

“Okay, fuck you - ” You exclaim, unable to hide your rage at that memory. Which Ethan and Cruz find hilarious, apparently, because they’re throwing their heads back and laughing.

“You guys suck,” You punch Cruz in the arm as you walk away; the two men calling you back while still laughing. You flip your middle finger at them, which elicits an outraged “Hey!” Shaking your head, you chuckle as well.

The Med ED/Firehouse 51/Intelligence circle is a tight one and you love it - love having friends who are more or less in the same line of work, friends you can lean on, friends who don’t get pissed when you have to cancel on them last minute. But the flip side of that is the fact that nothing stays secret. Gossip is most the valuable currency in that social circle, so if Cruz and Ethan know, then it’s not a bad guess to think everyone knows.

“Dude, c’mon. You’re an adult. Just take the damn injection!” Severide’s voice catches your attention, and you turn. He’s standing at the back of an ambulance, with Will and Jay by his side (your heart, again, skips a beat, which only pisses you off because ugh, you’re so bad at being angry at him!). The three of them are crowded around a fairly attractive, topless blonde man sitting in the back of the ambulance, shaking his head vehemently. You start making your way towards them, listening in.

“Hell nah – I’m not letting you stab me with that shit – ” The guy’s eyes are wide, and he’s leaning back from Will.

“It’s just a tetanus shot,” Will explains, exasperated. He points to the guy’s side, where a bandaged piece of gauze has been stuck to his skin. “The rusty stairwell scratched you, so you need to get a tetanus shot.”

“I said, I’m not fucking doing needles!” Hot blond guy yells and Jay runs his hand down his face. “Okay dude seriously, I can’t question you about the fire unless you get treated first, so please just take the damn shot so we can all move on with our lives – ”

“What’s going on?” You interject, hands on your hips. All four men turn, and you’re very careful to not make eye contact with Jay. Will and Kelly both immediately shoot furtive glances at Jay once they see you, so obviously they also know that you and Jay are having an argument. Great!

I mean, it has to have been Jay’s fault, because you didn’t tell anyone…well except for Natalie…who might have told Maggie…who might have told April…who might have told Kelly - shit. Well, it doesn’t matter. The whole thing is only happening because of Jay. Technically the two of you weren’t really dating – it was just a couple of hookups, but then you also started hanging out a lot together, and it got to the point where everyone knew that the two of you were basically kinda sorta an item.

You liked that you guys never had to sit down and talk about what exactly the two of you were – all that meant was that you guys were strong and confident and that you didn’t need to have a discussion about where you stood!

Or at least that’s what it meant to you. Jay apparently thought it meant it was completely okay to go have drinks with an on and off ex from high school, who he’d admitted to you he’d hooked up with on multiple occasions in the past. When you (rightfully!) got pissed at him, he just frowned and said “What’s the problem? We’re not together.”

To which you responded very maturely.

So maturely!

In a very, very responsible way…

Okay, fine, maybe you screamed “FUCK YOU!” at the top of your lungs and left his apartment, slamming his front door loud enough to wake up all the neighbours.

You get that you’re maybe being a little over-dramatic, and maybe it is on you because you just assumed you didn’t have to have that conversation with Jay. But it hurt you immensely how he thought it was okay to go have drinks with an ex (an ex!) without thinking about you at all.

“Blake here tripped on his way down the fire escape and got scraped by a rusty stairwell, but he’s refusing his tetanus shot.” Will explains, snapping you out of your reverie.

You turn to the guy just in time to catch him giving you a very slow once over, smirking.

Okay…

“How come a big strong guy like you is scared of needles, hmm?” You tilt your head, putting on your best flirty voice. It’s just a thing that tends to work with unruly male patients, you’ve learned over the years.

And yeah, maybe it can be a side benefit that Jay’s going to be an audience to you flirting with someone else…serves him right!

“I’m uh, I’m not actually scared of needles. Just didn’t trust that guy – ” He nods towards Will, who throws his hands in the air, “ – to do a good job you know? Take a delicate hand for these things. Speaking of which…you look like you’re pretty good with your hands,” Blake licks his lips, flirting with you blatantly. You have to press your lips against each other to not burst out laughing.

“Dude…” Jay threatens in a deep, dark voice, but stops when you turn around and grab the tetanus shot pack out of Will’s hands. You step towards Blake, who’s looking up at you with lust in his eyes as he shifts for you. Wiping his shoulder down with an alcohol swab, you find a good spot.

“I’m pretty good with my hands too, by the way,” Blake supplies, winking and you nod. “I’ll bet,” You reply, as someone behind you scoffs. From the corner of your eye, you can see Kelly turn away, trying not to laugh.

You’re much closer to Blake than you really need to be, not that he minds – in fact you’re pretty sure he’s having a great time checking you out up close. He curses under his breath when you inject him, but quickly recovers. You rub on the jab site once done, and trash the used pack. “Good to go,” You shoot Blake a smile. “Oh, one more thing!”

You turn, looking at a very frowny, jaws tight, arms-crossed-over-his-chest Jay Halstead. “Let me borrow that,” You reach forward and take his notepad and pen from him, before scribbling down your number on the top most sheet. Ripping it off, you press it against Blake’s chest, winking. Blake’s hands come up to take the piece of paper, grinning, briefly brushing your fingers as you pull away. Jay’s jaw is on the floor when you return his notepad and pen to him, and you can see Will just shake his head at you, amusement all over his face.

“Alright, let’s go!” You say to Will, and the two of you plus Kelly leave Jay behind with Blake.

“Jay’s going to murder that guy, you know right?” Kelly asks, once you’re out out earshot from Jay. “Like, he’s going down for a homicide. You just got an innocent man killed.” You chuckle and Will lets out a low whistle.

“I’m not gonna say he didn’t have that coming, but damn that was harsh.” The older Halstead says, still laughing.

Shrugging your shoulders, you act innocent. “I don’t know what you guys are talking about – I was just making friends!”

Will and Kelly both look at each other before looking back at you.

“Oh, yeah, of course – ”

“Obviously, what else could that have been – ”

You punch them both in the shoulder at their faux-agreement, the three of you laughing. Ethan comes over, saying there’s an ambulance ready to take them back to Med. You and Will say your goodbyes to Kelly, and take your leave.

***

It’s almost midnight when you finally get home. Hip-checking your door close behind you, you start undoing your scarf and carelessly toss it onto your coffee table, before collapsing onto your couch. Your hand roams the crevices of your couch, finding the plastic remote and turning on your TV. Rubbing your eyes while yawning, your TV comes alive to the news of the day. As if on cue, the screen is filled with videos of the building from earlier this morning.

“…while the gas explosion was first assumed to be an accident, it was later proven by CPD Intelligence that it was started by Derrick Henderson, a 35 year-old construction worker from Englewood, who…”

There’s a knock on your door, three loud raps. You blink, confused, and there’s another three. Frowning, you sit up, and you hear: “Y/N, I know you’re in there, c’mon just…just let me in, please,” Jay’s voice is muffled from the other side of your front door, but you know it’s him. Groaning, you get up and make your way over, unlatching your door.

“What do you want.” You intone, seeing him standing there in your threshold. He grabs the door with his hand, like as if he’s afraid you’re gonna shut the door in his face.

“I think I owe you an apology,” Jay starts and you hum, agreeing. “And then I think you owe me an apology,” He finishes, and your mouth falls open.

“What the fuck did I do!” You yell, shoving against his chest. Unfortunately for you, he doesn’t even budge - which is kinda hot, actually, wait, dammit - focus!

Jay’s eyes go wide, like he can’t believe you’re claiming innocence. “Are you kiddi – that whole thing! With – with Blake, the fucking moron, who was basically stripping you with his eyes! That was so unnecessary – ”

“You literally went on a date with your ex and you’re telling ME what’s unnecessary?! You – ”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Your neighbour from down the hall yells, and both you and Jay shut up. “NOBODY CARES ABOUT YOUR PROBLEMS YOU FUCKING MORONS!”

Jay scoffs, and turns to step down your hallway to your neighbour’s apartment when you reach out, grab him by his tee and unceremoniously drag him into your apartment. Slamming the door behind you, you turn to give him a piece of your mind.

“You’re the asshole who told me that we weren’t really together so it didn’t matter if you went out with your ex-girlfriend! So why the fuck is it a problem if I give my number out, huh?!”

Jay throws his hands in the air. “I’m sorry, okay! I didn’t fucking – I wasn’t thinking when I did what I did and I can see know that it probably really hurt you, but I swear I didn’t mean to do it. I didn’t want to hurt you; I just fucked up. But you – you went out of your WAY to piss me off – ”

“ALL I DID WAS GIVE OUT MY NUMBER – ”

“IN FRONT OF ME! TO SOME OTHER GUY! WHEN I – ”

The two of you jump when there’s loud banging on your door. “I’M CALLING THE FUCKING POLICE ON YOU TWO!”

Jay wrenches your door open and you see your pissed off neighbour on the other side. “I’M HER BOYFRIEND AND I’M THE FUCKING POLICE, SO YOU’D JUST BE CALLING ME!” He slams the door shut and turns, running his hands over his face.

“Okay, okay, we gotta stop yelling. Anyway, my point is – what?” Jay asks, as you stand unmoving, mouth slightly open.

When you eventually find your voice, all you can say is - “You’re my boyfriend?”

“That’s what I wanted to tell you – ” Jay smiles, reaching for you but you just step back.

“That you just decided you’re my boyfriend? Because this relationship is an autocracy?” You glare at him, getting angry again. The nerve of this guy!

Not that your heart didn’t practically soar when he called himself your boyfriend, but…

“No, no, we’re very democratic, and we should talk about this more, once we’re done with all the yelling.” Jay announces, and then he smiles. “I’m just saying I love you.”

“See, no, this is exactly the kind of issue with you - you just make decisions and act like you’re right and you can do whatever you want and you can go out with your ex if you want and that’s all supposed to be fine but the moment I – as a joke – hand out my number to some guy to give you a taste of your medicine, I’m the one who crossed a line and – wait, what?” You cut yourself off, confused if you’re hearing things.

“There we go,” Jay laughs, a fond smile etched on his face, as you finally process what he said.

“Did you just…did you just say you love me?” You ask, your voice soft as you step up to him.

“Yeah,” Jay’s grinning now, right in front of you. “I’m sorry it took me a while to realise it, but…I love you.”

You just blink at him for a couple of seconds, eyes starting to tear up. And then you punch him in the chest as hard as you can.

“Ow! What the fuck?!” Jay asks, eyes wide as he frowns, wholly confused.

“You fucking – fuck!” You whisper angrily, not wanting to piss off your neighbour again. “You had to fucking go out on a date with your ex-girlfriend and piss me the fuck off and make me make you jealous before you realised that you love me?!”

“I’ve been hit in the head multiple times…?” Jay shrugs apologetically.

“You’re an idiot.” You say, before cupping the back of his neck with your hand and pulling him down to press your lips together.

You can feel Jay smile through the kiss, bringing his hands up to cradle your face as he deepens the kiss, parting your lips. You’ve kissed each other many times before, in many ways – good morning pecks, in-the-middle-of-sex makeouts, teasing neck kisses – but something about this kiss is entirely new. It’s just…warm, and loving, and delicate and beautiful and just – just perfect.

When you pull apart, the two of you rest your foreheads against each other, smiling like dumb idiots.

“Jay?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you too.”

JAY HALSTEAD

NF Quarantine Visits

Requested: yes

Prompts: none

Warnings: none

Authors note: NF stands for necrotising fasciitis; Riley is your partner

"Look we're doing everything we can but there's no strong leads we can use right now." Jay informs Sharon Goodwin of CPD's latest news about the state of emergency the city of Chicago was currently in.

"I have people in quarantine Jay and the press isn't helping us at all." Sharon told him. "This isn't something out of the blue. Someone has to be behind this mess."

"We're doing everything we can but that's all I can give you right now."

"Incoming!" Maggie calls out. She swiftly joins the group. "We can't keep up Sharon."

"Is it NF?"

"Yes it is. Y/N and Riley are bringing them in."

At the mention of his girlfriend Jay's heart sunk. He knew how dangerous your job was on the daily but now he truly understood the pressure you had on your chest.

It only made him work harder in figuring out who is behind this mess.

He saw you a lot but never for long enough. After it was debunked that the virus is spread airborne or through contact, you were able to hug and kiss Jay quickly whenever the two of you saw each other at Med. But nothing more than that.

Jay worked late at the District and your 24-hour shifts were long and hard as they were. Adding the outbreak heavied on the both of you.

The sound of heavy footsteps coming from the entrance alerted everyone and soon people stepped aside to let you and Riley through.

"Jasmine Black. 23 years old with necrotising fasciitis. I think we'll need to amputate her leg. It's... Gone." You informed the nurses. They did their job with you and called Crockett Marcel, hoping that he will be able to save her.

Your worried eyes spot Jay and the only thing you can do is nod sadly. You've been exposing yourself to the bacteria continuously, and each time you risked your life for someone else's it never ended well. So far, you didn't bring anyone who came out of the OR alive.

And that broke you.

"Do you think she'll make it?" Sharon asked Riley and you when you joined their little circle.

"No we don't think she will," Riley started to explain. Jay wrapped his arm around your shoulder and supported you for as long as possible. Soon, you and Riley will be back in the outside world in the heart of the outbreak. "The bacteria spread out in her leg, it's impossible to try to save her without amputation. And even with that we can only hope that she survives."

"Oh God. How are you girls feeling?" Goodwin placed her hand on your forearms in a soothing matter.

"We're tired but okay." You told her.

"I should probably get back to the District. If you find anything that can help us call me." He squeezed your shoulder and removed his arm before you could even stop him.

On que, your radio informed you of your new victim. "That's our que."

***

"Sir you need to lie down!" You command the man you're currently bringing into the ED. His arm is infected but he doesn't waste a beat when trying to get off the gurney.

"N-No!" He screams. Like a fish, the man flops off the gurney and tries to get away in a wonky run chase.

"For God's sake!" Riley exclaims. "Sir you are stuffed with anesthetics! You can't get away from us!"

You shoot her a look of pure invitation to help and she joins you in the chase. Using your running skills you accomplished by taking daily morning runs with your boyfriend, you appear in front of the drowsy man and once again command him to stop.

He does not in fact listen to your sane reasoning and throws his weak body onto yours. That wouldn't be a problem had he not collapsed unconscious on your unprotected body.

***

"Seriously Nat I'm fine." After the intense chase with an angered-drowsy-on-anesthetics patient you're stationed in one of the trauma rooms with Natalie Manning.

While Nat keeps checking you for any cuts or scratches you stay still and think about what happens next. "Will you put me in quarantine?"

"Only if you have any cuts that can catch the bacteria." In that moment her eyes land on your palm. There's a small scratch and blood over the wound.

"I-I always wear gloves." You try to reason with her. You can't be stuck in quarantine. Not now. Not when they need you.

The look on Natalie's face is enough to tell you otherwise. "I'm sorry Y/N."

***

"Welcome Y/N. Trust me, it's cosier than it looks." You join Hailey in your separate four walled vertical rectangle box. Supposedly, this will keep you from spreading the bacteria if you have it. You won't know that until you get your cultures back. "So. What brings you here?"

You laugh lightly, suddenly realising how poor your luck is. "A dude with anger issues that was high on anesthetics with an arm eaten away by the bacteria threw himself on me during one of his many aggressive episodes, and collapsed unconscious. Leaving me and my scratched bloody palm alone in quarantine."

"Correction. You're not alone." She says laughing. "I take it Riley got away."

"She had her protective gear on. And since we're low on paramedics that go on these runs, they let her go." You bring your palm in the air and wave it around. "My palm and I are stuck in here until the cultures come back."

And that's how you spent countless of hours in deep discussion with your boyfriend's partner in crime. While Hailey wanted to join Jay in finding out who did this, you wanted to get back into your ambulance and help save lives.

Neither of you could do what you wanted so you took that time and started to get to know each other. You already have three girlfriend dates scheduled and a whole birthday party for Riley and Jay planned out in bits.

After your conversation faded into comfortable silence the two of you were lost in your own thoughts. You let yourself think about how Jay will react once he finds out. A part of you wants him to visit you as much as it wants him to stay away from you and stay safe.

You're halfway on the road to dreamland when you hear his voice. "Y/N?"

You watch him make his way towards you with only one eye opened. Opening both of them would mean taking 100 steps back from dreamland and that's the last thing you wanted to do at the moment.

But seeing him stand in front of you, separated by only a thin clear foil looking curtain, killed your wish for sleep making you stand up and almost sprint towards him.

"Are you okay? How did this happen?" He asked you, worry dripping from his voice.

"I'm fine and it's a long story."

"I have time."

"Baby no you don't." You tell him sternly. When the two of you enter a silent battle of eye emotions, he comes out of it as the winner. Sighing in defeat you start to explain what happened to you.

"We already went through a breakout attempt since certain people act like they're prisoners." You throw a nasty look toward Sharlene, the crazy lady who started a revolution within her rectangular box of protection. "Jay I'm fine! I'll stay here and take a few naps and be out before you know it."

Both of you lean against the colorless foil of protection until your foreheads meet. A part of you wants to escape your cloud of safety just so you can press your lips against his but you know better than to do that. Both you do.

"Call me when you get out?"

"Geez you make it sound like I'm in jail." Your attempt at being subtly funny an lightening up the mood falls in the water when you notice his stare. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'll call you don't worry."

"Good." Jay gives you a smile he reserves only for you. "I'll keep you posted."

"You better!!!" You exclaim. Your boyfriend is your only connection to the outside world.

"And I'll try to sneak in some food for you."

You almost shed a dramatic tear at his words. "Oh, Jay you're..."

"The best boyfriend ever?"

"The best boyfriend ever ever ever everrr!"

You spend a few more minutes with your boyfriend discussing the current situation before he talks to Hailey and eventually leaves.

Still dazed from love, worry and excitement, you return back to your sleeping position and walk back towards the road that's sure to bring you to dreamland.

MASTERLIST

Jay Halstead x Reader

Description: 7x10 Fix-It

Words: 2683

Warnings: Major Character Whump, Canonical Gore

Pairings: Jay Halstead x Reader

Your day was going like any other, though you hadn’t heard from Jay for almost a full day. It worried you, yeah, but not overly so that you thought something might be wrong. It was slow so far at the firehouse, glad for that. Recently, it seemed like you were getting slammed all the time. It was a nice change of pace.

You’d just finished up the second call of the day around two when your phone rang from your pocket as you climbed off Truck 81. You definitely weren’t expecting Hailey’s caller ID to be coming up on your phone.

“Hey, girl, what’s up?” you asked with a smile, taking your bunker pants and your boots off, your free hand holding onto the truck. You were glad for that, hearing her sniffling.

“It’s Jay, Y/N. He got shot. It’s-” She sniffled again, clearing her throat. “It’s not looking good.” You heard her choke back a sob, which brought tears to your eyes, panic filling your body. 

“Med?” you asked, needing to make sure you were going to go to the correct hospital.

“Yeah. You should hurry.” You nodded, as if she could see you before hanging up the phone. You shoved it back in your pocket before covering your mouth, your own sob catching in the back of your throat, echoing through the bay. You had to tell Casey you had to leave, you had to tell someone.

“Hey, you okay?” Severide asked, his hand coming down on your shoulder, pulling you out of your panic momentarily. 

“I have-It’s Jay. Med,” you answered, not able to get a full sentence out, hoping he got the jist of it. Which, by the look on his face, he did. 

“You go, I’ll tell Boden and Casey.” You nodded again before running out to your car. You didn’t care that your stuff was still in your locker, or that you were still in your fire shirt and tech pants. All you cared about was getting to Jay.

—–

“Hailey!” you called out, seeing her sitting in one of the waiting room chairs as soon as you ran through the door. She wasn’t the only one there. The entirety of Intelligence was there, as well as many other officers. But all you wanted was to talk to Jay’s partner, one of your closest friends. 

“Y/N,” she answered as soon as you got to her, standing up and bringing you into a hug. You saw a glimpse of the red staining her shirt, her hands, knowing exactly what it was. “I’m so sorry.”

“Just,” you pulled away to look at her. “What happened?”

“Angela Nelson, Marcus West’s wife is what happened.” She didn’t need to tell you anymore of the story, being able to piece it together on your own. The two of you sat next to each other, holding each other’s hands as you waited. You couldn’t help but drown out the sound of everyone else talking around you, eyes locked on the sliding glass door, waiting for somebody to come tell you something. 

—–

It couldn’t have been too much longer when you saw Will walk out. He looked defeated, but there were no tears in his eyes, so that had to be a good sign. Right? 

You and Hailey stood as the rest of the Intelligence team stood around Will, looking at him intently, waiting for some good news. 

“Hey everybody,” he said softly, looking at each of you. Until he locked eyes with you, knowing you were the most important person to Jay in the group. “I just talked to doctor Marcel. Uh. He said the bullet grazed an artery,” he began, vaguely motioning to his shoulder. “They’re still trying to repair it. But.” He shook his head, as if he was defeated.

“Will, is he going to be okay?” Voight asked, holding onto his vest as if it was the only thing that was keeping him there. Will swallowed hard, unable to keep eye contact with anybody. As much as you loved Jay, you knew Will loved him more. He was his brother, and had known him his whole life. It wasn’t fair to the man that he had to be the one to break terrible news about his own brother to people who had only known him a short time in the grand scheme of things. 

“He’s lost a lot of blood.” He gently shook his head, hand tapping on his thigh, unable to say anything else. You knew it wasn’t good. Will wasn’t even telling you they were doing everything they could. You knew this could be it, that you could lose him. “Y/N, can I talk to you?” 

“Yeah,” you agreed, following Will to the ED doctor’s lounge. He shut the door behind you, hand running over his face and through his hair with a deep sigh. “It’s not looking good, is it Will?”

“No,” he answered, eyes rimmed red as you saw tears drip down his cheeks. “He’s my baby brother, Y/N, and we might lose him.” The two of you embraced each other in a tight hug, both reluctant to let go. 

“I should probably go check on the others,” you finally said, wiping the tears from your eyes as you pulled away, sniffling.

“I’ll let you know when I have an update,” he assured you, nodding in agreement before you turned away from him.

You didn’t know what would happen if something were to happen to Jay, where that would leave you and Will. It wasn’t like you could blame him. He had nothing to do with what happened to Jay, or with how all of this might end. The thing was, though, he reminded you of Jay. And that was what scared you, because what if you weren’t able to handle that if something catastrophic happened?

You didn’t dwell on it for long, stopping to get a couple of coffees for you and Hailey on the way. A lot was on your mind, truly. 

“Here you go,” you said softly, handing her one of the coffees as you sat next to her, hand on her shoulder. You could see that she’d been crying, not able to blame her. It was a tough situation, and you knew it was even more complicated. 

“He’s going to freak out when he wakes up,” she told you. You knew she was talking to get her mind off the different possibilities, would have done the same if you could find the courage in yourself to talk at all. But you didn’t want to risk breaking down. 

“The man hates needles.” She shook her head silently with a smile. “I can’t figure him out. He’s the first one through the door, a war vet,” she said, seeming to not be able to stress the war veteran aspect hard enough. “And he’d rather take a bullet than get the flu shot.” She chuckled.

“Hailey. I know how hard this must be for you,” you replied softly, feeling a very similar pain. 

“It’s always hard when something like this happens,” she corrected. 

“It’s hard because you love him.” 

You didn’t care that she loved him. It was something that she’d never admit to you, despite being best friends. You both knew who he’d chosen, that it wasn’t going to change. But you couldn’t just deny her feelings because you were in a relationship with him. You both loved him, and the only thing you could do for each other while waiting for fate to decide what was going to happen was be there for each other. 

“Of course I love him. He’s my partner,” she answered, and you didn’t push it further. It was your way of letting her know that you knew, and that you didn’t care. It didn’t affect your relationship with her. Now, all the two of you could do was wait. 

—–

It felt like you’d just started to nod off in your seat when you felt a hand on your knee, opening your eyes to see Will kneeling in front of you. A quick glance outside showed the sun had already set, not sure how much time had passed. You didn’t want to look back at him, not sure what he was about to tell you. 

“He’s out of surgery,” he told you, voice just above a whisper. Again, you didn’t look at him, looking around to see who was still there. It was just Hailey. 

“Can I see him?” you asked, finally looking at him. It looked like he’d been crying, so you didn’t know what to expect. 

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” You didn’t understand, looking at him dumbfounded. Will stood up, you following suit as he walked you back to the doctor’s lounge again.

“Will, how bad is it?” you asked him, not sure what to expect. There was a lot you weren’t sure about when it came to this entire situation. 

“It’s not good, Y/N,” he answered, a hand running over a tired looking face. “He’s out of surgery, which in itself is a good thing. He lost a lot of blood, and they’re still giving him more. The bullet did a lot of damage though, to his shoulder. There’s a lot we won’t know until he wakes up.”

“Why can’t I see him then, Will?” That was what you really wanted to know, knowing Will wasn’t telling you the whole story. “What’s so bad that it would be a bad idea?” 

“After his surgery, they tried taking the breathing tube out, letting him breathe on his own. He didn’t. So they had to put it back in. Reintubation after a trauma is…It’s a bad sign about what his brain is doing. They’re saying it’s possible there wasn’t enough blood flow and oxygen to his brain, so he might have brain damage. Not to mention his skull is broken in three different spots. Plus, he doesn’t look like Jay right now with all of the bruising.” 

“None of that matters, Will. I want to see him,” you insisted. You’d deal with all of that when he woke up, because you were adamant that he would wake up. He was a fighter. Always had been, and that wasn’t going to change. “Please.” 

“Okay,” he agreed, leading you upstairs. As much as you wanted to see him, you were terrified. You didn’t know how bad it was, the only thing in your mind was what your imagination could come up with to fill in the blanks. Hailey had seen him, and by the amount of blood that stained her hands, you knew he’d bled a lot. 

The air in the ICU felt different, the energy a lot more somber than downstairs. Which was surprising, seeing as nearly the entirety of the CPD had come in and out of the waiting room throughout the day, checking to see if Jay was going to be okay. This was a different kind of somber. It wasn’t a waiting game, but more of a purgatory. Each person was caught between the living and the dead, and Jay was now one of them. 

“I’m going to head home for the night. Do you want me to bring you some clothes in the morning? I can get you some scrub pants to wear for the night so you don’t have to sleep in those pants,” he offered before you walked into Jay’s room. You wondered if Will had even seen his brother, knowing he probably hadn’t built up the courage to do it yet. 

“Yes please. I’ll text you if anything changes.” He just nodded, walking off to get you those pants.

You couldn’t help but hesitate with your hand on the door. It didn’t help that the door was made of a hazed glass, so you could see his silhouette in the bed, just no details. And you wished you could go back to that ignorance when you pushed the door open, your breath catching in the back of your throat and a sob building in your chest – one that you dare not let out. 

They’d taped together the cuts on his face. One looked like it had stitches just above his eyebrow. The bruising was what got to you. You’d figured since he’d lost so much blood, he wouldn’t have bruised. Afterall, bruises were just an accumulation of blood, right? But you’d been wrong. His arm was in a sling, the bulkiness of the surgical dressings visible under his gown. His eyes were closed, and he would have looked peaceful. If it hadn’t been for the tube down his throat and the whirring of the ventilator. 

“Oh my god,” you mumbled to yourself, covering your mouth with your hand. You wanted to walk to him, to hold his hand to make sure he was really alive. But fear held you firmly in your spot in the doorway. 

“You’re not going to break him,” Will assured you when he walked back in. You looked up at him, his eyes locked on his brother. Not like you could blame him. “Here’s those scrub pants for you. I’ll see you in the morning.”

You wanted to ask him to stay with you that night, but didn’t want to push it, knowing he was handling things his own way. When he left again, you changed into the scrub pants before sitting in the chair next to Jay’s bed on his good side so that you could hold his hand.

He was so cold, skin pale. There was no wonder why he had so many blankets piled on him, why the room was kept so warm. You could see the blood running into his veins, hoping it would help. 

“You’re going to be okay,” you told him, subconsciously for yourself. “I love you.”

—–

Eight days. He’d been in the ICU for eight days, and there seemed to be no change. His prognosis was looking pretty grim. Whenever you weren’t at the firehouse, you were at the hospital. It was rough on you, but you had to be there for him. In case…

“You should go home,” Voight told you when he walked in to see you slumped over on Jay’s bed, half asleep.

“Have to be here if he wakes up,” you answered, looking up at the older man, just getting a sigh and nod in return. He sat in the free chair on the other side of Jay, leaning back and looking at his detective. You closed your eyes again, not paying any attention to the Sergeant. That’s when you felt it. It was the tiniest of things, but it was the biggest thing that could happen. 

“Jay,” you said to him, sitting up, hand still firmly in his as he squeezed your hand again. “Baby, I’m here.” You gently stroked the side of his face. “Can you open your eyes?” 

It took a minute for his eyelids to flutter open, eyes meeting yours. He looked beaten, worn out, but it was a step in the right direction. His eyes weren’t open for long before he shut them again, relaxing back into the bed. You couldn’t help but smile, tears in your eyes. Maybe he would be okay after all?

—–

“Give me a big cough, Jay,” Marcell instructed three days later after Jay had passed all of the tests. He struggled, but Marcell was able to get the tube out. “Your throat is going to be sore for a few days, okay? Might not be able to talk very well.” Jay nodded, eyes half closed. 

All of this was rough on him, wearing out quickly. It was becoming pretty normal for him to only be awake for an hour at a time, if that. 

“You scared us, Jay,” you told him as he reached up to wipe the tears from your eyes with his thumb. “Don’t you ever do that again.”

“I’ll do my best,” he said slowly, softly. Just hearing his voice was enough to finally know that he was going to be okay. “I love you.”

The Rise of Wilford Warfstache Chapter One

In all of my years as a psychiatrist, I had never seen such a broken man. His head seemed to twist as he sat restless in the chair of my office. Through his rose colored glasses, he seemed to view the world around him as a falacy. Though he smiled, I sensed the pain growing inside of him as reality desperately scratched from within. Whatever had happened to him that night, it had truly shattered who he once was. I'd read about him in the papers before. Despite the media uproar about the accidental shooting of a fellow hunter during a safari, the man seemed to have had a steel shield against the criticism. Of course, that man had been injured, not killed. The question of whether or not Warfstache had actually murdered Mark Fischbach is still yet to be uncovered. I agreed, though reluctantly, to work alongside the CPD while they investigated the murder. As far as I knew, nothing else has been uncovered. The manor was locked up tighter than a drum, no one allowed in or out. In fact, as far as I was aware at that time, everyone involved had gone missing. By the time authorities finally arrived, there wasn't a soul on the grounds except for Warfstache. The staff had disappeared. The other guests were missing. Detective Abraham "Abe" Lincoln P.I., who was a guest the night Fischbach was killed, also disappered. The CPD had branded him as another suspect in the case because of this and have been searching for him since the day that Warfstache was brought in. From what I knew, he was another friend of Fischbach's, and not a direct employee of the Department. The deeper facts of the case had been locked away from me for the moment. I informed the Chief of Police as soon as I made my initial diagnosis of Warfstache that I would need to know the ins and outs in order to better help him as my patient. If HE didn't open up about what happened, perhaps they could at least shed some light on the subject. Until that time arrived, I was in the dark. When he first arrived...oh, I'll never forget the laughter. It had cut through the typical sounds of a psychiatric facility like a knife through warm butter. It rang and echoed about the sterile white halls toward my office and woke me up like a bugler at a military camp. I was used to the occasional bout of insane laughter, even the horrifying screams of the insane became background static after a while, but I will never forget that laugh. As the orderlies held on tight to either of the man's arms, he simply hung his head, shaking it back and forth, letting out a deep, belly laugh. It was as if he was having the time of his life. "It was all a joke!" he'd said. "It was just a big, guffaw!" I peered around the corner of my office door when I heard it and watched them slowly approach with him. His hair, a tangled, black, wet mass, danced about leaving drops of sweat on the floor below him as he walked. His arms strained in the straight jacket, making the orderlies on either side of him tighten their grip every now and then while still maintaining cold, straight faces. His feet seemed to tangle with one another as he walked, as if they had forgotten how to move forward. When they reached my office, the orderlies stopped and struggled to keep him still. He shook to and fro, breathless from his laughter. When he finally looked up at me, through the jungle of black hair I got a first glimpse at the eyes of my new patient. They were dark, but sad to me. The chocolate brown rings of his irises seemed to tear as the trauma behind them banged against them. At the same time, I could see the hope in his eyes that all of this madness was exactly what he perceived it to be: a big, sick joke. His thick, black moustache turned up hand in hand with his seemingly permanent smile. His wide grin displayed two rows of straight, well groomed, brilliantly white teeth. That smile swelled and dissipated with each deep breath he took. You'd think the man had done a mile run to get here. Pained though it was, it was such a pleasant smile. It was the smile of a broken man who only wanted everything to sort out. It was almost...pitiful to look at. "Hello, I am Doctor Miriam Antwood." I greeted him as pleasantly as I could. This was standard for me, I tried my best to seem a friend to my patients. Makes them more comfortable rather than having a stuffy, pompous, authoritative presence when their minds are already fragile. I left THAT to my colleague, Yousef Hillmeyer. At my introduction, Warfstache straightened up, stifling the spasms in his chest, and gave me a curt bow. "Colonel William Warfstache. My friends call me 'The Colonel', you are most welcome to do the same." As he spoke, his voice had a distinct vibrato. It was clear he was attempting to be polite, while also pushing down the inevitable laughing fits. After he introduced himself, he tightened his lips, though the corners jerked upward every now and again as he snorted and snuffed with the giggles. "It's a pleasure to make your accquaintance, Colonel." Of course, I was well aware of who he was before they brought him to me. I always receive empty patient files waiting to be filled whenever I do an intake. The police determine whether or not the person in particular is a candidate for psychiatric care, and once they do, they process them at the station and send their paperwork to us to be proccessed here. It's all very by the book, standard procedure and all that. "Do you like jokes, my dear?" Warfstache boomed, leaning forward toward me with a wink. His voice cracked, his throat clearly dry from the constant intake of breath to fuel his manic laughing fits. "Why, yes. I enjoy a good chuckle every now and again." I replied, smiling back at him. Warfstache threw his head back, letting out a hearty "HAW! HAW!" that hurt my ears. Then he slowly brought his chin back down, almost to his chest, and rose a brow at me. "Well, this one's a DOOZY of a lark!" "I'd like to hear all about it. Please." At this last word, I turned and held a hand out toward the chair adjacent to mine, beckoning him and the orderlies in. I crossed the room to sit and kept a watchful eye on them as they sat him down before me. One of them, the burlier of the two, gave me a knowing look that I returned as he stood behind Warfstache. The other, I dismissed. He seemed harmless enough for the time being. I allowed Phillip, the orderly who stayed behind, to remove his straight jacket. As it came off, he didn't seem to notice at all. Instead, he gave a few soft claps and shook his head, still chortling at this supposed "joke". "Now, Colonel," I began, preparing my regular lecture that I had memorized down to the very last word for new intakes. "I don't want you to view me as your doctor, but rather a friend you can open up to. Though, I advise you to remember that there are boundaries to this. As a man of your...considerable stature, I trust you know what I mean by this?" In reply, he merely smiled. He neither nodded nor shook his head, but simply analyzed me as I spoke. With a nervous cough, I continued on. "Er..My main goal here is to help you. I understand that the events of the past few days have been taxing, so I hope that nothing I ask you here will feel straining or pressuring on you. If there is anything you do not wish to talk about, we can save it for a later date. Just remember, the walls of this office are sealed tight, everything that we speak of stays within them." Warfstache turned slightly, side eyeing the orderly behind him. He choked on a laugh for a moment before returning his gaze to me. "Isn't that a funny joke lad?" He said, his voice rising and declining in volume and tone as he spoke. "It's all a joke you know!" The orderly raised an eyebrow at me. I held up my hand to him and addressed the concern that I sensed he was attempting to express. "You needn't worry about him. Phillip is a fine employee at our facility and he knows the rules. He's merely here to see that you're...comfortable." Rather than indulge me with a simple token of understanding or even a nod, Warfstache instead clenched his mouth shut, turned away, and clamped his eyes closed as he, again, fell prey to a fit of chuckles. Each one sounding like someone slapping a hot water bottle while they stayed confined to his chest. Regardless, I carried on. "Now...about this grizzly business at Markiplier Manor..." I moved on with caution as I noticed his eyes open and snap toward me. "Tell me, what is the joke? I would like to know what you find so hilarious. I'm quite curious." He turned toward me, his eyes crinkling against his wide smile. "It's a good one." he practically spit, the air of his gales bursting forth as he spoke. "Please, tell me." I urged, hoping to at least get this little bit of talk out of the way. "OH, it was a rousing little game. Almost like those you see at All Hallow's Eve parties as of late. Little mystery games, you see." His arms flew about as he spoke, dancing in the air as he made flambouyant hand gestures to match his story. "Typically, though, EVERYONE is in on it. But my old friend, Damien, he must've had the bright idea to throw a bit of fun at me. Oh, that Damien, he's been such a fine friend all these many years. It's a might childish, but boys will be boys, you know." As soon as the name 'Damien' left his lips, his seemingly happy demeanor appeared to crack. I hadn't a clue who Damien was at that moment, but whoever it was had obviously been close to him. Perhaps he was one of the guests who had disappeared? His smile began to falter, just slightly, but enough for me to notice. Even his eyes seemed to droop sadly as he continued on. Through his continuous laughter, I could hear his voice grow more and more pained. "Celine...Celine as well was in on the guffaw. They must have remembered that ghastly business with the safari...decided to use old Mark's party as the stage for a twisted little go around. I will say, the boy knows how to play dead among other things. Everyone pointed at me. 'He did it!' they all pinned it on me. Even that other chap, can't remember his name, decided to play dead for it all. Did a great job, I must say. Though, that fall must have hurt at least a smidge. No matter, the boy stood and walked like it was nothing but a school yard scuff!" "What boy are you referring to?" I asked. "Another guest?" "Oh, pardon my manners. The District Attorney, yes, he was another guest. Never met him before that night. Must've staged the whole thing with Damien and Celine. He was a good sport, he was. Fake blood and all. Must have used the sauce from the Chef's dinner. It was a hoot...I daresay it could still be going on. This must be a part of it, yes?" "I'm afraid not, Colonel. Your being sent here is far from a joke." I assured him, but he merely scoffed at me. "Oh come now!" he mocked. "Slapping me in cuffs, throwing on the old white coat, and dragging me off in a white van to a psychiatric facility? HAW! Old Damien must still be up to his tricks." Suddenly, mid rant, he turned to an empty portion of the room and continued to speak as though to a different person entirely. "Do you hear that? Not a joke. I daresay, perhaps these chaps aren't privvy to the whole matter, eh?" "May I ask who you're speaking to?" I inquired, but my voice seemed to go ignored. "Bully, bully indeed! This is quite the little ruse. H-here, look!" His eyes scanned my desk at these words, and before I could process what could have been going through his mind, Warfstache lifted my letter opener from my desk and swung it around to bury it between two of Phillip's ribs. I cried out in shock, I did not expect such a rash action. ”I can’t kill anyone! See!” As he held the letter opener against Phillip's side, he continued to let out howls of laughter. He pulled the blade from the poor boy and thrust it in again and again, twice before my cries alerted two other orderlies from the hall. "It's all fake! Look at it, you'll see! It's all a show!" Warfstache cried as the two orderlies who came rushing in restrained him. "We need a tranq!" I cried, rushing around my desk to see to Phillip, who now lay in a glistening pool of crimon as it seeped from his wounds. "I'm fine..." he said, shakily. Holding his hands to his ribs. I removed my coat and pressed it down onto the wounds. I turned to see that both orderlies and Warfstache were now on the floor. His legs kicked forward and back as he became lost in a suddenly saddening fit. I could see the roof of his mouth as his mouth remained agape with his cries. What had moments ago been fits of hilarity suddenly became mournful, gut wrenching sobs. "WHY?" he bellowed, his voice echoing throughout my office. "WHY DID YOU DO IT, LADS? WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?" Another orderly rushed in from the hall, a large syringe of tranquilizer in his hands. The two holding Warfstache down pushed down harder to keep him still as the needle disappeared beneath his flesh. Suddenly, his cries came to a grinding halt and his body went limp. "Take him to his room. Make absolutely certain that there is nothing in there he can harm someone with. Keep the straight jacket on him from now on." I ordered. Each of the orderlies nodded as they lifted his now limp, tired body from the floor. His head slumped forward onto his chest, and I could hear a slight whimper as they carried him off, his feet grinding across the floor. The third orderly helped me get Phillip off of the floor and the both of us proceeded to take him down the hall to our infirmary. As we exited my dark, dingy office to the bright white lights of the hallway, I turned to watch Warfstache being carted off to the elevators. His body lolled back and forth as the two men beside him struggled to maintain his now dead weight. I could almost hear a soft sob echo from him against the walls as I turned away, focusing on getting this poor man some aid. I thought then that perhaps I now knew what I was in for with him as a patient. If only I knew how wrong I had been then. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The City Psychiatric Facility for the Criminally Insane FILE #1192012 Patient Name: Col. William "Wilford" Warfstache Primary Psychologist: Dr. Miriam Antwood, MD Secondary: Dr. Yousef Hillmeyer, MD Patient Intake: Dr. Miriam Antwood, MD First Impression Diagnosis: Patient brought in in a state of hysteria. Laughing maniacally to himself, repeating the same phrase ("It was all a joke") over and over. Possible Borderline Personality Disorder or traumatic onset Psycopathy? Signs of late onset schizophrenia. or possibly  Talks to people who aren't there sometimes. Refers to someone named "Damien" a lot during first conversation. Patient was brought in after authorities scoured Markiplier Manor upon news that Mark "Markiplier" Fischbach had been murdered during a gathering with friends. Attempted to ask William about this, refused to acknowledge. Will further attempt to breech the subject as we proceed. Patient had to be subdued via tranquilizers at the end of first meeting. Attempted to stab an orderly with my letter opener shouting "Look, I can't kill anyone! I'll prove it.". Sign of Antisocial Personality Disorder? Definitive sign of psycopathy. As previously stated, induced by traumatic event. Patient was taken to room 0628.

Patient Item Inventory: One pair of glasses with attachments, one pair suspenders (red), one pair khakis (tan), one pair boots (black), one button up shirt (yellow, white collar/cuffs), one 44. magnum pistol (siezed by The City Police Department)

Initial Prognosis: Therapy sessions three times per week alongside Fluphenazine (2.5 mg to start every 6-8 hours), Lorazepam (2 mg to start 2 times per day), and Trifluoperazine (3 mg to start, 2 times per day) These may change as patient progresses or degresses.

--------------------

Author's Note:

Hello all! Welcome to the first chapter of my Markiplier fan fiction. As you may have guessed, this is post "Who Killed Markiplier?" And this goes off of my theory of what happened. I will, to the best of my ability, keep things Canon in most areas. In others, I'm going to take some creative liberties. BUT regardless, I hope everyone enjoys :) I expect to be pretty frequent with this, if there are times that I'll be absent I'll be sure to let you all know. Thanks for reading!