TIES THAT BIND, Jay Halstead

004.

It reminded Jay too much of himself.

As the day wore on, Jay could feel his patience running thin. They’d spoken to witnesses, dug into the victims’ pasts, but the puzzle was still incomplete. Each new piece of evidence seemed to come with another thread that pulled him deeper into a past he hadn’t wanted to revisit.

They were standing in a cramped apartment, questioning a witness—a former army buddy of one of the victims—when things started to unravel. The man was jittery, obviously struggling to get his thoughts out. Jay could feel his patience cracking, his nerves raw. The sweat on his brow had nothing to do with the heat anymore. It was the way the man was stuttering, how he was barely holding it together. Jay’s mind began to race.

“Come on, man. Spit it out,” Jay growled, his voice rising before he could catch it. His hand clenched at his side, the nails biting into his palm.

Alba glanced at him sharply. She didn’t say anything, but the look she gave him made his stomach churn. It wasn’t the first time he’d snapped like that, but it felt different this time—more noticeable, more dangerous. He could feel the weight of her gaze, the silent reproach. He hated himself for it.

The witness flinched, his eyes darting nervously between Jay and Alba. The tension in the room was thick enough to choke on. Alba took a step forward, her voice cool and commanding.

“Jay, let him breathe. We’re not getting answers by pressuring him.”

Her words cut through the haze in his head. He wanted to argue, wanted to lash out, but he bit his tongue instead. He took a step back, exhaling sharply through his nose, trying to force himself to calm down. His heartbeat pounded in his chest. The pressure was too much. Every word from the witness felt like it was slipping through his fingers. He couldn’t keep his mind focused. The case brought back bad memories. His thoughts drifted back to his time in the army—how it had been all about control, the mission, and now, here he was, losing control again. He hadn’t even realized how tightly his hand was gripping the table until he let go, forcing his fingers to relax.

Alba continued the interview smoothly, but Jay barely heard a word she said. His mind was elsewhere—lost in the churning memories of blood, sweat, and the sound of gunfire that had once filled his every waking moment.

Later that night, back at the hotel, things didn’t improve. Jay had barely eaten, the stress of the case and the memories building on him, suffocating him. His fingers itched again, and his breath was shallow. He sat on the bed, trying to push the tension from his neck, but it wouldn’t go away. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw flashes—visions of the past, blurry and haunting. He had only been in the BAU for a couple of weeks, but it felt like he had been carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders since the moment he joined.

Alba was sitting at the desk, reviewing the case files, her back to him. Her movements were sharp, deliberate, as always. She didn’t notice when he stood, pacing the room, his mind a whirl of frustration. Every nerve in his body was alive, but the electricity was wrong. It was frantic.

“You’re not fine,” Alba’s voice came from behind him, cold but direct. She wasn’t asking. She was stating.

Jay froze, his stomach tightening. He didn’t respond immediately. The urge to snap back was there, but he suppressed it. His muscles tensed, his hands clenched.