This is a One-Shot, based off of a comment from the lovely cpdcfcmed7410 on Tumblr, I hope this does your comment justice! :)

Feel free to drop me a review! I hope y'all enjoy!

S/N: This fic may not be accurately correct (you can only research so much), this fic is purely for entertainment purposes.

He hates days like today. Hates the week that has gone by too soon, in the blink of an eye. He feels as though he is standing still, while the world continues to move at a non-stop pace around him. But he stops his thoughts before they get the better of him, taking him back there, the place that has taken him years to get over and heal. He shakes the thoughts from his head, turning off the faucet of the shower and stepping out, wrapping a towel around his lower half before walking over to the sink, quickly trimming a few stray hairs of his clean shaven face, before applying his aftershave, throwing on some deodorant and brushing his teeth, throwing a little gel into his hair and styling it with a comb. He steps out of the bathroom, making his way across the room, glancing towards the freshly shined black dress shoes that lay on top of a large cardboard box on the unscathed bed with a black leather belt.

'Fuck. I can't do this, not today.' He thought to himself, as he continued on with his motions, walking over to his dresser, sliding on his Michael Kors watch, the one he bought on a whim after Ben died, snapping the latch of the metal band in place. Click. That little noise was just enough to take him back, take him back to one of the many memories he would like to forget.

"Shit, I could go for a beer right now." Bradley whined.

"Do you do this much whining when you're at home princess? I don't see how your woman can put up with that." Jay laughed at the rookie as they made their way back to base from the location they had successfully breeched.

"Oh she doesn't, I get punished for it. All. Night. Long." The rookie came back, resulting in a few whoops and pats on the back from others in the unit.

"All right, enough." Commanding officer Jackson ordered.

The group was all smiles as they got closer to base, that was until the ringing of a phone, busted the bubble.

"Alright, that was Commander Richardson, there is some suspicious activity happening in the old hospital, they want us to go check it out." Jackson informed the group, placing his satellite phone back into his vest pocket.

"Fuck, Mouse, what are we looking at?" Jay asked as the Hum-Vee cautiously approached the hospital.

"Satellites are showing four warm bodies on the top floor, image is blurry, cannot give you much more than that." Mouse spoke through to the team through the headset.

The Hum-Vee pulled up to the front of the abandoned three story hospital, and the team stepped out, weapons drawn. The non-existent sounds coming from the eerie buildings around them, causing the hair to stand up on the back of their necks, sending them on high alert. They breeched the building, each going their separate ways to clear the first floor. Jay cleared the last room on the floor, making his way over to the stairs, meeting up with the rest of the unit.

"Halstead. You and Bradley take the west wing. Jones and Harrison, take the East. Manning and I will take the North." Jackson ordered out.

Jay made his way down the hall, the hairs on his neck and arms still standing at anticipation and fear as adrenaline coursed through his veins. He began clearing the left side, room by room, Bradley on the right side, doing the same. They made it to the last room, clearing it, before heading back to the door of the stairs. They waited for the rest to finish clearing their assigned areas, they were no more than thirty seconds behind, as they silently agreed to proceed forward to the last floor. Commander Jackson pushed the door back, and the rest of the unit made entry first, leaving Jay to take up the rear. He walked into the small space, his gun drawn, he used the sleeve of his jacket, to wipe away the sweat that had formed in copious amounts from the heat on his forehead, and under his safety glasses, before making his way up the steps. Click. He heard the familiar sound of a pin being pulled.

"GET DOWN." He yelled as he jumped back and down the stair case towards the first floor as the hard metal dropped to the concrete staircase.

That was the last thing he remembered, after receiving a concussion and waking up back at base, finding out that two of his fellow comrades were not as lucky.

Jay shook his head, to clear is mind of the nightmare, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall. 'I will not break, not today.' He mentally told himself as he sat down on the mattress, reaching for the metal chain that held two thin pieces of metal from the nightstand next to his bed, sliding them over his head, letting them fall against his chest.

Jay gathered his thoughts and emotions, standing up from the bed, walking over towards his closet. It was in the very back, covered in a black trash bag that he had threw over the clear one. He couldn't stand to look at it, every time he would open his closet, there it was taunting him, mocking him over the ones he couldn't save, the ones where he carried their blood on his hands.

He pulled the hanger off the rack, walking back over to the bed and throwing it down onto the mattress before going to his dresser, finding a pair of boxers and throwing them on. He glanced at the clock sitting on the nightstand, the bold red numbers telling him he had to be there in an hour. He refused to be late, and was rarely late when he had somewhere to be, being up at the crack of dawn comes with the territory that came from being a Ranger.

With a trembling hand, he held onto the hanger, pulling off the sheets of plastic that kept it clean and looking like new. Looking like new. He has proudly dressed and worn the uniform countless times, to galas and balls, to inaugurals and ceremony's, even to a wedding, but the number that continues to grow, is the one he wishes would stop, the number of times he has put on the uniform for a funeral is forever etched into his memory. Twenty-three. Twenty-three times he has thrown on the uniform, and offered his condolences to the wife, mother or girlfriend of the fallen, holding them as their tears soaked through the dark blue fabric, silently wishing that it was him in his fallen comrade's place. Nine times has he kneeled down the small child that was holding onto mom's hand for dear life, being punched in the gut as the child who looks just like their father, right down to the very last curl on their head, asks "When is daddy coming home? I want to see daddy." Only to choke up and offer a small smile as he blinked back the tears, telling them "You'll see him another day, he is watching over you now." Before getting up and walking out the door, vowing never to go back in there, never to do it again, but he does, because that is who he is.

He slides the dark navy blue pants off the metal first, grabbing them before they fall to the ground, careful not to let a spick of dirt cling to the fabric. He gracefully slides them on, grabbing the black leather belt from on top of the bed, sliding the leather through the loops. Grabbing a pair of black socks, he slides them on, pulling them up as far as they each would go before grabbing the polished dress shoes and slipping into them. He grabs the white collared shirt as he makes his way over to the full length mirror placed against the far wall, he checks the presentation, inspecting for creases and wrinkles in the fabric, relived to find none, that would result in immediate ironing. He throws on the thick white collard dress shirt, fumbling with the plastic buttons as he slides each one into their place, only then realizing he missed a button and he starts all over.

He glances at the clock once again, realizing how fast time is moving, or maybe he has just slowed. He slides one of the last articles of clothing needed off the hook, the thick dark blue jacket weighs like a ton of bricks in his hand as he slides his right arm in the sleeve, followed by his left in the other. He grabs a black tie from the tie rack hanging in his closet, sliding the smooth material around his neck and under the collar of his shirt. 'Shit.' He thought to himself as he tried to remember how to tie the fabric. After the fifth attempt, he left it like it was and quickly buttoned the thick dark blue fabric together. He walked back over to the dresser, opening up two of the black velvet boxes sitting on top. The first box, holds a black name plate, J. Halstead, etched into the metal, along with a crest, signifying his branch of the army. The second box held various smaller pins and badges, of varying color. The insignias representing various accomplishments and pertinent information, while the badges represented his division and various awards. He pins the necessary information to his uniform, before grabbing his wallet, comb and keys from on top of the dresser, throwing it into the various pockets on his uniform, double checking the brass now attached to the jacket, to make sure it was free of fingerprints.

"You ready?" he heard a familiar female voice ask from behind him, as she walked into the bedroom.

"You don't have to do this you know." His voice lowly rasped.

"I know, but I want to." She told him, placing her hands on his shoulders from behind.

He nodded his head, before slipping out of her hold, walking over to the mirror and fumbling with his tie once more, mentally cursing himself for letting his emotions get the better of him. 'This isn't me.' He told himself as he took in his appearance.

"You look good." She told him, as if she knew what he was thinking. "But the t-shirts and jeans are more your style."

"Damn it! I can't get this fucking tie to… tie." He laughed to himself, shaking his head which blocked out the sound of heels walking across the hardwood floors.

"You didn't seem to have a problem the other night…" she smiled as she stepped in front of him, grabbing the fabric from his hands, effortlessly looping and weaving the thin material together before making a knot and tightening it up to his neck. She leaned up, his six foot three muscular frame still towering over her five foot four petite figure, even in her three inch red pumps, she placed a gentle kiss on his lips.

"What did I ever do to deserve you?" he thought aloud as his hands grasped her waist, pulling her closer.

"Disobey a direct order." She laughed "You know, I ask myself that question every day." She smiled, placing a meaningful kiss on his lips. "We're going to be late."

Jay slipped out of the embrace, walking over to the large cardboard box on the bed, removing the lid. Inside, neatly folded were a pair of pearly white gloves, with a flattened out blue aiguillette and black service cap. He lifted the aiguillette out, slipping it onto his left shoulder, latching it into place before reaching for the cap, placing it on his head. He grabbed the white gloves, slipping them on one hand at a time, before he turned around.

As he turned around, Erin couldn't help but feel sorrow and pain at the sight before her. He hated to put on the uniform, hated all the memories that it drug up, hated that it would take him a few days to recoup from the emotions of the day. She took in his appearance, the freshly polished shoes, the creaseless dark dress pants, the shine of the medals and pins hanging on the thick dark blue jacket, the shine coming from the visor of his cap; but most of all she took in the varying emotions on his face, the suit brought out his eyes, but did nothing to hide the few dark bags hanging underneath from his sleepless night, it highlighted the freshly shaven skin of his jaw, where she could see a few remnants of toilet paper still clinging to his skin.

She walked over, gazing into his glossy eyes, as her hand gently touching his cheek, thumbing the paper away, before her hand traveled down his arm, taking his gloved hand into hers, as she pulled him out of the bedroom and towards the front door. She could feel the tenseness of his muscles as they walked down the hallway and stairs towards the street, to the waiting Chrysler. Jay removed his hat, as they got into their respective sides, Erin casting him a worried look as she cranked the engine and made their way down the snowy street towards the site of the burial. Jay said nothing, keeping his focus on the world that was passing around them, one hand tightly clenching his hat as the other switched between resting on his forehead and chin, he was trying not to think, trying not to break, but it seemed like every little thing was removing a scab off a wound from the past. He gave up, determining that closing his eyes and listening to the catchy tune on the radio would keep him grounded. His right leg began impatiently bouncing as they hit one of the more treacherous side roads, thoughts of the past, of bone dry dirt roads began to invade his thoughts. He was tempted to grab the handle of the car and jump out, thinking that maybe that would be the best way out, but his thoughts melted away as he felt a hand on top of his, giving it a gentle and reassuring squeeze before he relaxed and intertwined their fingers, giving her a slight squeeze of the hand.

It felt like they had been traveling for hours when they arrived to the cemetery, pulling up behind a row of cars. Erin let go of Jay's hand and turned off the engine. Jay continued to sit in the leather seat, taking in the scenery around them, looking at the rows and rows of marble and granite that idolized the dead, leaving nothing but the name, birth date and death date, sometimes a picture or quote, etched into the rock, the various types of fake flowers, covered in the freshly fallen snow that decorating each plot with color, along with a few American Flags placed throughout, here and there, representing his fallen brothers and sisters. He glanced out his window, a grave near them catching his eye, but it wasn't the fresh bouquet of flowers or the older ones pushed to the side wilting away that got his attention, it was the blonde headed female, dressed in thick winter clothing, sitting up against the cold stone, with her head buried in her lap. He fought the urge to jump out, and comfort the mourning stranger, to just wrap his arms around her, telling her that everything would be ok, even though he didn't know this woman from Adam.

"Jay?" Erin asked, pulling him out of his thoughts with concern lacing her voice.

"I can't do this." He voiced, as he continued to stare out the window, before he turned to face Erin.

Erin felt her heart break, the man who had been her rock, countless times in the past, was falling apart in front of her. She reached across the center console, taking the side of his face into her palm, thumbing away the few tears that had fallen, before she leaned into him, pressing her forehead against his.

"You can." She told him with confidence in her voice "You know, someone once told me that we cannot stop death, that sometimes, those that we love, have to go ahead of us to make sure the journey is safe. That sometimes, we need an extra guardian angel or two to keep an eye on us and help us get through whatever maybe lying on the road ahead." She said as she placed a light kiss on his forehead. "You can do this Jay, if not for yourself, then for his family."

"He was like a brother to me Er." Jay said as he wiped the fresh tears away.

"I know."

"He would have loved you, he used to always bust my balls about how I needed to get my head on right, and quit acting like a fool, that if I didn't I was going to end up single, living in Mouse's basement, with six Siberian huskies named after each of the guys to keep me company." Jay laughed.

Erin laughed, rolling her eyes "Let's go." she told him, giving him a quick peck on the cheek before stepping out of the car.

The wind was blowing the fresh fallen snow around, as she made her way around the car to meet Jay, taking his hand into hers as he placed his cap back onto his head.

They walked down the paved road, coming upon a large group of people. Many were dressed like Jay, in their dress blues, along with various a few people donning black dress suits, with women in various styles of black dresses and Sunday formal wear.

Jay stopped him and Erin towards the back, feeling a tap on his shoulder, he dropped Erin's hand and turned around.

"Mouse?"

"Jay?" Mouse said back in a questioning tone.

"What are you doing-" Jay stopped himself short, correcting himself "You never attend these things." he said in a low voice.

"I know, but things change, he was my friend too." Mouse told him, placing a hand on Jay's shoulder as they edged forward.

They made their way towards the front, exchanging pleasantries with other people in the crowd as they waited in line.

"Laura..." Jay told the dark haired woman standing in front of the chestnut colored coffin, as he wrapped her into a hug.

"Thank you for coming Jay and Greg" she said as she pulled back, and acknowledged Mouse, who continued to keep his distance "you are... we're two of Bradley's best friends..." the woman said as she held back a sob. "Is this your girl?"

Jay smiled "Yeah, Laura Erin, Erin Laura."

"Bradley told me that you we're getting serious with some babe." Laura laughed "It's nice to meet you Erin." She said as she extended her hand, to which Erin accepted.

"Where's Keri and Michael?" Mouse asked, changing the topic.

"They are running around here somewhere, they really don't know what's going on, at four years old, it is just a lot to process." Laura told them, looking around for the rambunctious twins, as someone stepped around the three, offering their condolences to the new widow. "Listen, don't be a stranger, neither of you." she told them as they began to walk away to take their seats.

The three of them, quickly found three empty seats in the back, away from all the commotion. Erin, cuddling into Jay's side as a strong gust of wind, sent shivers down her spine.

Other people around them found seats and the ceremony got started, multiple people speaking about Bradley, varying from his childhood, to when he met Laura and other significant life events.

"At this time, we ask that you all please stand." Erin grabbed onto Jay's gloved hand, holding onto it for dear life, preparing herself for what was about to come. Eight men, dressed in their formal service uniforms, marched several feet away from the casket and the crowd. Jay and Mouse as well as the rest of the men that were dressed in uniform raised their hand in salute. Seven of the men held rifles, as the eighth man commanded them "Ready. Aim. Fire." he told the, doing as instructed, cocking the rifle, pulling it up into position, aiming at the sky, before they each pulled the trigger in-sync. The loud blast of the blank causing several in the crowd to jump at the echoing noise. "Ready. Aim. Fire." he instructed as the repeated the process once again, "Ready. Aim. Fire." he instructed one last time. The soft sound of a trumpet began playing the familiar wretched lullaby and the men dressed in uniform continued to salute. The tune continued, not leaving a dry eye within hearing distance, as two men dressed in their service uniforms, marched in-sync over to the casket and began folding the American Flag that was draped on top, folding it twelve times before kneeling and handing the folded fabric Laura, who grabbed it and clutched it to her chest as her sobs filled and echoed off the stones. Erin squeezed Jay's hand, as the chaplain said a closing prayer and row by row the seats began to clear.

"You want to meet for a beer at Molly's?" Mouse asked as they headed back towards their vehicles.

"Nah, maybe tomorrow night man, I am beat." Jay said as he pulled Erin in close.

Mouse nodded his head, telling Erin and Jay that he would see them tomorrow.

"You sure you don't want to go?" Erin asked as Jay pulled back off the black hat, before sitting back down into the car.

"Yeah, I'm good." Jay said as he closed his eyes, the recent events and sleepless nights taking a toll on him emotionally and mentally.

He closed his eyes, for what he thought was a fraction of a second, but when he opened them back up, they were back at his apartment.

Jay trudged out of the Chrysler, Erin following behind, as they climbed the stairs, and walked the hallway back to his apartment in silence.

Jay unlocked the door, as they both stepped in, shutting it behind them. Erin kicked her heels off beside the table at the door, before walking over to the fridge, grabbing two beers, popping the metal caps off of both, picking hers up and taking a long drag as Jay headed back to the bedroom.

He took off his gloves, checking to see if they were dirty, before placing them back into the open cardboard box, placing his black cap in beside, back into their previous positions, before unlatching and removing the aiguillette, placing it into the box and closing the lid with all its glory before picking up the box and moving it back into his closet, sitting it back into the dust void on the top shelf. He kicked off the now scuffed dress shoes, picking them up and placing them on the rack in his closet. He emptied out his pockets before slowly removing the insignias and badges from the front of his suit, placing them back into their respective black velvet boxes. He unbuttoned the heavy jacket, gently throwing it onto the bed before loosening his tie and unbuttoning the white collared shirt, smoothing each of the larger items out before placing them back onto the coat hanger. He loosened the belt, pulling it out of the loops, before grabbing the tie and hanging both back up on the racks in the closet. The pants fell to his ankles, stepping out of them and brushing them off of any stray hairs or dirt, before he folded them neatly and folded them onto the hanger. Reaching for the pair of sweatpants crumpled in the corner, throwing the comfortable fabric on. He reached across the bed, grabbing the clear plastic bag and sliding it on top before grabbing the black trash bag and doing the same, the metal dog tags rattling as the fell back against his chest. He looked down at the plastic in his hand, thinking about the uniform that lies beneath, the one that he has now wore to twenty-four funerals. He makes a promise to himself to never wear it again, to push it back on the rack as far as it would go in the closet, to let it become a forgotten memory, a thing of the past, that should never be brought up again. But, he knows that what he is telling himself isn't true, that the words his mind keeps feeding him is false and accusatory information, that there will come another day he will have to put on the uniform, for a twenty-fifth time.

He hangs the metal back onto the rack, back into the far corner of his closet, shutting the door, willing the memories to go away as he walked out into the living room of his small mustard color walled apartment, finding Erin stretched out on the couch, watching some infomercial on the television. She offers him the beer she opened earlier as he sits down beside her, he accepts the cold brew, taking a long sip of the amber liquid, before pulling Erin into his side, nuzzling her hair. The events of the day and the uniform that he had to don, temporarily forgotten.

For some, the uniform is just a part of the package, it is feared because of what it means, and sought out because of what it represents. To other's it is a monkey suit, nothing but politics and war. But to Jay, putting on the uniform is not dreaded, nor is it coveted, but rather it is a choice, a choice that gives him courage and honor, that represents what the great nation that he served has been through and the bravery of those that had passed serving their country. He doesn't expect to be commended and praised for his actions, nor does he want to be. But no matter the circumstances, no matter the reasoning, he is proud to be a former ranger of the third battalion, seventy-fifth regiment, he is proud to be a soldier, he is proud to wear the uniform.