Author's Note: Oh man, that finale! So emotional, amazing acting by Sophia Bush and Jason Beghe. Goodness. I had to write this because this is what I thought was going to happen in the final scene of the finale. Enjoy, and please leave a review! This story is just a one shot (I might add an epilogue), but I'm already considering writing another fic based off of the finale.
"Hank!" she yelled at him, rain pouring down around them. "Justin wouldn't want this, you know that!" She had hoped the fact that his son had died trying to do something good, to protect a friend, would make him see reason, make him want to honor his son's memory. But the only memory Hank could see was his boy shot and tied up, left to die in the trunk of his car, and Justin taking his last breaths as life support was disconnected.
"Leave," he commanded simply, his eyes never leaving Kevin's, the man who murdered his son.
He was going to throw everything away with this one action. "Think about Olive and Daniel! Think about what this would do to the family you still have left!" she shouted, fighting to be heard, to get through to him. The rain was beginning to soak through her beanie and her jacket, chilling her to the bone. "They need you!" She choked back the tears that wanted to break free. She stepped into his line of sight, into the path of the gun. "I need you!" she pointed at herself, ignoring how desperate her voice sounded. Hank wasn't the only one who lost someone, she grew up with the Voights when they had taken her in. She babysat Justin, walked him to school, made him dinner, comforted him while they watched Camille slowly dying from cancer, and protected him. Justin was her younger brother in every way except by blood. And now he was gone. She had lost Teddy when she was younger, only recently finding him again to have both him and her mom pull a disappearing act on her, and now she had lost the only other sibling she had ever known. The only family she had left was Hank.
Hank's eyes finally locked onto to hers, recognition of her pain dawning his eyes. As quickly as it had come, it was gone again, replaced by a coldness that made her shiver. "Erin, get back in your car and go," he ordered, his voice hard.
She shook her head, wet locks of hair bouncing from side to side, "no."
"Move!" he raised his voice to her, his face growing red.
"I'm not going to let you do this! I'm not going to let you ruin your life over this bastard!" she gestured behind her to the murderer who had gone oddly silent since Erin had arrived. "Killing him isn't going to bring Justin back!" Despite her best attempts, twin tears leaked out of her eyes at the mention of Justin's name, at voicing the truth. They streaked down her face, mixing with the rain until the two became indiscernible from each other.
Hank gritted his teeth, "I said move!" he screamed, shoving Erin out of the way.
She stumbled, catching herself before she slipped in the mud. Her mouth parted, shocked that he actually put his hands on her, literally pushing her away. When he had first taken her in all those years ago, he made a promise to her, that he would never hurt her, he would never lay a hand on her. He knew her history, knew about all of the beatings she had received. While the physical action of Hank pushing her away didn't hurt, it made her heart ache. Was he really that blinded by grief that he would take it out on her? She stared into his eyes once more. They were focused solely on Kevin, his finger itching to pull the trigger. She couldn't see any emotion in them except for rage, an anger that fueled his need for vengeance. He wouldn't rest until his son's killer was dead and buried in the ground. He couldn't even see what was right in front of him and those who still needed him here. She felt nauseous, struggling to refrain from emptying what contents remained in her stomach. His eyes no longer held a warmth to them, that 'tough love' she was used to seeing. Hard lines etched into his face, a permanent scowl. Justin's death had pushed him over the edge. Realization crashed into her like a wave: he was too far gone. She couldn't reach him. She wasn't enough.
Hank watched Erin out of the corner of his eye, saw the moment when she resigned herself to his choice, and watched as she walked away from him. She opened the car door, sliding back into the driver's seat without another word. With her out of the way, he could finish what he started. A small part of him knew he should feel remorse for shoving Erin, for breaking his promise to her, but he just couldn't seem to find it in himself to care. Kevin called out Erin's name, clinging onto the hope that she would come back and convince Hank not to kill him. Already having lost his son to this man, Hank snarled at hearing him speak his adopted daughter's name. He cocked the gun, aiming it at Kevin's head, relishing in the knowledge that soon he would take this man's life away from him like he had taken Justin from Hank. A loud gunshot sounded, its echo muffled by the rain. The bullet entered Kevin's head, exiting the back of his skull in a spray of blood and brain matter. Kevin fell limply to the ground, into the hole he had dug for himself both literally and figuratively.
Hank's eyes grew wide, his gun never having fired. His gaze shifted to his right. Erin stood in front of her car, arms still outstretched, her gun still poised. The sight of her and the realization of what she had done was enough to break him out of his reverie. He didn't think it was possible, but his heart broke even more. Hank rushed to her side. The blank look in the normally empathetic woman's eyes frightened him. It didn't seem to fully register with her that she had killed a man in cold blood, execution style.
Now that Kevin was dead, now that what was driving his need for vengeance was laying in the mud, the fog in his mind began to dissipate, allowing him to be able to think and feel again. The resignation he had seen in Erin earlier was not her coming to terms with Hank's decision, but rather her resigning herself to her own fate. She was saving Hank from himself, protecting him, and he had been too wrapped up in his revenge to see it. Fear gripped him at what would happen to her now: if anyone ever found the body or the bullet it would easily be traced back to his team and specifically to Erin and her weapon.
He grabbed her by the shoulders, trying to get some sort of reaction from her, "damn it Erin! What have you done?!"
"What I had to do," she answered, her voice monotone. She pulled out of his reach, turning her back on him. He couldn't seem to be able to do anything but watch her form retreating into the rain.