Title: So This Is Christmas

Author: ZombieJazz

Fandom: Chicago PD

Disclaimer: I don't own them. Chicago PD and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Ethan has been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.

Summary: The Voights attempt to have a happy holiday season while continuing to deal with Ethan's health challenges, the changing family dynamic with new additions to the family, and Erin's growing relationship with Jay Halstead. This is a short set of chapters set after the Interesting Dynamics story of this AU.

SPOILER ALERT: There are some minor spoilers in this story related to the outcome and upcoming chapters of Interesting Dynamics. Likely nothing entirely unexpected, but you've been warned.

"Hank, I don't know anything about videogames," Erin sighed into the phone, putting her elbow on the table and her hand against her forehead. She felt like they were talking in circles. She listened again as he rattled off the names of a couple games she'd never heard of.

"Do you want to talk to Jay?" she offered, only to glance across the table at him and to see him hold up his hands in protest and shake his head forcibly in a 'no'. She gave him a glare. "He knows about videogames," she directed firmly more at Jay than Hank.

"Ruzek," Jay hissed at her through gritted teeth.

She rolled her eyes at him. "He says to call Ruzek. Adam will know exactly what twelve year olds like when they play Nintendo."

"Xbox," Jay said at her annoyed.

"Whatever," she muttered. Apparently Hank thought that was directed at him and barked something else at her about who she was with – and where she was. "Yeah, I'm with Jay," she clarified if it wasn't clear enough. She sighed and looked at the ceiling of the restaurant. "No. We're at dinner. … Because Dawson let us go. … Because it's deader than a fucking doornail right now, Hank. … Then I guess everyone is all caught up on their paperwork. … OK. I'm caught up on my paperwork." She looked across the table again at Jay. "Jay's all caught up on his too," she provided, though he made a face that clearly said she'd just lied. She gave him a look that expressed he better as hell have whatever he was supposed have on Hank's desk on Hank's desk by the time he was back in the office and Jay just scrunched his face. She wasn't confident that was going to happen.

"We were going to swing by the hospital after we ate," she sighed and pinched at the bridge of her nose. He was starting to give her a tension headache. She gave Jay another glance across the table. He was being patient but she could tell that he was less than thrilled their supposed "Christmas dinner" together was being interrupted by Hank's last minute shopping stress. "Yeah, he's coming too. … Because he's my ride. … Hank. It's snowing and like 10 degrees outside. … No, I'm staying at his place tonight."

Jay shot her an even more horrified look that she was disclosing that. But she just rolled her eyes and shook her head at him. It wasn't a big deal. Or at least not as big of deal as Jay thought it was. Though, Jay was more likely to get the glares from Hank the next day than she was. Like Jay had violated her in some way. She wouldn't exactly call it a violation.

"Because you had said you were going to stay over with him tonight. We don't both need to be there and I'm not going to go and sleep in an empty house. The window will be rattling like a fucker, Hank. … Yeah, Hank. Sure you'll have it fixed before Christmas. Like the air conditioner in the summer, right? … It's in three days, Hank. … It's been rattling since I was fourteen."

She let out a slow breath and gazed at Jay. He gave her a smile and picked a little more at his plate before sitting back in his chair and waiting for her to finish the call so they could again pretend that this almost felt like a date. Not that much of anything they did together really felt like a date.

"Why don't you just get him the Jurassic Park one?" she suggested. "Well, if it's Lego it's likely age-appropriate since you think everything else isn't. … Seriously, Hank, do you really think him playing some shoot 'em up game is going to turn him into a gang banger?" she rolled her eyes at Jay, who grinned thinly. "You didn't let us have videogames in the house and we both work with guns every day. So if that's the plan – it didn't work."

She lifted her fork and put a bit more of her dinner in her mouth – before it got too cold. Apparently getting a nice dinner in at a fancy restaurant wasn't really in the cards for them. At least not one where they were alone. Lately she was never alone – even when she was away from work, Hank and Ethan, she was pretty much on a constant tether. Normally she wouldn't mind Hank calling her about Ethan. She wanted him to call and keep her updated. But she really didn't need to be updated – or even included – in his Christmas shopping efforts.

"I don't know what Justin ended up getting him. … Yeah, he was talking about getting him a videogame. Or Lego. … I know you told him not to get Lego. … He's your son, Hank. His skull is so thick it's hard to get through to him sometimes. … Yes, I told him not to get Lego too. … I don't know if he ended up getting him a videogame or not. … No, I didn't do his shopping for him this year. … Because he's not in jail, Hank."

She let out another annoyed noise and reached for her glass of wine this time. She almost wanted to chug it but she managed to just take a sip. She gave Jay a more apologetic look and reached to give his hand a small squeeze. He was frowning at her. She could tell he wanted her to hang up. She wasn't good at that, though.

"I don't have a clue what Justin would pick. Olive likely picked it. … Call them and ask, Hank," she sighed impatiently.

"Is there a baseball one?" she asked hopefully, looking across the table at Jay, who nodded that there should be one. "Jay says there should be a baseball game out."

She nodded as she listened to him some more. It sounded like he was trying to find the baseball game – but was severely unimpressed by the sheer number of game options in the store and the way they were laid out. Apparently you "couldn't find a fucking thing in the whole damn section".

"The Show?" she put to Jay. He shrugged. "That might be it. Does it have baseball on the front?" she asked somewhat sarcastically. She let out another breath and raised her eyebrow at Jay. "Is it any good?" He shrugged again. "He says it's great," she lied.

She sighed as he continued to list of games, though. "OK, Hank," she interrupted. "That thing you've got in your hand and up to your ear – it's a phone. And in this day and age, they have these magic things called data plans. So if you click on the little browser button, you can type the names of these games into this thing call the internet and it will tell you what they are, if they have guns – since you can't tell from the covers. And, it will also tell you if anyone thinks they're any good."

That went over as well as expected. "Hank, I've gotta go. … Because Jay's paying for my meal at the nicest restaurant I've been in in a long time and I'd like to eat it."

That finally shut him up. Usually Hank only provided monotone syllables on the phone. But the past few weeks with everything going on with Ethan and their co-ordination of family life and work via phone had meant he'd started displaying just what an awful telephone manner he did have. The grunts and one word – one sentence if you were lucky – response were much better than the latest attempts at 'conversation.'

"Yeah," she allowed. "We'll see you at the hospital. … I don't know. Likely about ninety minutes. … I know he's been alone a few hours. … Hank, they feed him and he's likely just sleeping or watching TV. He's fine. … Yeah. If we're there before you, we'll stay until you get there. … Yeah. Bye."

She sighed as she finally hung up the phone and set it back on the table – not tucking it away – because she sort of feared Hank might end up calling again. Or with her luck the next ring would be Ethan wondering where everyone was and why he was stuck sitting alone now that the workday was over.

"Sorry," she told Jay, giving him a thin smile, and looking back to her meal. It didn't look quite as good now that it was lukewarm. She wondered how improper it would be to ask the server to take it back to the kitchen and warm it up again for her.

Jay gave a small shrug, though. He sort of understood the situation. Or at least he tried to. She wasn't sure how much he liked it. But he hadn't run away screaming just yet. Though, running away screaming would be a little complicated since they had to work with each other every day.

"Everything OK?" he asked, adjusting himself in his chair again and looking back to his meal too.

She sighed and gave her head a little shake. "He's just stressed because he hasn't got any of the shopping yet," she muttered. "I think he's usually done most of it in like August."

Jay laughed but she gave him a questioning look. "Oh … you're serious?"

She shrugged. "Yeah. But it hasn't been a stellar year for that kind of organization."

"How does anyone even know what they want in August?" Jay teased as put some more of his meal into his mouth.

"It's Hank," Erin said. "Do you think he asks what we want?"

Jay raised an eyebrow at her. "Merry Christmas," he said sarcastically.

She just shrugged, though. "I have no complaints."

And she didn't. Hank was always generous – even after Camille was gone. At least compared to what Christmas had ever been like when she was growing up.

Most years she didn't get anything from her mother. About the most significant gift she could ever remember receiving from Bunny had been days of the week underwear when she was maybe six years old. And then there was the year that they somehow got put on a charity list and managed to be squatting at the same address by the time the holidays rolled around and had received a hamper full of clothes and food and some little toys and presents. That had seemed like Santa bringing a toy mountain at the time. But, of course, Bunny and the boyfriend of the hour hadn't done a good job at sharing the food with her and Teddy. And, she was pretty sure they'd suddenly had to leave that squat sometime soon after the holidays and the little dolls and toy cars that had been in the basket got left behind in the rapid retreat. Most years Christmas was just another day of Bunny drunk and stoned. It was usually a good excuse for her mother to ensure she was completely wasted at a level not seen the rest of the year. It didn't really constitute a happy holiday at all.

She remembered being nervous and so excited and fascinated when she'd had her first Christmas with the Voights. It was all so strange and new. It'd seemed almost like something she'd thought had only really existed on television. Fiction. Science Fiction almost. They had a tree and decorations. They made cookies. The house smelled so good in that week leading up to Christmas with the baking. And Christmas Day? The whole place smelled of Hank's Christmas Day breakfast and the big dinner Camille served up later in the evening when their parents came over. Then there were the presents and stockings. Items that Erin hadn't really seen before – ever. Not wrapped neatly in fancy paper and with bows set under a tree. Santa even came – and left something for her too since Justin was still so little at the time and not entirely disbelieving. It'd actually been a little overwhelming that first year. She was almost sure Hank and Camille thought she was a bigger headcase than she likely was it'd all been so foreign to her and she'd so bounced between excitement and trepidation and then anger at her past and embarrassment and utter sadness – and about every other emotion in between. Though, there was a gratefulness there. A profound gratefulness and appreciation about where she'd ended up. That somehow her life had gone from looking like what it had to what it had looked like that morning. It'd looked so normal. Even though that normal didn't feel so normal to her at the time. In some ways that normal still didn't feel so normal to her.

It hadn't been until a couple years later when she started high school at St. Ignatius that she'd realized that the Voights' Christmas celebrations were actually very modest in scale. A stocking filled with a tooth brush and shampoo and fancy smelling soap and chapstick and deodorant and new socks. There was usually a new beanie or mittens in there too. Some pencils and highlighters or stickie notes. All practical items but treasures to a kid who was lucky to have a bar of soap and running water in the bathroom some months. There was usually a few fun things in the stocking too – a book or magazine, a movie, and sometimes even a gift card to a coffee shop or the movies. Treasures to a fourteen year old. Then there was the candy and the fresh fruit that filled up the toe. She'd never even seen a pomegranate or a Navel orange before that first Christmas with the Voights. She hadn't known what to do with the pomegranate and had been amazed by the sheer size of the orange. It likely added to the headcase label but Camille had been so gracious in explaining it to her and helping her seed the pomegranate to try the fruit. It'd been such a great treat. Even better than some of the fresh baked cookies that had been laid out.

It hadn't been until after Camille was gone that "Santa" stopped laying out a wrapped gift with her and Justin's stockings. Ethan still got one. Though, he was now at the age where he protested it – that he KNEW it was Dad and that he DIDN'T BELIEVE IN SANTA and that it was DUMB that there was still a wrapped gift with his stocking when no one else got one. But Erin just told him each year to enjoy it while it kept happening. It would only be a matter of time before Hank decided his youngest really was too old enough to be getting a stocking and a Santa gift. The harder Ethan protested it, the more likely it was to happen sooner. And, other than the stocking and Santa gift, there wasn't a ton under the tree. Not by the standards that Erin had learned other people measured by. There was always one gift from Hank and Camile. Never more than three. It varied from year-to-year and with her in her teens, she'd rather quickly determined that the number of gifts had more to do with the pricetag of the gift than ensuring everyone got the same number of presents. She hadn't cared. She was just so happy to have a gift to open. She still was.

And, even one had been more than none. She hadn't thought much of it until she started hearing from the rich spoiled brats at St. Ignatius about their living rooms piled wall-to-wall with presents and them lamenting about not getting the latest cellphone or the newest videogame console or the fanciest labels and the greatest laptop. Or a car. Or a family ski trip or beach getaway for the holidays. It'd been yet another way she didn't fit in. She'd quickly learned not to get engaged in conversations after the holidays where the Mean Girls bragged about what they received. She never received as much. She could never image asking for – or demanding – as much. But she knew she was infinitely more grateful for what she did receive than those girls could ever even begin to conceive.

And, even though Hank and Camille had never once asked her for a list of things she wanted for Christmas – or her birthday – (nor had it ever occurred to her that she could give on or that other people did), they always had a present for her that exceeded her expectations. It was always something she wanted or needed – without her having to ask. And Erin thought that in some ways that was a bigger gift. It showed that they knew her. They knew her likes and dislikes. They knew what she needed right then at that moment in her life. And they provided it. They cared about her. That made the sweater or the boots or the messenger bag or the hairstyling supplies or CD player much more meaningful than the mountains of fancy, expensive crap that the kids around her were getting. Even now, as an adult, it still did. Because it still surprised her what Hank would end up putting under the tree for her. She still appreciated that she knew she had a place to go home for Christmas – and that she had family and people who cared about her and thought about her and knew the real her – good and bad – there.

"Is Ethan even going to be out of the hospital for Christmas?" Jay asked, pulling her out of her examination of the past.

She had to refocus her eyes a bit, looking to him, as she realized she'd been holding her fork between her plate and her mouth without taking a bite. She put it in her mouth and gave him a little nod, swallowing.

"He said the doctors will likely release him tomorrow," she said.

Jay gave her a reassuring smile. He was trying in all of this. But she could tell that he didn't really know what she needed. Most of time she wasn't entirely sure what she needed either. "That's good news," he said. "So things went well today?"

She shrugged. "I guess so. He didn't really say. They must've if he decided to go out and leave him for a couple hours."

She'd hopefully be able to track down whatever doctor was on-call that night and get a rundown when they got there. That would be more effective than trying to get it second-hand through Hank. Hank didn't like talking about it. Sometimes she wasn't entirely sure how much he even retained of what was said to him. The man had been running on adrenaline for years – and these past few weeks it'd only gotten worse.

"So is Hank going to come into the squad before the holidays?" Jay asked, putting another mouthful in his piehole.

She just gave him a look. "Finish your paperwork, Jay," she put to him flatly.

"I'm just asking," he tried to say innocently.

"You know he doesn't officially have any furlough booked for over the holidays at all – so you should just expect him to be there every day," she countered.

"Oh, but I have an inside source to keep me abreast on when he's actually going to be there," he said.

She gave him a glare. "Get your stuff on his desk or he'll be pissed off at both of us," she said. "Now is not the time to piss him off."

Jay let out a noise and pushed some food around on his plate. "You know I think I would've liked Kuma's better than this."

Her eyes laughed at him. "For hamburgers? For our big Christmas 'date'?"

He shrugged. "How's your … whatever that is?"

"Turkey leg confit with crispy lentils, napa cabbage and argodolce," she recited back to him in a manner similar to their overly enthusiastic server.

"Yum," he teased.

"It's OK," she provided.

"See," he said, pointing his fork at her. "Just OK. Now if you were eating a Kuma Burger how would you describe it."

She smiled broadly at him. "Orgasmic," she put back flatly.

"See," he argued again. "I don't even get comments like that about anything."

"Never in your life have you cooked for me," Erin pressed.

"Sure I have," he said.

She gave him a challenging look. "Popping a cap off a beer is not cooking."

He shrugged. "I do other … orgasmic … stuff for you."

She snorted and shook her head, looking back to her plate. She wasn't going to argue with him there. But she wasn't entirely sure it was appropriate conversation when they were sitting in the midst of a fancy restaurant surrounded by people dressed much nicer than them. They likely should've planned better and brought a change of clothes to work. Or made the time to go home and shower and make themselves up pretty before going out. But they were rarely that organized. And that just wasn't them even at the best of times. Some how sitting there in their jeans and almost clean work tops pretty much summarized everything about them and their relationship. At least they were being true to themselves even if they were probably falling far below the unstated dress code.

"How's your … that …", she said, wagging her fork at his plate.

He gave her a look. "I'm not sure cow's blood sausage and lobster tail were meant to go together," he said flatly.

A smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "Maybe you palate just isn't refined enough to appreciate the dish."

He nodded. "That's likely it."

She laughed and then he did too, both of them looking at their lukewarm and just half-finished plates. When the finally caught each other's eyes, he smiled warmly at her.

"You just want to go somewhere else?" he asked.

She shrugged. "There's that burrito joint near the hospital," she suggested. "Grab Ethan a quesadilla? He likely hasn't eaten whatever they tried to feed him."

"Perfect," Jay said and searched around the restaurant for their server, holding up his hand slightly to try to get the guy's attention.

After the man had come over, and rather unimpressed, retrieved their plates – promising to package their leftovers despite their assurances that he really didn't need to. They again were left waiting for their bill – which Erin didn't really want to see and was feeling a little guilty that Jay was picking up the tab when clearly neither of them had enjoyed the meal.

"You thought anymore about what we talked about the other day?" she asked, as she sat back and waited.

Jay glanced at her. He was tracking the server. He seemed pretty anxious to get out of there. He was likely dreaming about scarfing down a burrito now that it'd been put on offer. Or at least chowing down on something to mask the taste of what he'd ordered.

"What was that?" he asked with some confusion.

"Christmas," she put to him flatly.

He sighed and brought his eyes to her. "Erin," he said with that tone he always used when he put her name at the beginning of a sentence. "It's not exactly a comfortable situation."

"I'm sure you've dealt with more uncomfortable situations," she put back to him, crossing her arms.

He flared his nostrils at her in mild annoyance. "It's awkward," he pressed.

"So rather than deal with some minor awkwardness you'd prefer to be pathetic and sit alone in your apartment all day?" she put to him.

"Ah, excuse me," he said. "There's a bar stool with my name on it for watching basketball and the World Juniors."

She rolled her eyes. "That's definitely less pathetic, Jay." He gave her a look that clearly said he didn't want to talk about it anymore. But she wasn't going to let it drop that easily. "I don't know what has to be so awkward about it."

"He's my boss," Jay put back to her sternly.

"You knew that before you started sleeping with me, Jay. He's my boss too."

"Yeah but you've got the whole … family, father figure thing … going on with him," he said dismissively. She glared at him. She hated when he put it like that. It seemed as dismissive as the gesture he'd made to go along with the statement. "OK, and Justin will be there."

"So?" Erin pressed back again.

"And the baby. And his baby mama."

"And you're scared of a five-month-old baby?" Erin almost teased but there was some anger under it. She wasn't going to let him use Henry as an excuse.

Jay sighed exasperatedly at her. "Have you talked to Voight about this?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Sure," she allowed.

"And what he'd say?"

"He said …" and she gave her best impression of one of Hank's grunts.

Jay slapped the table, though, like that had just proved his point. "See! He thinks it's a bad idea too."

"No," Erin disagreed. "If he thought it was a bad idea, there would've been words, not a grunt. A grunt is complete indifference."

"Indifference is the same as him not wanting me there," Jay said.

Erin looked at him. Their eyes meeting and him sitting back in his chair again as he saw her seriousness. "I don't care if Hank wants you there or not," she said. "I want you to be there, Jay."