Title: Aftermath
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: Voight and what's left with his family deal with the aftermath of Justin's death while continuing to try to cope with their own struggles, dynamics and work demands.
This is not a linear narrative with a beginning-middle-end. It's just scenes.
A notification is provided at the beginning of each chapter about where it happens in relation to the other chapters.
SPOILER ALERT: There are MAJOR spoilers from the finale of S3. Early chapters will also contain spoilers from early episodes of S4. And, the story as a whole will contain spoilers from the rest of the stories in this AU, which are Interesting Dynamics, So This is Christmas and Scenes.
Hank hadn't even gotten to the front door before Magoo was already hobbling up the stairs – headed straight for his room. Fucking Bear had heard the car out front and them making their way to the door before had. Had been his first sign that they were back. Bear – the only one who could stand him at the moment apparently – had abandoned his spot at his feet – and bolted for the front hall. Made it past him and navigated around E already to wait for him expectantly – tail and tongue wagging – at the top of the stairs. His allegiances were clear.
But it'd all become a pretty standard routine lately. Had been while Olive and Henry were staying with them. Had thought then that it was mostly his son just taking a break from the activity and noises of a one-year-old. But since Olive had taken leave with his grandson, E had pretty much been spending his life in his room. Wouldn't come downstairs until it was time to take him over to camp. Would head up there as soon as he got home – using the excuse that he needed to rest, which was likely more than true. But usually E's afternoon rests would be pretty short lived unless he really did fall asleep. Mostly he'd lay flat for a bit under his heating blanket and then reappear to flake out in front of the TV until dinner or he was badgered about screentime or chores or taking his mutt out. Wasn't the case anymore, though.
E was staying up there until he really did call at him about dinner or really did go and brow beat him into doing his chores, managing his pup. But it was always a one-way conversation. Magoo wasn't even putting up a fight or handing back any lip anymore. He'd just lay there without a word when he told him to get off his ass then get up and head passed him and back down the stairs without so much as an acknowledgement he'd been at him about any of it. Disappear back upstairs again as soon as the chores or the meal was done. Wasn't taking no screentime. Wasn't asking about getting on the Xbox or the laptop or the tablet. Just laying up there with his headphones on staring at the ceiling.
Hank had always had a whole lot of rules about his kids living in their rooms when they hit their preteens and their teens. Didn't allow it. Didn't like them bruiting about bullshit. Being up there all pouty and grey under some fucking thundercloud. Laying flat on their backs and sitting on their asses with the doors closed tight. Acting like they weren't a member of the family and didn't want to be.
But these days cracking down on Magoo about any of that had been hard. Knew his son needed time and space to grieve too. To process. He needed some of his own time and space too without constantly staring his only remaining son in the eyes. And he didn't want to badger him too much – push him away too much, put any sort of wedge between them more than there already was – because Eth was what he had left. He was the only one there. Seemed like his last remaining chance to try to fix this. To make it right. To try to keep it all from completely falling apart.
Needed to keep it from completely falling apart. Kept telling himself that. Because E was still just a kid. Only thirteen. Still had a whole lot of living to do. A whole lot of growing up to do. Still needed to get him through his last year of middle school. Needed to get him off to high school. Needed to make sure he was the first of his kids that got to actually follow through with setting foot in college – full-time, not night school, on time. And needed to make sure his son was set to find a job. A career. One where he wouldn't be burying another one of his children.
They weren't supposed to go before you. Too much of his family had already gone before him. Had come too close to having to bury Magoo already. But that couldn't – wasn't – going to happen now.
So he needed to be there. Needed to do as much as he could fix it to make sure he was there. For all of it. E still needed him. Needed to cling to that. His youngest still needed him. Was good reason to stay the course. Maybe it was his fucking only reason right now.
So he wasn't going to rock the boat too much. Wasn't going to be too much of the tough guy. Wasn't going to hand him tough love. Wasn't going to tell him to man up. Wasn't going to lecture him about behaving or listening or growing up or acting his age. Just would make himself available. Not nitpick at every rule. Not bark or growl at him.
Or at least that was the plan. And he was trying.
He watched his son's awkward gait with his crutches up the stairs. Hated him and those crutches on the stairs. Wish he'd take the one off and hold onto the railing. Wished he didn't need the crutches at all. Wished his kid was whole – not just physically, but mentally and emotionally. That there weren't all these gaping wounds and holes in his being. But there were.
"You have fun?" he called up after him.
"I guess," E muttered in weak response.
He glanced at Erin. She'd actually come in. That was progress from the morning. Wouldn't set foot in the house. Just scowled at him from the stoop. Hardly made eye contact. Hardly said two words too him. Couldn't even seem to manage to put together a good morning or a hello.
Been like that a lot. At work too. Avoiding him. Diverting her eyes when they did have to speak. Looking off into some corner or taking a real interest in the floor. Crossing those arms of her like she was having to protect herself – from him. And when she did look at him there was this mistrust, this disappointment, this accusation in him. A hatred. Because a piece of her had died too – not because her adopted kid brother had been taken from her – but because of him. Because of what he'd done and hadn't done. What she'd seen and hadn't seen. What she thought and what she hadn't considered. What he'd inadvertently or purposely forced her to do and the price she was having to pay because of that. That they were all having to pay. Because she'd followed him to those fucking Silos. Because she'd known too much and knew him too well and she'd cared enough when he wasn't in a position to be able to hear it. To feel it. So he'd sent her away. Tossed her – and her support – aside when he'd told himself he'd never be one of those people who did that to her. Not to his little girl. And he hadn't been able to stop himself.
And now they were here.
Wherever the fuck here was. That was neither here nor there.
But he did know he hated himself for driving that wedge between them. He hated what he'd done to those eyes of hers. His girl who had those dark eyes – that had seen too much too young – but that had always sparkled. That even when she'd hated him as a teenager and as a 20-something and even as a thirty-year-old grown-ass woman – there'd always been some sparkle in them, some life in them – when they were on him. There wasn't right now. Had to wonder if there ever would be.
Those eyes worried him. But wasn't just that. She didn't look healthy. She'd lost weight. Could see it in the way she was carrying herself. The way her tshirts were just hanging off her. Weight loss he could likely understand some. Knew he'd taken off a few pounds in all of this too. But it was her face that was eating at him. She was pale and just looked like plasticine. This pallor that had been lined with clay. Had seen it in her skin when she was that scrawny little kid he'd brought home too. Malnourishment.
She wasn't taking care of herself. Not eating. Not sleeping. It was written all over her. Knew it was fucking written all over them all but hers – it was starting to really worry him. Because she wouldn't listen to him right now. Wouldn't talk to him. And didn't want to hear anything much he had to say either.
Had thought about pulling Halstead aside. Telling him that he needed to get her to take care of herself. Make sure she was eating. Make her some meals. Check in on her. But he knew the guy was likely already doing that. Knew too that him lecturing Halstead on that wasn't going to earn him any points there either. And he'd only make Erin angrier with him if Jay went and told her that she'd pulled him aside and said anything.
Wouldn't make much difference even if Halstead was saying any of it, though. Not likely. Because his girl was as stubborn as fuck. Always had been. And she'd do what she wanted. How she wanted. On her terms and her own way and in her own time. That was bad enough. Made her hard to deal with. Worse, though, because she had her walls. Built them up real high and real thick. Pushed you away. And Hank knew that whatever Jay did or didn't know about any of this, she'd be trying to protect him. So she'd be pushing harder, talking less. Just digging her own hole.
Or maybe it was more he'd dug the whole for her – and he'd put a fucking banana peel in front of it. And he hadn't fucking been there to catch her before she slipped in. He might as well have fucking pushed her. And right now she wasn't too interested in him being the one to try to help pull her out.
He didn't have much business trying to do that anyways. He was in his own hole. Slipping around on his own banana peel. And he'd had to turn to his child to try to help him get out. Maybe she begrudgingly gave him a bit of a lift. But he wasn't anywhere near reaching the top. Didn't think he'd really get there until they were ready to work together again. And it sure as fuck didn't feel like that was going to happen anytime soon. Not while they were like this. But he was at a fucking loss how to fix it.
Not with Erin. Not with Magoo. Not with Olive. And he'd lost his chance with Justin.
Maybe he could try to make it up with little H. But sure felt like that opportunity had been ripped form him too.
His whole fucking foundation was crumbling. And he didn't know who to fucking call in to try to fix the cracks. To try to fucking save it.
Maybe this whole fucking house – this family – was beyond repair at this point. And that was his fucking fault. That was something he was going to have to live with.
Wasn't sure he could. But also knew that he wasn't ready to go yet – wasn't ready to go away or to hand in his badge or check out completely – because what he was right now. Who he fucking was. That's not how he wanted his children to remember him.
That couldn't be how they remembered him. It was killing him the way they all saw him right now. There was so much that none of them – E, Erin, Olive, H – they didn't see. They just didn't know. They couldn't know. They shouldn't know. They shouldn't have to know.
He was just tying to fucking protect them. To make it right. To fix this the best way he knew how.
But how do you fucking fix a whole family that's dying around you?
"Don't want to show me what you got?" Hank tried again at E. Trying to show some interest. Trying to find some kind of connection. Trying to fucking catch him before he slipped from his grip and tumbled into some goddamn hole too.
"I'm tired," Ethan muttered.
Hank let out a grunt at that as his son disappeared at the top of the stairs. His crutches still clicking down the hall and then his bedroom door clicking shut. The whole open door policy thing hadn't been working too well lately either. But it was another thing he hadn't been arguing about too much. Though, he always left E's door open when he went up to check on him. Not that Eth left it open that long after he left. The telltale click of it shutting always came by the time he reached the bottom of the stairs. But at least there was no door slamming. At least there weren't locks to really lock him out of his life and this struggle.
So he shifted his eyes back to Erin and the bags she was holding. He held out his hand to take some of them and she looped a bunch off her one wrist to hand to him. Weight of it was pretty clear that it was Magoo's school supplies.
"You coming in?" he asked.
He didn't wait for an answer. He knew if he did, she'd just say no. So he started walking down the hall instead. Depositing the bags on the dining room table. Leave them there for now until he had a chance to pull the shit out and get it sorted and moved into the office – or preferably into Magoo's school bag and out of the way.
She stood at the door for a long beat. Had already started looking in some of the bags, gauging if they'd managed to find all the shit on the fucking ridiculous standard supply list. But she'd eventually come down the hall. Put the rest of the bags on the table and started working at pulling the clothes in them out. Knew how he was. Knew he'd want to get the tags off and get them in the wash and dried and ironed sooner rather than later. Get it done.
"Gone a long time," he commented, giving her a glance.
She did her best to ignore him. Kept pulling the clothes out of the bag. Piling it up by type across the one side of the table. But managed to give him a shrug.
"Took a while to find everything on his standard supply list," she muttered.
"Mmm…," he grunted. "Have to hit up a Staples and Walmart?"
"Target," Erin said. "Then took him for lunch. A movie …"
He glanced at her from his efforts. Hadn't known that was part of the plan. "What flick?"
"Star Trek," she provided flatly and he again gave her a small sound of acknowledgement. Magoo had been wanting to see that. Before all this shit hit the fan. "Then did the clothes shopping. Took him to my place so he could see Jay for a bit."
He gave her another look at that comment too. Clear suggestion that Halstead didn't feel welcome there anymore. Or more likely that he wanted to set foot in there even less than Erin did. That he didn't want much to look at him or have anything to do with him either. That work was more than enough. Though, Halstead wasn't giving him too much shit at work. Still giving him a wide breadth, though.
"Managed to get a lot," he said with a gesture at the clothes she was finishing unpack. Looked like she'd managed to get Magoo to pick out a good variety. Couple pairs of pants. Some sleeved shirts. Some button downs and a flannel. A hoodie and a couple tshirts in the mix. Spotted a NASA and Nirvana one while she was doing her organization. About summed Magoo up. Funny kid.
"Well, money goes farther when he's still in boys' sizes," she said and did cast him a look at that as she scrunched up the bags and crossed her arms. "And that wasn't something he was too happy about," she added. "Pretty upset that he wasn't graduated to men's yet."
Voight gave a little grunt and pawed at some of the clothes. Couldn't remember when Justin had started fitting into men's sizes. But the reality was that Camille would've managed tagging along and regulating his clothing shopping. Other reality was that his older son had grown and developed at a more normal and predictable rate than Magoo. And with Eth that just wasn't going to be the case.
Wasn't too sure he was overly upset about that. Sort of wanted to have his little boy for longer. To cling on to that. But was pretty clear anymore that his son wasn't so little anymore. That his final bit of childhood had been ripped from him. He was more grown up than the body he was in. Wasn't a kid. Probably more of a man than Hank wanted to acknowledge.
"Don't give him shit about those," Erin put at him bluntly and followed her nod at the pants he was touching. "All cargos are done up as joggers anymore. And maybe him having a pull-up waist isn't a bad thing." He eyed her and she shot him a glare. "For future reference, shopping on a day he's tremoring bad is pretty counter productive."
He gave a small grunt of acknowledgement at that and looked back to the pants. Hadn't even realized the things had elastic in the waist and cuffs yet. But sort of stung that his daughter thought he'd bust his son's balls about that. But maybe she was right. Maybe he would've. Before. But these days? It didn't seem worth it. Wasn't worth measuring a man by his waist band.
She balled up the bags even more and dumped them on the chair. "He wouldn't shop for new underwear with me," she put to him flatly. "So you're on your own for that. And he says he needs a new fall coat and really wants to get new shoes."
Hank just nodded and she shoved her hand into her pocket, depositing a handful of one dollar bills and some coins on the table. She really didn't need to give him the change. But didn't think saying that would go over well.
"Went on the assumption that stuff wouldn't be included in the quarterly budget," she provided.
He just grunted at that. Guess it wouldn't be. Supposed it didn't make much sense putting big ticket items into the school clothes budget. His son needed a new coat and new shoes – he'd get them. Find the money somewhere to work it out.
"And, Hank," Erin pressed and he looked up again, because that was about the first time she'd actually brought herself to say his name in the past few weeks. He hoped that was progress too. But her eyes said otherwise. "He's already feeling really self-conscious about not wearing any name brands or labels – on top of still being in boys' sizes. You know how Iggy's is. You know how those kids are. So if you aren't going to find some cash in the bank downstairs to treat him to one or two shirts with whatever the fuck label on it that he thinks is the shit then you better start taking note and have it under the Christmas tree."
He just eyed her. Processed. Part of him wanted to apologize. For all of it. To fucking start at whatever those fucking kids at Iggy's had put her through. Put Justin through. But he just didn't know what to say looking back at all of it. Any of it. Just that there were a lot of things he'd wished he'd done differently. But he couldn't go back and fix any of it. It was the past. The fucking past.
"You staying for dinner?" he put to her instead. "Was going to throw some chops on the grill."
Because before his girl would never turn down one of his home cooked meals – especially pork and more especially barbecue. And then he could make sure she at least got a meal in her. Get some nourishment. Took care of her a little bit. Maybe she'd let him do that much. As a start. It had to be a start. They needed to start somewhere. To try to fucking repair.
"Jay's waiting out front," Erin said.
Hank shrugged. "Then I'll put on four."
Erin shook her head and crossed her arms. "Not tonight," she said in complete monotone, staring at him. Felt more like a glare. But he supposed at least she was looking at him. Like that, though, he could barely look at her. So he stared at Cami's painting for a moment and then looked back down to the pile of clothes. A fucking Chicago Bears hoodie. E wasn't even into football. J had been. All about the football. As a kid – playing. As an adult still watching. Hadn't managed to get to a game with his son for years and years. Not since Camille died. So expensive. But should've found the cash. Should've made the time. Gotten out there more with his kid.
Had to wonder if the shirt was about Justin. That maybe he could try to use this as some sort of leverage to connect with his younger son. That they could watch those games together. The ones that J wasn't going to get to watch. But make the calls for him.
Figured though it was more likely that it was that it said Chicago and it said Bear. And it was blue. Magoo liked blue.
At least it looked warm.
"How long we going to do this?" he asked, forcing himself to find her eyes again.
She shrugged. "Don't know."
He gave a little nod and looked back to the table, gesturing at it. "Thanks for taking care of all this."
"I did it for Ethan," she provided bluntly. His eyes rose to hers again. He knew his hurt registered in them. But she just looked away and then looked down the hall. "I'm going to go," she said.
He nodded. "OK," he allowed. "Have a good night. Good Sunday."
"Yea …," she muttered and started down the hall but stopped and turned back looking at him.
He shared her gaze, hoping that she'd change her mind. That she'd stay for dinner. That they'd try some more to talk. Or she'd just sit there in the living room. Watch some stupid fucking show with Magoo or turn on the game to stare at together. That they could just be there together for a bit. That they could be in the same house, the same room, the same space. That they might be able to be a family again – for a minute. More than just one on paper. A real one. The one they'd been. The one they really fucking needed to be to get through this.
"You need to get him on the propranolol again, Hank," she said a bit more gently – but with a firmness that nearly shock her frail looking frame. "And you aren't going to take going to the Classics from him. If you can't make yourself take him – then you've got to tell me and Jay what the fuck is going on so we can get him down there."
He stared at her. The accusation in her voice was clear. That he wasn't taking care of his son right now. That he was letting things slide and that he was letting him down. And that made him bristle. Because he was trying. He was really fucking trying. And he wasn't going to do something that would hurt his boy. He wouldn't. He couldn't. Not Magoo. Not him too.
"Anything else you want to talk about?" he put to her. "Seems like you've got a lot on your mind."
She shrugged at him and shook her head but hesitated for a moment and then said with an even greater edge, "Jay talked him out of getting a PlayStation. For now. Don't know how long that will last."
"OK, then …," he managed.
But she didn't even stay in place long enough to see his lips move. Doubt she'd heard the words come out of his mouth either. She was already turned on her heel and making her beeline down the hall. Back to the door. Back out of it. Doing her level best to charge the fuck out of his life. To get away from him.
"Erin, you can talk to me about anything," he called after her. "That you're always welcome here. You know that, right?"
Her beeline slowed to a pace and she looked back over her shoulder, her arms still tight across her. "Yea, I do," she acknowledged. "But, I can't be here, Hank," she said and shook her head. "I don't want to be here."
And then she turned and made her last few steps to the front door and she stepped outside, pulling the door shut behind her. Effectively shutting him out.
And he stared at it. His mouth skewed as cockeyed as his life felt anymore. He was so at a fucking loss. His kids – his two remaining kids – they were all he had left now. They were what he needed to keep from spinning out. To stay stable. To stay the course. He'd lost his son. He'd lost his grandson. And now his daughter and his youngest could hardly look at him. Hardly be near him. And, he so didn't know what to fucking do.
So he just dealt with what was in front of him – and he reached to start yanking the tags off E's new wardrobe. At least he could do that. At least it was fucking something. It was a fucking start. But in the grand scheme of things it sure as fuck didn't count for much.
AUTHOR NOTE: Same as usual, reviews and feedback are appreciated.
Thanks to those who did take the time to provide reviews and feedback after the previous chapter. The general message I got are that people weren't that thrilled with the premiere for a host of reasons — and that people are generally struggling with this story because it's too dark. Not sure what to say about that, as I don't want to make promises that it's going to get lighter and brighter any time soon. It will but it will take time. I'm going to see where the next few episodes go and how the series frames the Jay/Erin relationship and the Erin/Hank relationship before I decide how I want to structure their arcs in this story. But the overall plan is that although it will mirror certain elements from S4 that it will continue the story lines, plots and character arcs established in the previous stories from this AU.
That said, this will likely be the last chapter for a while. Maybe I'll feel differently after next episode.
An update was added to Scenes as well today. It might be the last there for a bit too. But, again, we'll see.
Thank you to the regular readers and to those who expressed support recently and to those who regularly take the time to review or DM with comments and feedback.
Also, if anyone managed to see, blow-up, or make out what neighborhood the apartment listing Jay had sent Erin in the premiere said, let me know. It looked like it said it in the subject line, but I couldn't make it out. I'd just be curious to know.
