Well, here's the ever elusive three chapter opener to answer the question I am sure many of you have been wondering: Where the fuck is Voight?

Truth? I have no idea how to write Voight, because we know so little about him still, and because he is such a complex character...not going to lie, that chapter is going to be rough.

Just like this one.

*sighs*

Oh well. Hope you guys at least somewhat enjoy this.


Alvin's P.O.V.

"How would you describe it then?!"

"Terrifying! Awful! Nightmare fuel! Almost anything but 'concerning'!"

"I was just trying to-" She stops for a second, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, composing herself. I have not had that kind of self control lately, and my anger stays right where it is-boiling beneath my skin, ready to explode.

"Why." Comes the quiet command, a statement taking the place of a question. It's a word that demands an answer, yet leaves no room for deliberation of its meaning. I know what she's asking, even as she refuses to ask it. Leaving me and my anger, to refuse to answer it.

"Why is he so important to you?" Hey, there's an interrogative statement. Sadly, I am in no mood to be here, nor am I in a mood to play her stupid games.

"Why is he so important to you?!" I snarl back, completely done with this lady. Her gaze narrows, and I can see the animosity boil up again in her eyes.

"This isn't about me." She grinds out through gritted teeth.

"Clearly, it is. Why are you trying so hard? Why do you even give a shit about him? Or any of us for that matter?! You don't know anything about us! You barely even know our names!" A flinch is what I receive for my words. Good. She should know what it's like.

"You care."

"Excuse me?"

"You care." As she repeats them the words are louder, harsher. She almost looks close to crying. Suddenly she raises her eyes back to mine.

"You care more deeply, more whole heartedly, then any team, any cop, I have ever had the pleasure of coming into contact with. You care, but none of you wanted to, because years of experience told you that to care for someone, is how you get hurt. You saw him and you hated him for five minutes until you realized who this kid was. And it pissed you off that the tough cops of the city could be so protective of someone."

She stops for a moment, looking angry at the world.

"So tell me detective-why is he so important to you? What makes him so much higher than everyone else? Is it because you think he is weak? Fragile? Like he needs protecting?"

"No." I grind out, hands balling into fists. It's been very hard lately to find that steadiness I've been known for. Normally it takes a lot for me to lose it, to really show my similarities to Voight. Nowadays, the slightest implications make me want to kill someone.

"Really? Because normally a tough old cop like you has a soft spot for a younger one, a more naive cop, you know, like your protégée. Except the kid you're training doesn't really fit that bill does he. Are you jealous of him? Is that why you're so angry?!"

I am really considering getting up and walking out of the office, because if I am really close to doing something that might get me arrested.

"Or is it because he's just like you?"

"You better watch what you say next-"

"Or what?!" She snarls, not intimidated by my tone.

"You gonna shoot me and have Voight help you bury the body? Here's a new flash-Hanks about as much help as a dead cat right now, and that's if you could find him. See, that anger you're feeling? It's not because of me. You were angry long before you came here and trust me, all I did was the bring the reason for your anger to the forefront."

"You're hating yourself right now. That anger is what you want to feel. It's what you've convinced everyone including yourself that it's how you're coping. But the truth is, you're not angry...not in the slightest. How could you be angry at the person the person you care so much for?"

I can't look at her anymore. I can't. I've been to shrink after shrink, with all my years in the department, and every time they've helped, but every time they've been different. They knew nothing about me, and frankly they didn't really care. We were both just there because it was mandatory for a paycheck.

This girl on the other hand, knows everything. She doesn't just think she does, no, I found out quickly in the first session that she does actually know everything about me. About everyone really. I'd like to say she picked to the wrong profession, because she could've been the country's top profiler. She's kind of a rough therapist.

She's always right though. And right now she's hitting the nail on the head.

"Alvin." Her voice is softer now, caring but not judging. Something I tried to be for him. Look where that got us.

"I know you don't know how to feel right now. And I know you're scared but you don't know why. I understand that. Jay was everything you were when you were younger, except maybe he was a little more damaged. You wanted to be there for him because despite what he showed everyone else, you knew he was hurt. You knew he was struggling long before Nadia was even in the unit. You saw the same bruises on his soul that ringed yours. And you knew they weren't going to fade. But you hoped, that maybe you could help him deal with them."

"No."

"No?"

"No, he was already dealing with them. I just let him know that if he ever got tired of fighting his demons, or if he ever got lost in the process, I'd be there. At least, that's what I tried to do." It's easier to meet her eyes, now that it doesn't feel like I'm getting told off by someone twenty years younger than me.

That was a big thing when we first started. It was kind of weird, the veteran cop getting forced to sit down in the same room as a veteran psychoanalyst, with over a two decade age gap in between. It's gotten better, especially after I figured out that there's a lot more to this girl then her sarcastic remarks. She's seen some shit, and it was enough to give her a 'no bullshit' attitude. You can tell with some people. It's like a secret little club, all of us who are damaged. You can tell, just by the things people say, by the way people look at the world.

She looks at us differently than anyone else. I suppose that would be why we got 'assigned' to her. Or perhaps, more like why she asked for us.

"He knew."

"Excuse me?"

"He knew that you were there. And if you were to have left he would've become even more unstable. He just didn't...I don't know. He never saw you as an outlet more as...a protector. Someone who was looking out for him maybe."

I scrub a hand across my face, sighing in tiredness.

"Yeah well. Whatever he thought of me I didn't really do that good of a job of."

"You think you didn't protect him?"

"He was kidnapped and tortured for two days under our watch, and Erin and Nadia were murdered because we couldn't get to them in time. We do a better job protecting criminals instead of our own." My voice is laced with undisguised malice, although not aimed towards her. She takes it in stride, barely blinking before continuing her barrage of hard pressing questions, face just as impassive as the day I met her.

"I wasn't asking if Intelligence protected him. I was asking you did."

"No! Is this what you wanted to hear? No, I didn't watch out for him and No I didn't protect him like I should have, but damn it the kid didn't exactly make it easy for people to care about him!" She pauses for a second, and a million emotions flash across her face, too quick for me to catch anything other than a daring excitement.

"So you blame him for this?!"

"Of course not! This was just how he grew up, it's...it was how he learned to cope with things and I understand the thought process but I figured after he saw where that got Erin, he wouldn't…." I take a deep breath, feeling my age more than ever.

"I just wanted him to let someone in. It didn't need to be me, although I would have liked it to be. I was watching him fall lower and lower and I thought that if I tried to force him into anything he would fall even faster. Its why I never suggested him take time off. I knew losing the badge would be that last straw."

My eyes find her face, searching for some form of animosity or defensiveness at the mention of her decision. I know a lot of people in intelligence held some form of anger towards her decision to take Jay off the force. Even though she made it clear it could be indefinitely, I never found a real problem with it. Probably because it was something that needed to be done.

I just couldn't do it myself.

Her eyes narrow, mouth opening to speak, but I cut her off before she finds the words to defend herself.

"It wasn't. I know that. When he was shot, it became pretty clear he couldn't hold the badge anymore. It was too dangerous, for us and for him." She raises her chin, eyes still uncertain.

"You're talking about the Gilmore case, correct?"

"Yes."

"Right…" She pauses, looking at me thoughtfully. I can almost see her trying to put the puzzle pieces together in her head. Her eyebrows scrunch as she fails at her task.

"And this convinced you...how exactly?"

"He, uh...wasn't as aware of his surroundings as he needed to be." She shrugs.

"Everyone gets distracted sometimes. Besides he didn't as for the guy to shoot at him."

"No. At least, not verbally."

"What?"

"Lady, these are chicago criminals we're talking about. If they don't shoot at us, then they are running from us. There is no such thing as being 'distracted' on the job."

"But the man could have surprised him."

"...maybe."

"So how did you know it was his fault?" I clear my throat, trying and failing horribly to hide my discomfort at her question.

"I saw it happen."

"Halstead, get down!" I duck behind a pillar, immediately assuming he'll react to my command.

He doesn't.

He doesn't even blink. In that split second he had to get himself to safety, that split second of warning that I gave him to save his life, he doesn't move. He just stays stock still, swaying slightly like in a trance.

The man's semi-auto fires. Time seems to slow down as I watch Jay get hit. His body twists with each impact, as there must be more than one for him to move like that. His head snaps back, then suddenly his shoulder takes over the backwards momentum and yanks his body to the side where he gets it with one more, smack in the center of the chest. It sends him flying, a loud smack echoing as his gear and body meet the ground at different times.

He doesn't move.

"But you did much more than that didn't you?"

"I don't-"

"You brought him back. That's no easy task, you know." It pains me to know that she's speaking from experience.

"And you brought him back after being shot, rather quickly mind you. Care to explain how?"

"Dawson! Halstead's down!" I hear the other man's voice over the radio, requesting back up and an ambulance.

"Cover me!" Ruzek complies, rising slightly and firing shot after shot as I run. I manage to slide to my knees next to him, ignoring the twinge of pain that comes from them as I flip a table for cover. A few bullets imbed themselves into the metal, but none get through, and we are well hidden behind it.

The gunfire shifts, and I hear Adam call out.

"Al, Dawson needs helps!"

"Go, I got him!" There's the sound of running feet, then the open room becomes quiet, save for my panting and another, harsher wheezing sound that accounts for Jay breathing. Pushing my way over to him, I can see I was right about the location of the bullets. Two slugs sit in his vest, one on the shoulder, where he's lucky it hit the small patch of kevlar instead of his collarbone that was less than a centimeter to the right. The other bullets sits where his sternum is, and instantly I know this is going to be trouble.

Jay's been having panic attacks. I don't know if everyone has figured it out yet, but if they have, they don't know how bad they really are. I only know because Mouse told me, because he trusted me and knew he couldn't always be there. We still don't quite know what triggers them, but I know when ever he feels corned, whenever things get too chaotic and messy, he gets this look in his eye. And if his breathing varies in anyway, he shuts down.

And right now, given his current predicament, breathing is going to be a very hard task for him.

My focus moves to his head, where his wide, dilated pupils stare at nothing, and recognize nothing. His lips are starting to turn blue with lack of oxygen, so while I talk to him, telling him he's safe, my hands rip open his vest, tearing off the straps to loosen the oppressive material.

A tiny cry brings my attention back up to his face, where his eyes have clouded with fear and confusion, and where I can see the perfectly made gash running into his hairline. Terror spikes though me, terror of losing another team mate so soon after Erin. Terror of him letting go right after we pulled him back. Terror of losing him in general.

My fingers follow the gash, and I find it disappears before reaching the back of his head. With a sigh I realize the bullet never actually entered his skull, although it came so close to doing so.

"Jay." I whisper, cupping his face with my hands. Still no comprehension in his eyes. Just strangled gasps that are too small and take too much effort to complete.

"Look at me kid, please. C'mon Jay. I'm right here. I've got you kid, you're safe. I'm not going anywhere." His green/blue eyes flutter for a second, recognition flashing briefly before disappearing back underneath a wave of memories. He gasps at the same time, taking a semi normal breath and then reverting back to barely breathing at all.

"Listen to me Jay, you aren't there anymore. You hearin' me Jay, whatever you're seeing you aren't there, it's not happening again. I need you to focus Halstead, I need you concentrate on me." Another half breath. Another flicker of himself.

"That's it. That's it Jay, come on. See me, right here, right now." He's fighting, he is, but it's not fast enough, he's going to lose consciousness if he doesn't start inhaling air right now.

My hands hits his cheek hard enough to bruise, the sharp crack surprising me.

Footsteps pound behind me as Jay inhales, gulping air like someone tried to drown him. An articulate moan floats from him as I frantically yell at him, ordering him to respond and let me know he isn't still lost.

Dawson kneels next to me as Jay finally return to reality.

"Al-" He gasps, still struggling for air but making more progress on that front than before.

"I'm right here Jay. You're okay. You're safe." Antonio sends me a confused look, but doesn't say anything, instead helping Jay sit up, resting his back against the concrete pillar slightly behind him. Jay's eyes stare at me the whole time, fear and confusion still lingering in them as well as embarrassment. No thanks or gratefulness. No, he is too ashamed about what just happened to thank me for pulling him out of whatever hell hole he was swimming in. He's too lost.

That look still rests in his eyes, less obvious now, guarded by walls erected a long time ago. Walls that are failing, because I can almost see through them, and he knows it.

He has been falling and I have been watching. The only difference is now I can see how close he is to the bottom.

I don't want to know what happens when he reaches it.

"That's when I knew he needed help."

She nods, her face carefully neutral, just as it had been the last ten minutes as I recounted my experience.

"You slapped him?"

I shrug.

"Desperate times…" Her eyes narrow, that speculative look back on her face..

"But he recognized you. When you were talking, you said that brought him back."

"Only for a second...I...Maybe I imagined it-"

"No." She isn't looking at me, eyes still focused on piece of wall she isn't really seeing, her mind going a million miles an hour if her expression is anything to go by.

"Excuse me?"

"No, you read Jay even better than Antonio does. He saw you. In the middle of a flashback you pulled him out of it, even if for a second." Her eyes sparkle with excitement, and dread fills me at the sight. She better not be thinking what I-

"But he was embarrassed afterwards right, like he didn't want you to see that part of him?"

"If you want to interpret it that way…" She stares at me in awe.

"It's you."

"What?"

"You're the missing piece. It's you."

"Look, I don't-"

"Do you understand what you did? That was one less than a week before we had our first session, where he was at his absolute lowest. After we started meeting, he never went backwards. Every session we got further, he improved more." She leans forward.

"You got through to him, in the literal worst time of his life, during one of the thinnest points of his sanity. You brought him back then. You can do it now."

Yep. She was thinking what I thought she was thinking. Except instead of protesting, I just sit there silently, like a rookie getting reprimanded, trying to figure out an excuse.

"It fits so perfectly. You're the one he talks about. Wow." She leans back into her chair, smirking as something finally clicks.

"He...what?!" Her hands lift from where they were folded on her notebook, spreading in a placating manner.

"Not verbally. But sometimes I'd mention something, or someone, and he would stop for a second, quiet, before saying a two word answer. Then he'd be subdued the rest of the time, until we hit a different subject that made him focus on something else. I couldn't find a relationship between the subjects, and he always had this look in his eyes when it happened, like he was caught up thinking of something. Now, I see it's a someone."

"Okay, hold on a second. I haven't seen Jay in weeks-"

"Yeah, and who's fault is that? His? Mine? I can't make you do anything you don't already want to Mr. Olinski."

Somehow, I doubt that.

"I tell you what. You have two options. Either you reach out to Jay-" I inhale sharply, ready to protest for real this time, but she raises her hand, shooting me a warning look, like a mother scolding a child.

"Or…you can reach out to Hank Voight. Your choice."

"Is it?" I ask, subtly calling her out. She smirks, but seems unafraid to admit it.

"Yes, I'd prefer you talk to Jay first. He needs you."

"He needs Will. And Mouse." And Erin.

"Not me."

"Why? Because you think you are more screwed up than him right now, and that by being near him you will somehow expel this evil energy and make him lose all the progress he's made? Here's a news flash for you honey-that's not how this works." I sigh. Her sass never ceases to disappoint.

"You being near him will not hurt him. It will help him heal. It will help both of you heal. He needs to get used to seeing the member of intelligence again and you need to get used to the idea that he is not the fragmented version Jay Halstead you remember. He isn't going to shatter into a million pieces just because you are around."

My hand scrubs my face again, a thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of my nose in the hopes it will alleviate tension growing in temples.

"I don't know how to help him. I wouldn't even begin to know what to say, how to act, what I can bring up, what I can't-" My protests are cut short, by a voice that lets me know she already made up her mind and I'm doing this, whether I like it or not.

"Al, you don't need to. Just being there is going to motivate him to keep trying."

"But what if-"

"Are you going to judge him?"

"No."

"Are you going to hurt him?"

"No."

"Are you going to think less of him because of what happened and how he reacted?" I jerk forward in my seat, angered by her audacity.

"Of course not! Why the hell would I?" She clicks her pen, uncrosses her legs, and writes something down on a little note pad from her desk.

"You sir, just heard his biggest fears...and responded correctly to all of them." She doesn't look while she writes, just speaks then tears off the piece of paper, holding it out to me. On it is an address with business hours, followed by two phone numbers, a pair of initials next to each.

"That's neutral ground for him and you. First number is mine, second it Jays. I want you to text me when you finally get the balls to ask him to meet you, and then text me again if you both show up. I don't need details, just let me know its happening, so I can be prepared for any fall out." I suck in a breath, staring at the piece of simple note paper.

"I thought you said he wouldn't go backwards." She rolls her eyes.

"No, but he'll call me freaking out like a teenage girl who got asked by her crush to go to prom. I'd rather that call not come in during a session with another patient. I think you can understand where I'm coming from on that one." I grimaced, thinking of a phone call like that coming in during a briefing.

"Yeah. I got it." She leans forward and shakes my hand, the traditional end to our meetings.

"Don't forget your homework Olinski."

"Never." I scoff, snatching the piece of paper from my pocket and waving it around dramatically. As I stand and reach the door I hear her last parting remark, making me smile ruefully.

"You better not. At this point Jay is closer to getting his badge back then and Antonio combined."

Jackass.


So I'm posting this against my better judgement in the middle of finals week, so my brain is fried (hence any grammer errors) but Its something right? Now you know all why Jay officially got his badge taken away...you just have no idea why Al got his taken away, or Antonio and Voight's AWOL...until next chapter. *grins evilly* its all starting to come together now. MY CREATION IS COMING TO LIFE AHAHAHAAAA

*shoves mr. hyde back in the closet.* sorry bout that. Get out your tissue boxes ladies and gents because up next...the funeral.

Review please!