Title: Onward, Thankfully

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 holiday season begins after a year of struggle that looks like it's going to continue onward for lengths unknown. Erin comes home for Thanksgiving posed for some big conversations while her family grapples with their own struggles - illness, PTSD, shifting relationships and challenges on the job in New York and Chicago. Set in the Interesting Dynamics AU and post-S4 finale.

SPOILER ALERT: There are MAJOR spoilers in this collection from Interesting Dynamics, So This is Christmas, Scenes, Aftermath, So It Goes, The Way From Here (including chapters/scenes in So It Goes that have not yet been written or posted), and Hereafter. This series also contains SPOILERS related to SEASON 5 of Chicago PD.

The outing just kept going after that. It was pretty command and conquer. It wasn't just the envelopes and the budget that Voight had all planned out. It was the route. The stores he was going to hit. And what he was going to get in each store.

He had the week's – and the season's – flyers and catalogues in the backseat. He sat flipping through a couple of them in the parking lot before they'd gone into places. Jay had again tried to show him that there was an app for that. A quick way to look up where things were and what the best price was. But Voight had barely acknowledged he'd spoken. He had his way of doing things. And that was it.

That was always it. A lot of the time, it seemed. Though, Erin said it was less anymore. Or it was different. That Voight … Hank … had changed. That he'd changed since his wife died and his kid got hurt. That he changed again when Justin got himself in shit and the both of them in lock-up. That he was changed when he got out. That he changed when Eth came home – and when the kid got diagnosed. That he changed when he became a grandfather. He'd changed when he lost Justin and all the fall-out and adjustment with that. And he'd changed again – had to adjust again – that spring and that summer and now this fall. With Erin away. And Ethan sick. And the job and what it was and what it'd become.

So maybe they'd all changed. Maybe Jay was having to change again. Erin was. Hank likely would. Eth likely would too. Maybe they all would again.

And Jay wasn't sure what that meant or how he'd fit into it. If he could fit into it in a way that felt comfortable or made sense. Or if he could have both those things at the same time. Somehow he didn't think it was the same as having rugged good looks and a razor sharp mind. That was rare enough. He knew this – getting his cake and eating it too … with making a relationship work, becoming a family, and feeling like he somehow fit comfortably into what was Erin's fucked-up family … was likely too much to ask for. Maybe sort of outside of his reach.

Really, he sort of felt like he wasn't even ticking off the rugged good looks and razor sharp mind thing these days. You can't when you take the effort to numb yourself. Even if he was working to tone that down some. That he was weaning himself so he could … be the person that Erin needed him to be. That what was coming in May … what that would need him to be. But he hadn't been able to go cold turkey. He wished he could. And maybe he needed too. So … he didn't make more mistakes like this. Like not getting back to Eth on the chaperone thing. Like getting roped into a Christmas shopping outing with Voight and not putting the pieces together in a more expedient way. And then not having the sense to fucking bail when he did.

But maybe … there was something to be said for doing things your own way. Maybe that was the trick to form and function in this. A family. With Erin. The due date that seemed to be looming way too soon in May. That would be here … he knew in a blink of an eye. And he knew he couldn't just … look cool. They couldn't just try to look like a family. That they had to be a real one. And he wanted within that for them to feel good too. For it to feel … right, normal. Comfortable. Functional. To have form and function.

Erin seemed to have a knack for … somehow … managing to get form and function to jive. For all her flub ups – she managed to get the two to mesh. Or she had in the past. And she was acting like she was … she was going to achieve that again now. That she was confident in her ability to do that. And maybe it was all just a good act. A front. Because when you're half-a-country apart and barely seeing each other accept on screens, it's … easier to pretend. But he was having to trust that … she was still … working toward form and function. And that she'd picked him in the past. That she seemed like … she still wanted him … or was at least giving him the opportunity … to be a part of this now. So maybe she was pinning him for his form and function again. Or pinning them together to manage to pull of form and function as a family.

A family. It was a fucking scary thought. He kept thinking about it. And sometimes he felt excited. But then he felt like he was romanticizing the whole thing. Because he knew it wasn't going to be easy. He knew … he knew that him and Erin … they should be or needed to be … working on themselves. As people and as a couple. Figuring out how that worked and how they worked and how to make it work. And now … it wasn't really going to work like that anymore. It wouldn't just be about them. They weren't going to be a couple. They were going to be a family. And it was that word – that institution – it really fucking scared him.

He was going to be a father. A head of a household. Technically. Though, Erin would likely hate him thinking of it that way. It was too archaic. But maybe he was … she knew it too … sort of an old fashioned guy. Sometimes. And this … it meant … he was going to have lives and people he was going to be responsible for. Not just him. Not even just Erin. A family that he'd need to help grow and take care of and nurture and just not fuck them up.

Jay still wasn't sure he really knew how to do that. Or what example he had in any of that. If he even knew his way around that.

So … maybe there was even something to be said about doing it Voight's way. Sometimes. For things like this. Because Maybe Hank knew what he was talking about. Had his shit together on hit like this.

Maybe it was like he'd asked Dawson … fucking years ago … if he steered clear or if he learned from him. And Antonio's answer had been both. And that was likely still true now. But maybe in some ways Jay was … just ready to learn. Because where the hell else was he going to get a lesson? Not from his father. Not from his brother. Not from the guys he went and sat in that basement with and tried to get his head on straight. Because they seemed to have fewer answer than him. When he … he wanted them to … show him the way to deal with all of this.

They'd gone into a hobby shop. Baseball cards. Hank could've picked those up anywhere. But Jay was pretty sure that the shop they'd gone into was the same shop that Voight had been going into his whole life. That somehow the little hobby and collectible store was still managing to survive in the neighborhood. And maybe that said something. Jay was unsure if it said a good thing about the community and the clientele and what was actually being sold or not.

Jay actually wonder that more and more. Some of the people Voight associated with. The businesses he patronized. The line about his wife's father being a 'mechanic'. He didn't want to go all Hollywood mobster movie or Chicago or Italian-American stereotypical bias. But there'd been more than once where he'd wondered what exactly "mechanic" at an "auto shop" in fucking Chicago's previous Little Italy meant.

Just how … Voight got wrapped up into that family and his Social Club and scuzzy places like this that looked legit enough but that you had to wonder how they managed to keep operating in the 21st century and in a neighborhood that was being taken over by university professors, college students and the medical and paraprofessionals that were spilling over into it. They weren't exactly the kind of people you expected to be buying Italian ice, sorting through old collectibles, browsing around used book shops, sitting down for pasta on a daily basis or going down to the delicatessen to yak it up over a good spicy salami and coffee for hours on end. But maybe it was this … people like Voight who had stuck it out in the neighborhood and still kept on coming in here – or the ones who came back to visit their aging parents and their childhood stomping grounds and swung buy to do a pity-buy – that kept it afloat.

Voight again chatted up the young guy at the counter. And they waited when Hank was insistent that he wanted at least one pack of the holiday release from Topps.

"What's the point when you're just getting a single pack?" Jay had muttered at him when the wait drew on – because the guy was trying to sell Hank a whole box.

Voight only wanted a single pack. And the guy didn't want to break open a new box for a one-pack sale. And there'd been a lot of back-and-forth of him going into the back and talking back-and-forth with whoever was back there. Like this was some sort of decision that was going to make-or-break the whole business.

Voight must've known the guy in the back. There'd been calls back there. "Don't be a jagoff, Harry. Know if you open the box, you'll have nine other dads in there buying the rest of the packs for their kiddos by the time Santa's stuffing the stockings on the twenty-fourth."

But it seemed … just … Jay didn't see the point. A single pack?

Hank had just looked at him. "Tradition," he said.

And Jay knew Eth liked his traditions. That the kid was borderline obsessive compulsive about them – whether they actually existed or not. Just like he'd already been told that him and Erin were expected to take him to Star Wars. Just like he also expected him and Erin to host his great holiday cookie bake-off. Two things that Jay wasn't entirely sure how he knew how they'd become traditions. But apparently they were. To Eth. Now.

But he wasn't too sure why getting a pack of cards that had some red and green on the front and some metallic snowflakes etched into the cardboard was really going to make-or-break the holidays. Why this was on the list of must-keep traditions. Beyond the obvious of … Eth and time and illness.

And it was just this whole other layer to what all was going on that he hadn't really been able to let himself wade into. Because Jay was afraid he might lose himself if he had that to everything else. The PTSD – Afghanistan, his latest shootings, IA, the job, Erin, the pregnancy, family, his childhood – that was enough. He knew he was teetering. He knew he was seeking out ways to numb it all. He couldn't dig too far into the stuff going on with Eth. Because that sent him down … his mom. And this time of year. The anniversary coming up and the number attached to it. The years gone by that she wasn't there. And now what she also wouldn't be there for come May. What she was missing. And what he'd missed in those weeks and months before he'd come home. Before he'd come back. And the man he'd come back as – to all that – who wasn't her son. And with her being … too far gone. He should've come back sooner. He should've done so many things differently.

And he just couldn't go there with Eth. It was hard. It was really fucking hard seeing him like this. Looking him in the eye. Trying to be there for him. And knowing he was failing. And knowing that Erin was missing it too. And having a reasonable idea of what that was going to mean for her too. The kind of things she'd carry because of that when it was all said and done. And his compliance in that.

He just … couldn't do it. He avoided it. And a lot of times it seemed to mean he was avoiding Eth lately. Because … he didn't feel like he was in a place that he was much good for the kid.

And if he wasn't good for the kid … how could he be good to some other little human being?

He couldn't even – didn't even want to – try to keep up 'traditions'. Or that's what he thought.

"It's just going to be a handful of random cards he gets," Jay provided.

Hank grunted and shrugged. "He likes the look of them. Maybe he'll pull a good one. Trade or sell it for some more packs. Series he collects instead."

Jay just made a noise and again leaned against the counter in wait. Again assessed this other shop that was making him a little claustrophobic. Though, he had been in this one a handful of times with Eth. But dropping cash on baseball cards wasn't really his thing. He didn't think it'd really been Eth's that year either.

But tradition.

"Thing is," Voight said, setting his ass against the counter too and gazing at the shop, "you set up these little traditions. Little things. My pop brought me here. I brought my boys here. Will bring H here as long as it's around. Little things. For day-to-day. For the holidays. Nothing fancy. Doesn't have to be. Can keep expectations low. But, over time, those little things – a pack of baseball cards – start to carry a lot of meaning. Financially," he shrugged, water off his back. "But the investment of time – thought – into your kids. Those memories. Traditions. Pays dividends."

And he just turned back to the cash and leaned there – waiting. Leaving Jay to look at him.

Traditions. He wasn't sure how many of them he had. From his childhood. Or the makings of his father. Maybe some from his mom. Maybe others from his grandfather. But that his dad had established for them? To carry on into their lives? To pass on?

But it was … a fucking theme throughout the outing. Tradition.

They bounced around a few shops in the neighborhood. Butcher, baker and candlestick maker. That's what Erin joked. Voight's shopping and grocery run technique. But it wasn't a bad summary of how Voight treated those sorts of things.

They were all just in-and-out. But Jay still got out of the car. He followed along. Maybe he was trying to learn something. From him. Or maybe he was just doing his duty. Jotting down the figures that came up on the tills and subtracting them from the stocking envelope.

It was more special orders that Voight was picking up – a few holiday sweets and 'chocolate' that Eth could apparently eat. These little treats that cost an arm and a leg for a single treat. But while Voight negotiated the price of near everything else – there wasn't a comment out of him about the cost of these things. Because they were "for special" and "give him a treat" so he "doesn't feel left out" and because the kid had "got to live too".

Voight gathered some other food items from the Old Countries – his and his wife's – that apparently the guy still liked to have around the house and on the table at the holidays.

"Don't look," Voight had … almost teased … ? … him at one point while Jay was staring at … nothing really. But at the dried meat and the spicy mustards and couple bottle of hot sauce and infused olive oils that had been placed up front waiting for him.

Jay blinked at the sundries and squinted at Voight. He didn't know what he was thinking about. Not then. And maybe not now either.

He was thinking … that … somewhere in that evening … they'd evolved into just … talking to each other. Not deep indepth conversations. But exchanging words and sentences in a way that they didn't usually. Not during their "personal" time. Not outside of work.

Even though … they'd had some talks outside of work. Because they had to. It still … it usually felt like they didn't have much to talk about. That Voight didn't much want to talk to him. Or relate to him. And maybe Jay didn't really want that either. Because sometimes talking – trying to be more than just professional – it seemed to complicate it all.

But they'd talked that night. Just like … two guys picking up holiday stuff? For people they cared about?

Jay wasn't sure that was something he'd ever really done before. Not in that way.

But they'd talked. They'd exchanged random words and sentences and thoughts about what they were doing in the moment and opinions on what was being bought and more.

And maybe the more was the problem. Because the more was always what Jay tried to avoid. To keep it professional. To hold his cards close to his chest. And to not let anyone in. To not have unwarranted eyes on him. To not have judgements made against him. To just try to blend in. That was his job. That was what he needed to do to survive. To just go unnoticed.

But there'd been a lot of times the past few months where he hadn't accomplished that. And he hadn't accomplished it that night either.

He had Hank's attention. He shouldn't have. He shouldn't have let it get to that. But he had. Unfortunately.

"Going to ruin your stocking," Hank smacked.

Jay rotated back to the counter and stared more. He shook his head. Trying to comprehend and process. To read the joke – or non-joke. Because did Voight ever joke? Not really.

"Erin said we were responsible for each others this year," he said. "That you wanted us to tone it down on Eth and H's too. Nothing or one thing each?"

Voight just grunted. "That the thing she's going to pick to listen to me on?" Another joke? Or just reality. He took the bag from the girl at the cash. "Can't pack this all away myself. Won't do anything for my cougar-like physique."

And Jay again stared at him as he moved toward the door more like a bulldog than any sort of cougar he'd encountered. And he measured if that was another … almost yet another joke out of Voight. Because those were few and far between. And he wasn't sure how to read them. Not when he was sharing those … little comments with him, directing them at him … not Erin or Eth or his grandson. They were tossed out there for him.

Hank had dragged him out of his house – his basement, his hole – maybe not for Erin. Or for Eth or to guilt trip him about not showing up at Eth's Christmas party thing. That maybe he'd … shown up specifically for him?

That maybe this was about him? And that made Jay feel uncomfortable too. And maybe that should've been the point he bailed. High-tailed it back to the townhouse and away from whatever this was.

Because it made him uncomfortable. It made him uncomfortable to as he measured if … if the joke mean … Voight was … still … picking up a few things to put in the stocking … for him …?

For him? When he was a grown man. When he was … new to the … family ...? Still. When he felt like an outsider who wasn't too sure of his place … still. And how that felt … the added layer and confusion and built when he knew … Erin was pregnant. And when … Hank knew that him and Erin were still … still whatever they were right now. Even though they were trying. Trying so fucking hard to be more and to be better and to fix this and to get it to the place it needed to be. To the place that made since. Now. And in May. And … for the next eighteen years. Or … really … the rest of his life.

But that was the thing too. This. The pregnancy. Thinking about … all of it. It … it was driving home for him how much he actually was in love with Erin. Still in love with Erin.

And it wasn't that he'd fallen out of love. He knew he wasn't over her. It was just … they were in a place … he was and she was … that he wasn't sure they'd realistically work it out in a way that would work out. That made any sense. But that had been before she'd told him.

Now? Now … he was thinking about her … constantly. He was thinking about … what they could be. And her … just this completely fucking cliché … that she had this glow coming off her right now. And it wasn't the pregnancy. Or maybe it was. But … it was this comfortable confidence he saw in her. The stability in her that scared him because he didn't feel it in him – but that also … it excited him. It'd stirred up that want and lust and love in him. The love. Just this ache for her – and for the family they could make. And to be a part of it. And to have her back more fully in his life. And in his day-to-day. And them back in the same place. Her back home and in the townhouse and … his reality.

It was just this feeling. It was confusing. Because it didn't … feel … like the times he'd maybe panicked or maybe rushed thing or maybe was a little too much like his brother when it came to love and relationships and women. And it was a different feeling than the love he'd had for her before. It was like … it'd grown. It'd become more urgent. Or … deeper.

That was likely the word he was looking for. Deeper. Like it'd reached down into that hole he didn't really want to admit that maybe he'd fallen into. And it was grabbing at him and it was trying to pull him back out.

And he really wanted to let it. He wasn't to just … fucking float like some sort of cartoon dog with hearts in his eyes … up and out of there. And to this life that could potentially be his.

But that scared him too. And it just didn't feel as easy as it seemed. He felt like he was too heavy to float. Not matter how much he wanted to.

But – fuck – he wanted … he needed … out of that hole.

AUTHOR NOTE:

OK. I'm doing a Jay POV ramble. Planned direction, unplanned chapter/scene structure.

Splitting again. Should just be one more. Might be posted later today or tomorrow. So check back.

Your readership, reviews, comments and feedback are appreciated.