Title: Scenes
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: A collection of one-shots/scenes using the characters as represented in the AU established in Interesting Dynamics. The chapters currently represent scenes happening immediately after So This is Christmas. As I continue to update, they'll just provide one-shot snap shots into the characters' lives and likely some recasts of scenes from the show. This series focuses on Voight and his family, as well as Erin Lindsay's growing relationship with Jay Halstead. This is not a linear narrative with a beginning-middle-end. It's just scenes.
SPOILER ALERT: There are MAJOR spoilers in this collection from Interesting Dynamics and So This is Christmas.
Voight came out of his office as he heard the now familiar clicking of his youngest coming up the stairs into his bullpen. It was a slow process – his boy on the stairs. Halstead appeared first and gave him a look, as he frowned from his office door. The guy had a look that meddled sympathy and disgust but he didn't say anything. He just looked back down the stairs and waited until E appeared at the top, Erin taking up the rear – making sure that her little brother didn't have any stumbles and needed someone to grab for him with his clumsy feet and delayed reactions with his hands.
Ethan gave him an embarrassed look and glanced around the rest of the bullpen – taking in the rest of the detectives who were in that day. They were looking at him. Magoo hated being looked at – especially anymore. It used to be about the scars on his face. But now it was all about those crutches.
Erin just gave him a little shake of the head and shrug as she got to the top of the stairs. That was really all she needed to say. He could read through the lines for the rest.
J had managed to stick his foot in his mouth. Or worse. His two boys spending some time together hadn't happened. Or better – it had and it'd upset his youngest. Obviously badly if he was opting to spend his afternoon here rather than at the movies or at home in front of the TV or hiding out in his room.
Voight didn't need to speculate too much on what J might've said or done. His attitude toward E had been showing since Christmas Day and it'd only been growing. It was so fucking annoying. J insisted on being kept abreast of everything that was going on with E's health – no matter how distracting it might be to his own situation. And after some of their family's turbulence over the summer and with E's homecoming and health decline, he'd honored that request. He got on the horn to J or Olive after every doctor or hospital visit. Or had Erin put in the call. And on the phone – J was a saint to his little brother. Expressed concern, asked questions, goofed off with him. Set up all this excitement about older brother coming home. And then when he got home it was just disappointment after disappointment.
Voight had tried to be patient about it. As was usual for him, he created all sorts of excuses for his son. That it was hard to see E like this. That it was a shock to see him on crutches or tremoring. To be reminded how his brain wasn't snapping quite the same way anymore. To see him need help with what might've been – or should be – simple things: cutting his food, managing a pen, getting a fork or spoon up to his mouth, reading, not ending up with piss all over himself or leaving a Hershey trail in his shorts because he couldn't manage cleaning up after himself quite the same way anymore. There were lots of changes. And it was hard to see. But the person it should be most upsetting for was E. Everyone else around him just needed to rally. Not give him shit. But J only seemed to be able to rally from a distance. In the house, he became a fucking asshole. And Voight had trouble understanding how he could be that hard and impatient on his little brother. Let alone be that way now that he was a father too. How he could treat a child like that when he had a child of his own. How'd he feel if something like that happened to H and if someone was treating his boy the way he was treating E?
J would be bashing skulls. Voight would be bailing him out of jail and dealing with more assault charges. That's what would be happening. But apparently it was OK for him to be an ass to Ethan.
Only it wasn't. And he was becoming increasingly frustrated with it. E didn't need that right now. He was low enough after his stay in the hospital. He was scared enough about all the crap he was going to take from the other kids when he went back to school. He didn't need his brother just reaffirming that.
Erin brushed by him without a word, taking off her jacket and draping it over the back of her chair at her desk.
"You talk to the guy?" he asked.
"Yea," she nodded and gave a vague nod at Halstead, like he was going to get to be responsible for giving him the rundown. Likely meant it hadn't been an overly productive shakedown – or else she'd be claiming partial responsibility for getting some mouth-time in there.
He glanced at Halstead, who seemed distracted with jabbing at keys on his computer. The way the guy pounded at the thing, he was amazed they weren't having to replace keyboards in the barn more often. All of them were fucking bulls in a china shop with that kind of stuff.
So instead, he shifted his eyes back to Magoo's slow process across the bullpen. Whatever Lindsay and Halstead had or hadn't accomplished could obviously wait. It'd pretty much been make busy work anyways. Give them a short break from paperwork so that he could partially mute the instrumental huffs and groans he heard outside his office door from the lot of them. They were driving him fucking crazy with it. Especially Ruzek. That guy sounded like paperwork was on par with passing a fucking kidney stone.
"Sorry, Dad," he said quietly.
But Voight shook his head and put his one arm around the kid in a loose half-hug. About as much as he was willing to give that publicly and as much as the kid could handle on his crutches anyways.
"Don't think you're the one that ought to be handing out apologies," he muttered.
E made a little dejected noise. Seemed like most of his noises had that tone to them lately. Every time Voight that maybe he'd achieved something to build his kid up a little bit – it just seemed to come tumbling right back down.
"C'mon," Voight nudged him toward the break room. "We'll get you set up with a movie or something in there."
"Not Star Wars," E mumbled.
And Voight let out a little noise of his own. Pure frustration. How could J fuck up sitting through a movie with his brother? He didn't know what was easier – yesterday and him having to check on him in the afternoon after his appointment or going and sitting with him in a dark theater for a couple hours? Neither were exactly challenging proposals. They could've had a decent time. Done some brotherly shit. Talked sports. J could've taught him poker with that fucking set E picked for him. Sat through Monopoly. Told him about his Signal Corps prep while showing him something with the Snap Circuits. Watched one of the James Bond movies Erin had given J. Played something on the fucking Xbox. Gone through the baseball cards. Goof around with H together. Take him for some fries. None of this had to be fucking rocket science. Why did Justin have to make it so fucking difficult? E wasn't a hard kid to entertain. And right now – E knew his limits. He was still tired. He was still hurting. He was still figuring out how to maneuver himself. It wasn't like he was overdoing thing.
"Yea," Voight allowed. "Not Star Wars."
He wondered if J realized that by giving up that opportunity meant that E would just get it with someone else. With Michelle. Or with him. Or with Erin and Halstead. Someone. Someone who wasn't him. Because he couldn't hold his tongue and just play along with the fucking twelve-year-old for a couple hours. Meanwhile, E had sucked up and done a lot of shit that was likely low on his list of wants on the weekend: skating, a hockey game, watching H's shows on the TV. But his kid in his 20s couldn't suck it up?
Justin let his ego get in the way too much sometimes. Sometimes he couldn't see passed his own nose. Too much. Too fucking much.
"Thanks for not sucking," E said to him mutely as they got some privacy in the break room, as Voight pulled out a chair at the table for him.
"Yea," Voight sighed. "Let's all try not to suck for another bit here."
Sad part … Ethan would likely be able to handle that. Justin … he wasn't going to hold his breath.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Reviews, feedback and comments are appreciated. The next chapter might jump ahead a bit.