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 stared at his two remaining kids. Them over there at the counter. Erin in coaching mode. Big sister mode. Mother mode. Not just that – showing her baby brother something that Camille had shown her. Years ago. A simple apple crumble recipe that she'd somehow retained or was doing a bit of making up as she went along by the looks of it. But E had dived into the instruction none-the-less.
He'd been trying to be discrete about watching them. Been doing his best to stay out of the way. Just let them do their thing, but Erin had kept giving him glances. She'd likely prefer he go sit in the front room but Halstead was out there. Sitting with him was bit more awkward – for the both of them – than sitting at the kitchen table with his second cup of brew that day and the paper.
Supposed he could go sit in the dining room and gave them some space. But truth was he liked watching them. Liked being near them. Seeing this. Maybe the deeper truth was that he hoped it'd prompt Erin into saying more than some passing sentences to him. Have some sort of conversation. And failing that, he at least had a couple things he figured he'd like to at least broach with her since she had decided to be a part of their lives that weekend – in a more visible and accessible way than usual anymore.
"Good job," Erin muttered at E as he finished scraping the crumble on top of the pie tins and worked at patting it down with the back of the wooden spoon.
Wasn't exactly the Dutch-style apple pie that he thought they should eat on behalf of his brother, but seemed like it was a whole lot easier process to get it prepped anyway. Looked like it was far likelier to be something his boy could eat too. And E hadn't seemed to mind too much since the mix was still ending up in pie tins – and since it'd been promoted as his mom's recipe. His mom's recipe that his sister was passing along to him – apparently from memory.
"There," Erin said, righting the bowl in his trembling hand and pressing some of the crumble farther down into the apples with her fingertips. "I think that's good enough."
E glanced at her, tapping his spoon against the dessert a few more times for good measure. "You think it's going to be good?"
His girl cocked her eyebrow at him. "It's your mom's recipe. How can it not be good?" she put to him.
Ethan shrugged and gazed at the two trays they'd filled. "When it will be ready?"
"Mmm …," Erin allowed, glancing at the oven that had long beeped it's notice that it'd pre-heated to whatever temperature she'd set it at. "We'll check it in a half-hour. But doesn't need to be ready until dinner, right?" she nudged at him.
E drummed at the countertop, staring at their creation. "We got ice cream too," he said. "Real for you guys and coconut for me. It will melt better if it's warm."
But Erin shook her head and took the spoon from him, starting to move the mess of measuring cups and measuring spoons they'd created over to the sink. "It's for dessert. We'll warm it up again closer to dinner."
Her focus turned to the start of her clean-up and E just stood there staring at her. Hank measured a bit if his boy was about to have a melt down of his own about not getting his way. Kid was pretty much running on empty after being up a lot of the night with his hacking. Wasn't feeling too well that morning either but at least it seemed like the antibiotics were starting to take hold and do their jobs. He was looking slightly more bright-eyed and bushy tailed than he had the past few days. But still didn't exactly look well. Took a healthy person a good two to three weeks to kick pneumonia, though. Knew from experience that with Magoo they were looking at more like a month – and that was assuming the bacteria didn't cause enough inflammation that left his M.S. flaring in other way that sent them down a whole other medical treatment route in the aftermath of it all.
Had still given them a bit of a scare that morning. Had thought his son was doing OK – had finally seemed to pass out and had hoped it was going to sleep a few hours. So he'd taken the mutt out for a walk. Poor dog hadn't gotten one the day before. Puppy needed it or he was a bit of a hellion in the house. Got restless. Wanted to play. Didn't get enough of a run out back.
Thought he might be able to kill two birds with one stone in the process. Do a route around the neighborhood and pick up a couple things. Get some groceries and E's requested wings. Do a bakery run and grab something to bring back for breakfast for the lot. Some of the good coffee. But hadn't been gone that long before he was getting a call from Erin wanting to know where he'd disappeared to and saying that they might be taking E over to the hospital.
Had come home to find E sitting on the edge of his girl's bed, hunched over while she rubbed at his back. Both her and Halstead were still in their skivvies. Doubted E had interrupted much but their sleep, though. Erin had rolled in close to two from shift and doubted the two of them had gotten anymore sleep than him and E with how the boy was hacking. Hadn't stopped E from later noting to him, though, that Erin and Jay were in their underwear. He'd just brushed it off for the boy. He slept in his briefs too. E likely would too if he didn't get so cold all the time. Wasn't like Erin had really come over with much of an overnight bag. Though, she still did have clothes in that room from before – when his girl was sleeping there at least a couple nights a week. But that was before. Didn't know why she hadn't bothered with pulling on some sleep clothes, beyond she'd looked like she was ready to fall into bed by the time she got in the door.
If E had interrupted anything, her and Halstead hadn't given any hint of it and E hadn't seen anything beyond their attire. Wasn't likely paying much attention when he barged in at the sounds of it anyways. Sounded like the main issue in that moment was that he was struggling against shortness of breath and a tight chest and had got himself into a bit of a panic in trying to come out of his labored breathing.
Halstead was pacing the room on the phone with his brother, when Hank had gotten back. Still in his own briefs. Was getting some sort of advice on if they should be dragging Magoo in to get some oxygen. But at that point E's breathing seemed to be calming. Was taking air into his lungs. Erin had gotten his puffer into him. Got another shot of the expectorant down the hatch and his next set of antibiotics.
Knew Erin understood that E didn't much want to end up back in the hospital. Knew that if they took him over to get out – even if it was just to get him hooked up to oxygen for a while – by the time the docs had done their due diligence, they'd have lost the day. And they likely would've just agitated Ethan a whole lot more. Didn't need another day at the hospital. Especially that weekend.
E was so bipolar anymore even on the best of days. Emotions so all over the place. It was like walking through a minefield with him. And wasn't just him who was dealing with the explosions and the fallout. Erin was taking a good brunt of it too. They were both still learning how to navigate it with him. How to give some sort of reassurances. How to still be stern with him while making sure he got the soft touch and support he needed during all this.
He'd been doing pretty good that weekend emotionally. A little teary but hadn't had any of his angry outbursts. Knew some of that was likely because he was feeling so under the weather and was in a bit of little boy mode. But Hank thought he'd take that. He'd rather deal with his little boy that weekend than having his teenager lashing out at him for just looking at him the wrong way.
Had really been expecting some of that anger and confusion to come flooding out that weekend. Had braced himself for it. Prepared himself mentally and emotionally. Worked at putting aside the things he was feeling – and thinking about and remembering – to make sure he was just focused on his living son rather than his dead one. As much as he could. At least so he wasn't having an adverse reaction to any of E's reactions. To keep being patient. To not say anything too stupid that would just escalate the situation and the emotions.
Supposed Erin knew all that too. Supposed that's why she was there. And as much as it felt a bit like her and Halstead had taken up some sort of occupation at the house – Hank was glad she was there. That they both were. The more the weekend went on, the happier he was about it.
Because she was a help. Because she helped keep his boy stable and steady. Because she – and Halstead – were additional supports for his son. Because he liked to see his kids together. Because he liked feeling like there was still a family in there somewhere with what they had left.
"Erin," Ethan finally said a little meekly. Kid had been pretty meek all weekend when you got down to it. But, Hank was somewhat relieved that E wasn't about to have a yo-yo with not getting his way in the immediacy.
Erin turned toward him from what she was doing. Look on her face said she was about expecting to have to deal with one of his episodic temper tantrums anymore. But as she saw his face, her eyes softened again.
"I'm glad you came home for the weekend," E told her with a touch of embarrassment.
But his girl just gave him a gentle smile and wiped the back of her damp hands from the sink she was filling on her jeans, before reaching out and pulling her baby brother to her. E didn't hesitate to cuddle right in – unlike with Voight, where he tried to be the tough guy a lot anymore. Only wanted hugs on his terms and even when he came looking for some affection, he wasn't likely to return the hug. Instead Hank got to hold him like his boy's arms were in some kind of straightjacket.
But not Erin. Rested his head right against her and wrapped his arms around her too, while she gave his back a good rub.
"I'm glad I'm here with you too," she told him quietly.
Probably didn't want him to be hearing it but knew he was. But it also wasn't lost on Voight that she'd picked her words carefully. Hadn't said she was happy to be home. Had been real sure to make sure the statement – the affirmation – was directly about Ethan.
But that was just how things were right now. Was learning to accept it. To be as patient with it – with her – as he was with the rest of it. As he was with Magoo.
Needed to keep on trusting she'd come around too. She was coming around to the house. Eventually she'd come around to him too. Had to hope.
"This weekend sucks," E muttered against her, but it was still audible enough.
Erin rested her cheek on top of her brother's head, still holding him. "It does," she agreed. "But the first holidays always do."
"But now it's going to be Halloween and Thanksgiving and Christmas and everything. And he's not going to be here for any of them either," he said, turning his head against her so he wasn't looking in Voight's direction anymore. But he could still hear the catch in his voice. One that wasn't from the pneumonia.
"I know," Erin told him, visibly wrapping her arms around her brother a bit tighter. "But remember the past few years, Justin hadn't been able to be home for a lot of those things. And we got through, right?"
Eth gave a little shuttered sigh against her. "That was different. He could've come home. He just didn't. Now he never will. And now Olive and Henry won't either."
"We don't know what Olive and Henry are doing yet," she told him a bit more firmly but there was that gentleness in her tone. A tenor that Erin had mastered much better and far sooner than Hank ever had. Like another recipe she'd picked up from Camille, he liked to think. Or maybe it was something women – mothers – were just better at than men.
"Yes we do," E crackled. "You hardly want to come home. They aren't going to come all the way here. They left."
"Hey," Erin said and pulled her brother away from her a bit, gazing down at him and cupping his cheeks. "Don't get sucky on me. I'm here. We won't know what Olive and Henry are doing until Olive tells us what they're doing. Don't get all worked up about speculation – not fact."
He huffed at her, causing him to cough and jerk a way from her a bit in an attempt to cover his mouth and keep from streaming his germs all over her. Likely best. Erin seemed pretty good at picking up colds. Was a trooper about it. Didn't call in. But did come in and spread it around good. Watched the seasonal colds and flus sweep through his bullpen. Funny that his girl sucked it up but a lot of his young guys turned all little boy suck on him and called in all whiny to stay home on their couch for a day or two. Come back to District talking like their cough and sore throat had been the equivalent of them surviving the plague.
"You're doing really good this weekend, Ethan," she put to him as his coughing calmed. "Let's not go off the deep-end. OK?"
He gazed at her for a moment but then looked away, turning to grab at the pie tins. But Erin stilled his movements, taking them out of his tremoring hands.
"I'll get them in the oven," she said. "You go tell Jay you're ready to work on your math homework."
E huffed – and then hacked briefly –again. "I have tomorrow off," he put back to her with a flicker of defiance.
She cocked a warning eyebrow at him. "And Jay's working tomorrow. Do you like me or your dad helping you with math?"
"No," Magoo spat.
"So then let's avoid the three of us having another argument about math – and get it done today, since Jay's here and apparently is the only one who knows how to explain it in any way that makes any sense," she said with her own touch of tone.
But Hank knew where it was coming from. E had very clearly decided what each of the three of them had any brains in their heads about. So purely by all of them just wanting to avoid confrontations and frustrations, they'd fallen into a bit of a routine of each of them picking at various subject material with him. Didn't always work out, since the nominated tutor wasn't always available. But E sure did his best to display his displeasure when that was the case. Could be a real battle of the wills. Lots of dining room table arguments. Raised voices. His kid going glassy eyed – or working on filling up the consequences and donation jars with his week's allowance with the amount of F-bombs and other attitude-ripened profanity he started throwing at them. Pushing at their buttons. Trying to get them just as mad and frustrated as him. Trying to make sure they really knew how much he was hurting and struggling. But they knew. Didn't need him to go into teen-aged tantrum mode to understand it. To feel it. To fucking see it.
But Magoo had unequivocally decided that him and Erin were real idiots when it came to math. Hank wasn't sure he entirely agreed with that assessment. He wasn't a stats guy but was pretty sure most of the time he was grasping the fucking eighth grade math worksheets. Though, sometimes with the way that shit was worded he wasn't so sure either. Could see why E felt like pounding his head against the table with some of this problem solving crap. Wasn't exactly real life applications of any of the math these kids were actually going to use.
Halstead had seemed to have figured out a whole method of explaining the crap to the kid, though. Seemed like a lot of it involved Lego and E's dinosaur figures and baseball men and Hot Wheels all lined up in little piles to illustrate some fucking shit. And Halstead looking up a whole lot of crap on the iPad and watching YouTube videos. But whatever fucking worked. Supposed that's what trying to drag a brain damaged kid on an IEP through middle school was all about.
Didn't want to think about what it would look like when he actually got into high school and started bringing home more complicated assignments than integers and angles.
"He's watching stupid soccer," E put to her with such distaste.
Not that he blamed him. Didn't get the whole European football thing. Could stare at the screen for two damn hours and no one even scored a fucking goal. Just a bunch of fucking pretty boys running around in short shorts as far as he could tell. Think he would've learned to appreciate it more with all the fucking Italians and Poles he spent his life around. But enduring all the rah-rah-rah about the World Cup and the Euro Cup and the What-Fucking-Ever Cup was enough.
Reason to avoid the fucking drinking establishments as far as he was concerned. Didn't like Carmine's wine in a box that much. Didn't need to zone out with pinochle or clear out anyone's pockets with a couple poker hands. If anything the fucking European football provided good reason to get his ass home and be with his family instead.
Only now apparently he had his future extended family occupying his front room watching a damn game on just your fucking average Sunday. And from some passing comment Erin had made, he sure got the impression that Sunday football was Halstead's idea of a nice, quiet day. And they sure weren't talking American football. Though, at least he knew the guy watch that too. Or at least Super Bowl. Wasn't sure he'd seen him watch anything else. Or heard him talk about the Bears at the barn at all for that matter. And he fucking cheered for the Sox?
Might really be time to reassess this whole never-ending engagement thing. But at least he knew his hockey. And his math. Was good to his son. Good to his daughter. So soccer was likely a forgivable offense. As long as he didn't ever broach wanting to go see the Fire play.
Erin just shrugged at her brother, though. "And he will stop when you go tell him you're ready to do you're homework now."
Another huff and again with the hacking. Clearly E wasn't registering that his expelled displeasure wasn't doing anything for his lungs. Could really be a slow learner sometimes.
Erin just shook her head at him, watching him as he shuttered with his body's continued attempt to clear the mucus from his lungs.
"Eth, c'mon," she said a bit more gently when he finally stopped. "I want to have that Lost marathon with you this afternoon. We aren't going to be able do that if you don't get your homework out of the way."
He gazed at her again. Hank could tell his boy was really measuring if he should press it. Start an argument. Put up a fight, make a scene. But he also didn't think that E had much in the tank that day to be doing that and apparently the kid managed to come to the same conclusion. He flared his nostrils a bit but let out a, "Fine."
Erin gave him a thin smile and nudged him in the direction of the exit, casting Hank another small look as her brother did leave. But her eyes moved back to their crumble and she pulled open the oven door and popped them in.
"You're good with him," Hank told her, as she straightened, closing the door. "Always have been."
She cast him a glance and gave a little shrug, before turning her back, going over to the spot on the counter her and E had been working and continuing with her clean-up efforts. She likely should've made Magoo help with that since he was the one who wanted to make the dessert. But thought that Erin had more than registered that E was only going to be able to manage so much that day. That a Lost marathon likely wasn't going to happen that afternoon. That by the time he got done with homework with Halstead that her baby brother was going to be ready to – or at least need to – lie down for a while again. Though, supposed he could do that on the couch. Let him sleep through his TV show. But then they'd likely end up having to rewatch episodes with him later. Better to pick a flick to let him sleep through.
"Glad you're here too," Hank tried.
She glanced over her shoulder again. That time she included a, "Don't get used to it."
His face must've flickered with the pain of that statement, though. And even though he knew his daughter had been trying to rub some salt in the wounds in all of this – teach him a bit of a lesson – she also wasn't very good at it. Because she was a good person and she didn't much like hurting people.
"He'll be able to walk over whenever he wants after we're in the townhouse," she added, like it was supposed to soften the blow.
Hank wasn't sure it really did. Still wanted his girl coming over even if she was just a few blocks over. Wanted her to come home – to want to come home. Wanted to get his own invites over to her place on occasion. For it not to just be his boy who had the open door invitation there.
"Yea, he's real excited about that," he said instead, though. "Seems to think he's got a whole floor designated just for him."
Erin gave him another look but then shook her head and went back to wiping up. "The two spare bedrooms are on one floor," she said. "We're going to set up one as a room he can use when he wants to sleep over."
He gave a little nod. Sensed that that might be a lot and he hadn't really figured out how to deal with that yet. Didn't really like that idea. Maybe a couple times a month but he didn't want it to become a weekly habit. Didn't want his son running over there every time they had an argument and just not coming back. Thinking he wasn't ever going to come home either.
And he wasn't sure what E was thinking. Did know that E had said more than once now that he didn't much like his bedroom anymore. Had said that Justin had told him more than once that he didn't much like having to share his bedroom with his brother. Which Hank knew was true. The boys being in the same room had always been a bit of a battle. Wasn't exactly ideal but it was what it was. There'd been talk about moving J into Erin's room after she did get into the Academy and settled into her own place. But at that point, J was making a mess of a whole lot of other things. Getting his own room was supposed to be a bit of a reward he was going to have to earn and he never really had.
Some of it was likely that him and Cami also had wanted to make sure that Erin always felt like she had a place to come home too. So had been a little reluctant about handing off her room to her brother – even though it likely made some good sense. But they'd likely put up some extra roadblocks to J ever earning it. Not that he'd tried real hard. He'd done his best to become a real shit-disturber by the time he was in high school. Everything was a fucking battle.
Didn't like hearing E's perspective now, though, about just how unwelcome he was in that room. Voight thought some of that was a bit of a reinterpretation of history. Didn't doubt that J had said some things over the years. Hell, he'd witnessed, broken up and referred his share of fights between the two boys about space sharing in that room. Happens when you've got a grade schooler and a teenager sharing space. But he thought some of the comments Eth was making now had more to do with him coping with – sorting out – his end game with his brother. All the tension and negative feelings there. This concept he'd established for himself that his brother didn't like him much – and never had. Which, Hank wanted to believe was another half-truth. It was just that relationships between siblings – brothers – were just as complicated as those between fathers and sons.
J had loved his baby brother. E had loved his big brother. But wrapping your head around all the shapes and forms and phases and kinds of love is a fucking hard concept to explain to a little kid. Fuck, it was a hard concept to completely understand even as an adult. Or maybe as a man.
But Hank did know he didn't like his youngest feeling unwelcome in his room. Didn't like him feeling like he'd never been welcome there. Didn't like him feeling like it was riddled with history that he didn't want to relieve. Didn't want him having to baste in memories that he wasn't ready to deal with. And didn't want him rewriting history while he tried to come to terms with everything their family had gone through either.
So he'd offered up Erin's room to Magoo. Offered to get him moved in there and all set up. Been a little hard – because it still was his girl's room in so many ways. Because he was still hoping that they'd reach the point that she was coming over again more. And maybe because part of him was still waiting for Olive to come back with his grandson. He was still waiting for more grandbabies – and he wanted that space for them. For Popa's house to be the family home. For all of them to have space there. A place there.
But he'd prefer to keep his youngest stable over and above any of that. Because in the immediacy, E was all he had left. The only one still there. So passing on the room – redecorating it – was a small sacrifice to make.
Magoo, though, had turned down the room. Because it was Erin's, he said. But he'd later added he'd have a new room at Erin and Jay's place. And the way he said it had this omnipresent tone to it. This underlying reality that his son thought he'd be a lot more comfortable and a lot happier over there. That getting the fuck out of their haunted house was what he wanted. Getting away from Dad. And his mom and Justin and all the fucking memories that crept through that house. That fucking echoed off the walls. That hung off them too – in every room. Didn't matter which photos he took down and put away, he could still remember where everyone had been. What each frame held. And when he looked in that exact spot, he could still see his wife, his son, his baby, his daughter staring back at him. Himself. This happy, stable, normal family that hadn't existed for six years. And what was left of it just kept sinking into a deeper, darker hole no matter how hard he worked to get them all tossed back up into the dirt at the ledge.
Knew, though, that Erin's townhouse wasn't that stable land for Magoo. It might be a good safety net. A fence to keep him from falling in. But it wasn't that end point. Hank wasn't going to let E maneuver some sort of emancipation to move in with his sister and her fiancée. Didn't much care they had the space. Didn't much care it was only a few blocks over. E was his son. All he had now. He was going to grow up in his home. Only home he'd known. He was going to be his father – no matter how much E hated that prospect anymore.
He really hoped Erin was on the same page as him with all that. That she wouldn't condone E trying to integrate himself over there. In essence, him running away from home. Even if it was into the waiting arms of his sister.
Erin might've felt differently about that in the days after they'd lost Justin. Had made pretty damn clear that she didn't trust him with his boy. That she didn't think he was a good influence on him. That he shouldn't be the one caring for him. But Hank had fought for him. Hard. Still was now. Pulling out all the stops. And, he thought, his girl understood that. That they were working through that. That she knew he was still his boy's father. That he could still be a father – even if she didn't want him as her father much anymore.
But he liked to think this move was about helping. About being closer to family. About giving E the supports he needed. That his sister was being that good big sister. How she'd always been. How she'd always been there for Magoo. That this move wasn't about pulling the family further apart. Wasn't about creating more drama and tension. It was just about putting some extra stability in place for Magoo. It was about Erin getting on with her life in some ways. And maybe that'd be the example that E needed to about still living in all of this. Working through it.
"Jay mentioned the townhouse is a four-storey?" Hank tried.
She gave him another look. This one warning. "Aren't most?"
He shrugged. "Don't know," he said.
Big half-truth there. Knew that a lot of these narrow townhouses in these newer developments were multi-levels. Four levels as actually kind of short. Wasn't uncommon to hit on ones that were five or six. No more than a couple rooms per floor. Kind of a strange set up but it was building up rather than spreading out. Trying to utilize space. Selling each and every little plot at a premium. Wasn't sure how well E would do in a house with a whole lot of steps, though. Hoped that it had more than one bathroom. Likely did, though. Wasn't often that you got a house built in the last twenty years that didn't at least have a bath and a half.
And truth there too was that he knew exactly how many baths the place had with his detective work that he would've preferred not to do. Would've preferred to have gotten to go over to the place and see it along with Magoo on the night they were doing some measurements apparently. Four levels. Figured they were going to have a lot of empty space even between the two of their junk. Would be curious to know what they were planning to do with all the extra space. For now. Had to hope that the reason they got a three bedroom – in a townhouse just off a park with a two car garage and a big rooftop patio – was because they were hoping to add some kids to the mix. But figured in the interim they might want some furniture and not just empty rooms.
Halstead should grab the reins of that real quick. Start giving some input and direction or else his girl would be dragging him to every flea market, garage sale, antique shop, estate auction and police impound facility in Chicagoland and beyond for the foreseeable future. Would be collecting a whole lot of eclectic crap. The girl had fucking strange decorating taste and liked her clutter. Too much.
Had only seen Halstead's apartment once when he was picking up Magoo. But that guy was definitely more of the Spartan type. All the years in the Army cutting down on all the material garbage you liked to carry around with you. But Hank could appreciate that.
Maybe the two of them could find some sort of happy medium between hoarder and Sparta, though. Without draining the bank accounts and running up the credit cards more than this move likely was. Not that they'd let him in on it either way. Likely wouldn't even let him see the final interior design they settled on. When if they did just let him in the damn house, he'd likely offer to buy them a damn sofa. Not that they'd accept that either. Apparently anything he offered up anymore was just dirty. Couldn't be near it. Couldn't accept it.
"Know better if I could see the place," Hank added, giving her a smack.
"Don't," she put even more warningly. Glaring at him real good before she turned back to the sink.
Hank patted his hand against the tabletop, staring at her back as she did her utmost to ignore him. "Just want to make sure you know I can help out," he told her. Again. "With whatever. Anything. Know that, right?"
She gave a little nod. "Yea, I do," she provided. Still not looking at him. "We're fine," she said, that time giving him the smallest glance.
He allowed his own slow nod. Let it sink in. Again. Let the rejection wash over him again. Let him measure how much progress they'd made and hadn't made. Try to decide if they were ever going to get back to the point that they could act like a family. Where she wasn't just barely making nice to him for her brother's sake.
He gave a little sigh and gestured over at the stove. "Crumble looks real good," he offered.
She gave a snort at that and shot him a look. "Don't sound so surprised."
He poked his tongue into his cheek at that comment. "Meant it as a compliment, not a commentary, Erin," he put flatly.
He saw her eyes roll a little, as she grabbed at the coconut oil and maple syrup her and Eth had out, taking it back to the fridge. She paused, though, as she slammed the door shut far harder than she needed too. Hard enough that if she'd done it as a teen, he would've chastised her.
But Hank saw what her eyes had landed on. Watched her skimming over the flyer. Saw her hand reaching to lift at it a bit.
"E saw that when he was waiting for me to pick him up at the museum club thing the other night," Hank provided. "Wanted me to pass it along to Olive."
He saw a small, sad smile tug at Erin's lips a bit at that. But she nodded. Still kept on staring at the poster, though.
The silhouette of a fucking tyrannosaurus rex charging right at a red-clad Santa holding up a candy cane like that was going to appease the damn thing. Christmas breakfast and photo-op at Field. Buffet it and then go and get your kids' photos taken with Santa and Sue.
"Because a photo-op with the Jolly Elf won't scare H enough, Magoo thinks that bag of bones will really make the picture," Hank said, trying to soften the blow. Distract her.
Because he'd seen the look pass over her face when her eyes had set on it. Was a look he know. Look he'd seen on Camille's face too many times over the years. In those years after they'd lost the little girl who should've been their oldest daughter but instead they went through years of just watching those around them have kids. Watching them start to do the little things that you had gotten so close to. Getting invited to those first birthdays and baptisms. Knowing the date your baby should've been born but instead you were empty-handed, childless and just left to think about this imagined life with the child you'd never gotten a chance to know.
Erin might not have told him how many weeks along she was when she miscarried. Hadn't told him the due date. But he'd gone through that drill enough, just by the sheer fact they'd taken her in for a D&C and not just let it go its natural course, he'd been able to do his own math. Make his own assumptions about how far along she'd been.
And he knew that he likely had been going to have a second grandbaby by Christmas. With the way her face changed when they'd landed on the poster, he wouldn't be surprised if whatever date was on the damn thing was the due date she'd been given. That in some other parallel universe that maybe he'd be taking his two grandbabies and his youngest son to see Santa and get their picture with Sue. And that that would be one for the albums. Tacky as fuck but so fucking them. So fucking Magoo. Would have Cami laughing that's for damn sure. Their little guy with their two new little ones – still dinosaur nutty. Trying to pass it along to the next generation.
But that wasn't the way history had gone. Hadn't been the way life worked. Was all just a fucking fantasy of what-ifs and wouldn't-it-be-nices. Wasn't going to be how their lives or futures were going to look. Wouldn't be the family Christmas photo that year. Or any other.
Erin hadn't said much of anything about it to him in the weeks after her miscarriage. Could see she was struggling but she'd gotten real quiet. So had Halstead. And before either of them likely had a chance to cope as individuals – as parents-to-be that weren't. Or that they'd fully dealt with all the ramifications of that as a couple and the strain it put on your relationship. There'd been Justin. And they'd all tumbled right into that. Another fucking layer to the stress and the sadness and the mourning.
More than his daughter should have to handle. Ways to just make it harder for her to take care of herself. To look after herself. To grieve the way she needed to. To process any of it.
And before he might've been allowed to each out to her – as her friend, as her father. But now he wasn't. Now he just had to trust she was dealing with it. That Halstead was helping her. That they were figuring out how to cope together. Had to trust that them buying this townhouse showed they were doing that. That they were OK. But he sure wished he could have a real heart-to-heart with his daughter. To check in with her. That she'd let him hug her. Because she was carrying a whole lot too.
"Maybe Ethan really just wants to go and is using the Henry thing as an excuse," Erin muttered and let go of the sheet. Did her best to hide what had flashed across her face. To act all nonchalant about it.
Hank allowed a little shrug. "Maybe," he conceded.
Though, he thought they both knew that E had more than out-grown the whole Santa thing at that point. But there might be some truth the fact he'd play along again if Santa and a dinosaur were involved. Because his kid was weird like that. Likely be taking the whole visit with Santa thing to some sort of teen-aged irony level that he didn't understand but fucking Instagram would.
Reality was, though, that he knew what Magoo's motivation really was. That for weeks, he'd been accumulating all these things in a list that he wanted sent off to Olive. All these things he wanted to do with Henry. All these ways he was trying to tell the woman that as this thirteen-year-old kid, he'd try to be there for her. That he'd try his best to be a good uncle. That he wanted to be a part of his nephew's life.
It was this whole level of heart-wrenching that punched Hank in the gut every time E brought him a new item to pass along. Every time he fucking asked if he thought that that offer might convince her to come back to Chicago or to at least bring Henry for a visit. How he kept saying that he could be like a big brother to Henry too – not just an uncle. How him and Justin were nearly the same years apart as him and Henry so he knew how to be a big brother. Thing was with the effort Magoo was putting into this, Hank couldn't help but think that his little boy might make a better big brother than his oldest boy ever had. And knowing that hurt on too many levels. Made him hurt for E and it made him hurt for Henry. Made him hurt for Justin and Camille too. For his whole fucking family.
E had wanted to be sending these lists off to Olive himself. Hank had managed to talk him out of that. Talked him into letting him manage passing all this ideas and promises and offers along. Because he didn't think Olive getting bombarded with texts from Magoo would help the situation too much. Though, part of him thought that maybe it'd wrench at her heart enough too that she'd at least come home for a visit. In the very least pick up the phone a bit more. But Hank also knew even his cautious attempts to express to her how much E was struggling with having his nephew disappear from his life along with his brother – how much he wanted to be a part of hi nephew's life, how much they all did – was just adding to Olive avoiding calling when E could get on the phone.
Because saying no to him or just not answering was one thing. But saying no to a thirteen-year-old kid it was another. And Hank knew that Olive knew she wouldn't be able to do that as easily even though it meant she'd be forced into doing something else she didn't want to do.
So they kept playing the little game of her avoiding his calls until a time when she could keep it under two minutes and didn't have to talk to Magoo. But that was only going to last so long. Because Hank could see Ethan's frustration and sadness and anger and anxiety about the whole situation mounting. He might be able to monitor Ethan's phone – make sure he wasn't bothering her, but after E decided he wasn't going to respect that anymore, it was going to have to be Olive who blocked him. In bigger and harsher ways than she already was.
"You told her about that yet?" Erin asked passively, getting back into acting like she wasn't bothered. Just going back to the sink like it was nothing. Like he wasn't the guy who raised her and could read her body language and her looks.
But he just shook his head. "Not yet," he allowed. "He just brought it home the other night."
She gave him a glance. "You going to call her today or tomorrow?"
Hank allowed a little shrug. "Yea," he acknowledged. "Don't mean I'll actually talk to her, though."
Erin made her own little frustrated sound – on that had its own edge of sadness to it and she leaned against the counter. She sudsy fingertips dripping back down into the sink.
She looked at him more firmly. Kept his eyes. "Has she told you what she wants to do for Thanksgiving yet?"
Hank just gave his head a little shake. And his girl made that sound again. Only this time it wasn't sadness. It was anger.
"It's almost the middle of October," she said harshly out the back window. "If she doesn't fucking say something soon, we're never going to be able to book flights – however the hell she wants to manage this."
Hank tapped his hand against the table. "Think that's likely the point," he said. "Wait long enough and this all become moot."
Erin batted at the facuet and really turned to glare at him now – like it was him who was staging this when all he wanted was a direct answer too. All he wanted even more was one of the answers he wanted to hear – that he was welcome to bring Magoo down for the weekend or that her and Henry would like some help booking tickets to come up. But at that point, he'd fucking take that Olive couldn't stand to look at him but would open the door up for Erin and E – and then he'd get the two of them on the fucking plane. He didn't care. He just needed her to fucking say it.
"Does she not realize what this is doing to Ethan?" Erin demanded. "Forget us," she drilled and pointed off into the front room, where Hank could just see that any set up for homework time had stalled out with Magoo taking up space on the couch with Halstead staring at the screen. Again looking a hell of a lot more like brothers who could get along and share some time together even in something that one member of the party didn't give two shits about than E and J ever had.
But his eyes shifted back to Erin and he made a small gesture to get her to calm down a bit, to lower her voice. Because Magoo didn't need to hear her upset. Not about this and not this weekend.
"His anxiety is already rising, Hank," she said more calmly but still real accusingly. "He's upset enough now and it's just October. Hallo-fucking-ween. He's already stressing about Thanksgiving and Christmas. He's going to be a fucking basket case by then if she won't … fucking tell us what she's doing."
"Erin," he said calmly, "he's going to be a basket case at holidays no matter what Olive decides. We all are. We've just got to let Olive—"
"We've let Olive have time to make her decisions," Erin spat at him. "She's being selfish."
Hank puckered at her at that. Getting sterner with her. "She's just trying to look out for the kid in the equation. Same as us," he put right back in her direction.
"Ethan is a child in this equation too," she argued back. "It's been two months. Fine. I get it. She's still grieving. But so is Ethan. We all are. We're all one fucked up dysfunctional family. She can still get over herself – this – enough to get on the fucking phone and say, 'Hank, Erin, I'm not going to be coming up.' So we can fucking start preparing him for that. Give him time to wrap his head around it."
He just smacked at her. "Think maybe you should be putting a few bills in Eth's consequence or charity jar," he said, giving a little point to the shelving unit above the coffeemaker.
Erin just huffed at him and shook her head as she gazed down into the sink. "Un-fucking-believable."
He gave her a sigh and reached to riffle some of the papers, magazines, bills and envelopes shoved in the little box tacked above the table. Found what he was looking for and got up.
"Erin, I'm prepping him with the assumption they won't be here with us and that we aren't going to be welcome down there either," he said and shrugged as he got next to her. "If we get to see them 'round the holidays, we'll just treat it as a bit of a Christmas miracle."
She gave him sigh and shook her head. But he put the sheet he was carrying on the counter next to her and stepped around her to grab a towel while she stared at it.
"What's this?" she grumbled. She was in pissy mode now. But couldn't much blame her. He was reaching his own level of hurt and frustration with it all too. Knew it was going to twist a bit tighter in him if he didn't get a chance to see his grandson up on the Skype on his son's birthday too.
He handed her the tea towel to dry off her hands. "Ethan's progress report," he provided flatly.
She took the towel from him, mutely staring at the comments and grades in front of her, as she wiped off her hands and then reached to pick it up and take a better look at it. Didn't need to really look at it that carefully, though, to see it was full of bad news.
"These are just …," she muttered and then sighed heavily, finding his eyes. "They aren't his term grades."
Hank shook his head and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. "Just giving us a snapshot of how the first six weeks have gone."
She ran her hand through her hair and stared at it some more. Frustration and anger creasing her face again. "I just …," she muttered and then sighed heavily, gazing at him with bewilderment. "We do the homework with him. He goes to tutoring. He's on the IEP. He goes to the educational resource room every day. Has the EA assigned to him. How's this even possible?"
Hank grunted. He had about the same thoughts looking at it. It wasn't like E was failing but the piece of paper sure seemed to be suggesting that he was functioning well below grade-level. That his academic performance was far from satisfactory. That he seemed to be struggling in just about every subject there was. And the written comments just drove home that in the classroom, Magoo was doing his best to either check out or to put up the fronts and the attitudes with all the people around him. So not only wasn't he a prized student, he was also one that none of the staff who had to work with him seemed to like very much when you read between the lines.
"I mean …," Erin shook her head again and stared at the page, jabbing her finger at it. "Science, tech, social studies. His marks shouldn't be this bad there. I know he struggles with the language arts and the math but these?" She looked at him almost pleadingly, like he might somehow have the answer key to what was showing on the page. "He's smart."
"I know," Hank acknowledged. "But he's also as smart as he wants to be about what he wants to be smart about."
Erin sighed hard at that, again shaking her head at the paper. Could see some of her frustration and anger shifting there. Hopefully it didn't bounce right off the page and deflect into the front room and at his brother. Hank had to sure steady himself to keep from interrogating the kid about the marks and teachers comments on the page when he'd brought it home Friday night. Had to steady himself even more from handing some sort of grounding that wasn't likely to improve the situation at all. First he needed to get a grip on what the fuck was going on. How much of this was the lazy ass EA. How much of it was his teachers not working within his IEP properly. How much of it was Ignatius' fault versus Ethan's fault. And then for the fault that lay with Ethan. How much of it was brain damage and his learning disability and delays. How much of it was part of his son's grieving process. And how much of it was E just being a little fucking teen-aged asshole sitting with his thumb up his ass during classtime.
"Meet the Creature is Thursday," Hank put to her flatly. "Going to put in for some meeting time with some of his teachers. See how that goes and might book a sit down with the admin too."
Erin gave a listening nod but she was still staring at that page, likely reading through it for the second or third time like looking at it again might make some of the words change and make it make some more fucking sense. But Voight already knew it didn't matter how many times you fucking read it, it still didn't make a whole lot of sense. He'd read it enough trying to wrap his head around this epic failure that he could likely recite some of the comments by heart. Still didn't make it any clearer.
Why should it, though? Seemed like nothing much was clear anymore.
"Jay mentioned you two are picking up the keys to your new place on Thursday," Hank stated. She made a listening sound – an acknowledgement – but her eyes stayed set on the page. "You planning on heading there that night?"
She glanced up at him at that, as the gears clicked into place. "Ah …," she rubbed at her eyebrow and looked back at the progress report. "We thought we'd go make sure it was cleaned the way we want it before moving in. Maybe give it a once over ourselves."
Hank gave his own grunt of acknowledgement. Made sense. Very grown-up. But could be pretty amazing how homeownership did that to you. Took a lot better care of your things when they were yours and you were the one paying for it. When it was your home. Your spouse's home. Your family's home. Enough to turn his messy girl into Susie Homemaker maybe. Or at least enough to get her into the whole Royal We mode. Bossy pants. Delegating all this shit to her husband. Not that Halstead looked like he minded half the time. Less than fucking half the time.
Guy was just as smitten as his girl was. Could see it. Could see the way the two of them were leaning on each other too anymore. Relationship was more visible at work now than it'd been in the past. Couldn't really fault them that. But also wondered how long it could go on before Crowley would notice too and Voight wouldn't be able to keep turning a blind eye. But he also got the sense that neither Jay or Erin would be too heartbroken anymore if he had to send either of them packing from Intelligence.
Almost surprised that Erin hadn't upped and volunteered herself yet with how they were going at each other in the early days. Thought that likely had more to do with her watching her own back than her trying to watch his, though. And thought too that when the transfer papers did come in, she'd be going over his head and they'd be trickling down to him. Wouldn't be her who'd be giving him the heads up and his desk that the request would be landing on first. It'd be trickling down from somewhere.
Though, he could hope that maybe they'd repair their relationship enough – professionally and personally – in the interim that that wouldn't be the way it came down. When it came down. Only a matter of time. Supposed, though, no matter what it was always only going to be a matter of time. Could only hold his girl close for so long. Love someone, let them go.
"Well, wanted ya to see the report," he told her. "And for you to know you're welcome to come out to Iggy's Thursday night, if you want."
She nodded, still looking at that damn sheet. Likely still hoping she was going to find something positive in it. "Yea," she acknowledged. "I think I'll …" she sighed and looked up at him. "I'll be there," she affirmed firmly. "I want to know what's going on here too."
"OK …," he allowed.
Though, it felt like a bit more than OK. Felt like some progress. His girl was there this weekend. She'd be there on Thursday. Not for perfect reasons or in perfect situations. But at least they were going to face some things together as a family. Again. Work through them.
Anymore - that's all he could ask.
AUTHOR NOTE: Readership on Chapter 21 (Things You Do) is recording as stupid low. So you might want to make sure you didn't miss it.
Thanks to those who take the time to review. Your comments, reviews and feedback are much appreciated.