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.
***********PLEASE NOTE: A chapter was posted earlier today (Chapter 24 — Memories Past). Also — three chapters were posted within 24 hours of each other before that (Chapter 21-23 — The Thing About Elephants, The Deal, and Mean Girl). So please check to make sure you didn't miss them. *************
Erin came down the steps, looking into the front room to spot that Jay was there alone. But she had figured as much. She could smell what Hank was up to. She knew he'd be in the kitchen.
Jay glanced her way. He was pulling a bit as his bottom lip – or he had been as he stared at the TV screen watching game highlights. His tie was pulled loose and he looked nearly as tired as Ethan. Maybe nearly as tired as her. But she didn't think Jay had laid down that day while she was at the hospital. And, though, she had when she'd gotten back to Hank's with the two of them, she hadn't slept. So she knew at least her and Jay were getting close to forty-eight hours without having actually slept in a bed. Though, at least both of them had drowsed a bit in the car.
He watched her come down the stairs, but she shifted her eyes to the television too, watching the highlights. Giving herself a few stray moments to come down – from everything. The day – or days. The week. The talk with Ethan. That night. The hospital. The concert. St. Ignatius. The future looming in front of them – of the in a few days and in a week and in a handful of months variety.
"Who won?" she asked Jay.
His eyes had set back on the screen too. "Dallas," he allowed.
"Not Chicago's season," she said.
"Nope," he conceded. "Won't be a Cup run this year."
"Mmm …," she acknowledged.
"He sleeping?" he asked.
She nodded and held her arms around her, still measuring, still thinking.
"So not doing A Christmas Story tonight?"
She allowed a small laugh. Another tradition. A new one. Or a developing one. One that Ethan was trying to establish for two years back-to-back. Jay's favorite Christmas movie. Likely one of her least favorites. And Hank could hardly tolerate it – so much so that he'd pretty much banned it while the boys were growing up. She wasn't entirely sure what met his disapproval. Or maybe it was that it met Camille's disapproval.
But it'd been shelved for other more wholesome Christmas classics. Until last year when Ethan decided he needed to watch Jay's favorite. And now this year, with Hank allowing his son a bit more of a leash and not being quite as strict about his media consumption and TV time and seemingly a whole lot of things.
So Ethan had somehow managed to talk his dad into getting to watch A Christmas Story when they got home. Though, she suspected that might've been part of the reason Hank gave Ethan the CBD oil. It'd pretty much stopped that plan in it its tracks. It'd knocked her little brother out before she even managed to get him changed or moved to his own bed. Now it'd be up to Hank to decide to do with that as he may when he headed up for the night.
"You thinking you're about ready to head out?" Jay asked.
She rotated her eyes to him and gave him a thin smile. "In a bit," she said. "I'm going to check on him …," she nodded in that direction. "I think maybe …"
And she left it there. She watched Jay's reaction and his slight movement. The underlying apprehension and discomfort. And she felt it too. She was second guessing if and when she should tell him and bring the family into this. If she should do it before Christmas or wait until after Christmas or wait until into the new year or just before the next time she saw Hank – when she suspected, if what the doctor told them was true, that she likely wouldn't be able to hide it much anymore. But she was unsure how he'd react – to the news and to the timing. And it scared her. What Hank might say and what he wouldn't say – but his face would say all the same. What he might think or feel – or want to say – about her and Jay's relationship, or their abilities as parents or where she was living and where he was living and career and playing house. She was scared to take this 'secret' outside of her and Jay's world. About what that would mean – who all she'd have to tell then as news spread – if something went wrong. And then that was the news they were sharing and the updates they were giving. And the impact that would have on her life and Jay's life and their relationship and her relationship with her family as a whole. How it'd impact all of them – with a good or bad outcome.
But she wanted to start dealing with it. To not keep secrets. Or to keep living like everything was eventually going to turn into a bad news story. She wanted to start spreading that safety net more and getting more people on her side – their side. To get ready for this life change and new future. For the new look of their family.
And she thought Jay did too – even though he had his reservations about all of it. Even though he was scared and hesitant and unsure too – and he hated sharing that type of vulnerability with anyone, even her. But he nodded too. Eventually.
So she nodded again. She gathered herself and walked passed him. She let her hand graze over his knees and grab his hand. She kept a hold of it to full length until they dropped each other's grip and she went into the kitchen, leaning in the entrance for a moment to watch Hank at the stove. And waited for him to give her a glance too – to see that his face was relaxed and so was his tie.
"It smells like your mom's place at Christmas in here," she told him, and it earned a faint smile on his face. Though, he smacked at her and turned back to stirring his simmering pot. Mulled spices. She could tell, though, he hadn't put in wine – his mother would've. And maybe that showed he'd already noticed her abstinence on alcohol. Or he was just keeping Jay away from any extra alcohol after their little … thing last week. The forced furlough that Erin was reaping the benefits from – that she hoped Jay was too. That he felt he was – despite the reasoning behind it.
Hank gestured over at the table. He had pastries on a plate. She could tell they were German too. Close enough to some of the Austrian treats his mom would have out at the holidays for her to know what some of them were. To know that she wouldn't mind sampling one or two … or more.
"Had E over at Christkindlmarket the other night," he said. Like that was explanation enough. And maybe it was. Another tradition. One that Erin wasn't entirely sure Hank did for Ethan or for himself. Or maybe for memories of his parents and growing-up. Smells and tastes from his own childhood. Bits and pieces of himself he wanted to share with his family in the way he could or knew how.
Erin stood at the table and looked at the pastries. She took a stray piece of the cut flakey pastries and put it in her mouth to let it melt – buttery, nutty and sweet.
"Ethan's asleep," she said. "In his clothes and in your bed."
"Mmm …," Hank grunted. She knew he knew that.
"So no Christmas Story tonight. I'll come over and sit with him tomorrow, though, if you aren't planning on sending him to school. He says he wants to watch both Home Alones. Because one is a 'good Chicago' movie and the other one's appropriate since I'm 'lost in New York.'"
He grunted again but stayed fixed on his pot. Still even in the sound, she could feel his amusement at Ethan's quip. She could feel the small smile. "See how he's doing in the morning. Not like they do much on the last day."
Erin nodded and picked at another little piece. Hank spotted it and cast her a look and a smack. It was a clear message that they were supposed to be for everyone – and just that he didn't like people hovering over the table stuffing their faces. You sat down as a family to eat. If you were in the house together, you were eating together. Or at least sitting either each other.
Erin stopped picking at the treats. She could wait until they were all sitting together. She could use them as a distraction to try to … avoid looking at him if his face was saying something she didn't want to hear. But his face right then wasn't.
"You look like you're in a good mood," she said.
He just grunted. "Give it to the Catholics, one thing they do get right is Christmas," he rasped.
She allowed a small smile. Proud Dad. Hank got like that. With all of them. He might not ever right-out congratulate them but there'd been times she could pinpoint in his body language and his demeanor and the tone of the words he used – that he was proud of them. And their achievements.
"He did good tonight," she allowed.
It was just another grunt. His acknowledgement that was so dismissive. And wasn't all at the same time.
Erin stared at his back for a long moment. She kept working at gathering herself. At giving herself some sort of internal pep talk. Of trying to find the words she wanted. When she sort of wished she had the sounds to say it without saying it too.
So she went over and stood next to him at the stove top. He barely slowed his stirring but he gave her a glance and she leaned and placed at firm kiss against the side of his head – above his ear, in his hair. In the place that he so occasionally pressed his lips when he felt like she needed it. When they had quiet moments where she was just his daughter and he was just her dad – and she didn't need to overthink it or try to define it for herself or him or anyone else. It just was what it was. Another Hank line.
His stirring slowed, though, and he looked at her. Really looked at her. She could feel concern that radiated off him – it hitting her like a wave.
"Everything alright?" he asked.
She allowed a slight nod. "Yea," she allowed. "I'm just … really happy to be home, Hank. With you guys."
A faint smile spread on his thin lips again and he stopped his whisking. He turned to her and embraced her. "We're happy to have you."
His arms were up and around her back and gripping at her shoulder. A tight hold but giving her space – privacy and to pull away when she wanted to, to adjust the hug to be what she wanted or was comfortable with in that moment. But she was comfortable. It felt nice to feel his warms around her and his shoulders against hers. It felt warm and strong. And she didn't worry about if she let him hold her too tight he might notice or suspect that she was carrying additional roundness at her belly. Instead, she let her chin rest over his shoulder for it and scrapping against his cheek. And she smiled as he released her and looked at her.
She shook her head at it a bit and patted at his cheek, as he did the same, gazing at her. There was pride in that look too that ached. That she needed. And it was a way – that she had only ever really had Hank look at her in quite that way. A way that she was just starting to understand was the way a father looked at his child. At his daughter.
A way she'd seen in Jay's transfixed eyes on the ultrasound screen. And in him laying against her as he stared at the bump they'd made together – while he touched it and felt it and looked at it – with those eyes and with this quiet pride. Pride not in themselves but in the life they'd created – life that he was already feeling for, feeling pride and awe and amazement for, when they weren't even there yet. When all they'd seen them do so far was grow and kick and move and twitch on a medical monitor. Their hearts racing in time.
And that made her smile a bit more too. Though, she ran her thumb down his cheek and dropped her hand away. Though Hank's stayed up at her – around her ear and cupping the back of her head through her hair – for a moment longer.
"Ethan told me that your face doesn't feel right tonight," she said. "Since you shaved for the big night."
"Mmm …," Hank grunted and went back to his whisking.
"He's real tactile anymore," he allowed. "How he learns. Helps him see things and understand them better."
Erin nodded. "He asked if you ever had as much of a beard as Jay," she smiled.
"Mmm …," Hank grunted again and shook his head.
"You did," she said. "In Gangs. If you were out on surveillance for a few days."
That got another grunt and he looked at her. Wagged the whisk at her really. "You tell him as soon as I got in the door, I had standing orders from the wife about getting my ass upstairs and getting it off myself face."
Erin grinned a bit at that and crossed her arms to look down. "I told him you looked handsome in a grisly sort of way."
Hank grunted and shook his head. "Looked and smelled like I'd been sitting in a car staring at surveillance monitors drinking stale coffee and cold pizza for way too long."
Erin shrugged. "I've smelled worse."
He cast her a look. There was small amusement in it – the double entendre. That she'd smelled worse – and that she'd literally been what had smelled worse. But there was a small pain in the look too. The one that said he didn't like he spending too much time in that past either. That it might be who she was and where she came from – but it wasn't what her life was anymore.
"You look real good tonight," he nodded at her and gestured absently at the outfit she had on.
It was an awkward statement. Hank rarely commented on her clothes – unless he didn't like them. Then she got a commentary. As a teen and even as an adult. But she just allowed a smile at his effort.
"Ethan kept telling me I looked nice too," she said. "But he's pretty stoned."
"Mmm …," he grunted. "Not that stoned."
"He told me I reminded him of his mom," she said quietly and got another look from Hank. The puckered lips as he processed. "I don't know … he fumbled with his words. He's out of it. But that … I guess … I'm mom-like to him. Sometimes."
Hank looked at her. "You're more than his big sister, Erin," he allowed. "We all know that. You're the woman in his life. His example."
She allowed a shy smile and nodded but found herself gazing at the ground. Then she found his hand on her shoulder. And she looked at it.
"Go sit down," he rasped evenly. "Bring this out in a minute. Warm you up, help you sleep. Can crash here tonight if you don't feel like making the drive."
Olive and Henry had apparently opted to spend the days she was home back at the condo – on the assumption that Hank wouldn't need as much help and Ethan wouldn't need as much supervision with her home. Or maybe they just needed some space and time apart. And to live their own lives. Erin could understand. Space helped. But family was family. You only got so much time with them – no matter how you cut it.
"That whole mile?" she put back to him.
But he only grunted and turned back to twist off the burner. "You and Jay both look like you're about ready to nod off now."
She allowed a small smile at that and examined the ground for a moment more before moving out of the kitchen and back into the front room. Jay's eyes came up to find hers immediately. The question was there – and she nodded. She was going to do it. Even though Jay had speculated that maybe it'd be better if she told him alone. But then they'd both quickly concluded they were in this together and needed to show a united front from the get. That Hank needed to see that and believe it. That that was best for both of them and for the family they were making and for Hank's perspective of their relationship and Jay – both on the job and at home.
It was a good night to do it. It was time. Hank was in a good mood and a good headspace. Ethan was asleep. And it felt … it felt warm and comfortable and right. So maybe it would work out alright.
She went to the hallway and pulled an envelop from her coat pocket and came back into the front room just as Hank came in with the cups and the plate. She let him set it down and grunt and gesture as Jay – who looked a little shell shocked, and she was sure Hank picked up on that too. But he didn't say anything. He just set the mug next to her in the armchair and she held out the envelope at him.
He gave her a look but took it as he went to sit in his spot on the couch. "More paperwork from the lawyers?" he asked.
She shook her head. "Just … something I wanted to give to you now. While we have time."
And that was likely the most accurate. While they had time. Time that night. And time while her and Jay where there in front of him together. And time that trip. And time in their family. And time with Ethan. And time while Hank was still just middle-aged and vibrant and healthy.
Right now – they had the time. She wanted to take full advantage of that time. To enjoy it while it was still there.
So she watched Hank's face – she watched his eyes – as they fixed on her and then fixed on the flap of the envelope. And he opened it.
AUTHOR NOTE:
A chapter was posted earlier today (Chapter 24 — Memories Past). Also — three chapters were posted within 24 hours of each other before that (Chapter 21-23 — The Thing About Elephants, The Deal, and Mean Girl). So please check to make sure you didn't miss them.
Your readership, reviews, comments and feedback are appreciated.