Title: The Way From Here
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: Erin must deal with the consequences of her decision to take a position in FBI counter-intelligence at the expense of her relationship with Jay and her relationship with her family. But an emergency with her younger brother provides her with the opportunity to re-examine her choices and to try to rectify any damages to her relationships. This story takes place in the AU established in Interesting Dynamics.
SPOILER ALERT: There are MAJOR spoilers in this collection from Interesting Dynamics, So This is Christmas, Scenes, Aftermath and So It Goes (including chapters/scenes in So It Goes that have not yet been written or posted). This series also contains SPOILERS related to the finale of Season 4 of Chicago PD.
Hank gave the television a little glance as he walked into the front room and set himself on the middle cushion of the couch – right next to Magoo. Usually Magoo claimed his spot – opposite end – on the couch. But looked like he was doing his best to see the boob-tube and sitting as close to it as possible. Freed up his spot but decided he'd do better being near his boy.
Allowed a little grunt as his ass sunk into the cushion, though. Wasn't often anyone's ass actually occupied that cushion. And he'd managed to sit on something. His noise earned him a little glance from E. But he just reached under his ass and then dug into the back crease of the cushion and shook his head as he pulled out a diecast. He showed it to E's questioning face.
"Your nephew thinks the couch is a expressway," he told his son flatly. Reached again behind himself again and dug two more of the damn things out of there.
Knew it wasn't Magoo leaving that mess. E knew better than to leave out the fucking die casts to get stepped on or sat on. Knew that if he did, got thrown into the desk drawer and he'd be doing extra chores to get them back. E didn't like that too much. Having anything missing out of his little – extensive – collections of cars and dinosaurs and baseball cards just drove him batty. His OCD got showing. But also meant that his youngest had learned pretty damn quick to pick up after himself most days.
Beyond that E's growing car fetish didn't include these fucking zany Hot Rods and Monster Trucks that H's eyes lit up at. These were just toys. E was all about the collectibles. Sorting and organizing. Budget and planning and researching his next purchase. His collection didn't end up on his front room floor for Henry to drive around creation. E's cast-offs from when he was little and from what he'd inherited from J's stockpile, Popa and Mommy spoiling H rotten impulse purchases for the ankle-biter were what got hidden away for him to still fucking step and sit on in fucking round three of little boys in his front room. Twenty-five years of them. On and off. Nearly half his life. Hard to believe. Hoping that it was going to end up being more like two-thirds or three-quarters of his life. Dealing with the teen-aged boys too. Not just the little ones.
E took the one car out of his hand and gazed at it. Turning it over and over. Like he was really trying to see it and feel it. Make sense of it.
"The dragon one?" he asked.
"Mmm …," Hank grunted and took it back from him, setting it with the other two on the table and working on retrieving what he'd originally brought into the front room for his boy. Ice cream.
Still going to try to act like it was the fucking cure all – or at least a foundational layer – for trying to start off the big talks with the kids. The kids that got the girl who'd be your daughter into the car to come home. The ones that told your kids there'd be a new baby in the house. And ones like now. Where you had to try to build up your kid some before he got really broken down.
E watched him work at popping the lid, peeling back the covering. Wasn't too sure that E could see or tell what he was doing. Or maybe he was just as shocked as he was that Erin hadn't gotten into it.
Her and cherry or strawberry ice cream. Couldn't manage to keep those in the freezer for more than a day when she was around. Still attacked them like she was a little girl and it was the most special treat ever. Maybe it was. Wasn't like ice cream came by cheap. Not the good stuff. And this was the upper layer of good stuff. Likely why she'd restrained herself.
Was for Magoo. Keep working at getting food into him. Keeping him nourished and hydrated. Making sure him and his body didn't forget how to eat and process food. With way he was feeling still taking some prompting. Bribing. But Hank didn't much care. Right now if all his kid would eat was smoothies, blueberry pie, banana pancakes, watermelon, ice cream and almond butter by the spoonful – that's what he was going to feed him.
"He likes such weird ones," E muttered.
"Mmm," Hank grunted again and sat back in the couch, handing his boy a spoon and nudging the pint at him. "He's a little guy. Like what they like at that age."
E looked at the ice cream a little speculatively. Might be because he still wasn't seeing it well enough to be too sure what it was. But also knew it wasn't often that he let the kid eat in the front room. Probably about the first time he was letting him get away with eating anything right out of the container – bypassing the plates like civilized people.
So he set the example. Grabbed the other spoon and took his own scope out. Put it in his mouth and let it melt there while wagging it at Eth again. Kid smiled a bit at that and tremored a bit but managed to dig out a spoonful, putting it in his mouth too.
Hank took his own few more spoonfuls while he ensured E was actually going to eat the stuff. But then relinquished the pint over to the kid. Let him hold it and dig in. Let himself pull his boy a little bit tighter to him. Feel him there and relaxed and still breathing against his chest while they stared at the television. While E chowed down slow and steady.
"How the Cubbies doing tonight?" he asked, pressing a brief kiss into the top of E's head. Right at the crown. Swore that with the sparse hair – verging on balding – situation Magoo had right now could smell the baby in him again right at that spot. But not just that. Wifts of Cami were in there too. Just like everything else about his damn kids.
Question wasn't about how the Cubs were doing, though. Could see the score. Was looking at the game. Just was trying to get his own gauge on exactly what Magoo was seeing. And, if he wasn't seeing it, how much he was managing to hear and process and absorb. Knew learning to check in that way was something he was going to have to do to keep facilitating his son's learning process and education while they tried to recover from this. While they tried to carve out a future for him. Managed the life he'd been given.
"Bad," E grumbled around the spoon. But didn't rip into him about manners and talking with his mouthful. Also was having to work on learning that there were certain things that just weren't worth busting your kids' balls about. Not anymore. "They're losing and they're only playing the Marlins."
"Mmm …," Hank grunted again and rested his chin against his boy's head again. Still catching wafts of the past right there. "Still early in the season. Lots of time to bounce back from some shit series."
Magoo made a little sound. Slight amusement. And gazed up at him. Tossing Cami at his senses again. But looked by that to take a real good look at E's eyes instead. Do another assessment of how focused they looked. Hard to tell. But they weren't as dilated as they had been. And there was some life in them again. A bit of a spark somewhere at the back of them. That counted for something.
Counted too because Hank could read the look and knew that E was making his own assessment on whether to call him out on his language choice. Home again. Could implement the swear jar some. But for Hank, right now, it was on the list of things he just didn't give a fuck about. More small stuff in the grand scheme of things. Thought him and Magoo had a whole lot of right and leeway to be dropping some fucking f-bombs about the shit they'd been dealt. Life might not be fair. Maybe life only handed you as much as you could handle. Not sure he believed that – beyond that you were forced to figure out how to dig through crap pile you'd ended up with. But some days anymore, without sounding too much like a whiney ingrate pussy, Hank really wished life could work a bit on spreading some of its fucking bullshit around some. Rather than having that heaping pile that had ended up in his backyard. Just needed to focus on the decent things – good things, best things in his life – that had managed to grow out of that manure.
"Cubs play on the Fourth," was what E told him carefully, though. "Tampa. There's going to be fireworks and stuff."
Hank allowed a little grunt again but just tapped at E's spoon, urging him to get a few more calories and a little more fat into him. Kid's wide lost but hopeful eyes stayed on him a beat more. But then drifted back to the food. Giving up on the proposition.
Hank knew full well that the Cubs were home for Independence Day that year. Knew that in itself would make it a show. Add in all this Warrior Games pomp and ceremony, tourists and the start of summer with the boys of summer – it'd be a show. Knew it'd be enough of a show – the kind his own boy of summer lived for. Baseball and fireworks. Couldn't go wrong with that with Magoo. So much so that he'd long ago actually booked a fucking couple days of furlough for the long weekend. Made sure he wouldn't be doing any fill in as active supervisor or duty officer that year. And got the tickets.
Hadn't been able to afford or justify getting E a Cub Pack again. Not that year. Maybe another. But would still take him to a game or two over the season. Not that having an afternoon at the ballpark of the World Series Champs was going to be very affordable or accessible that season. But the past year had taught him a lot more about making the time and taking the time with your kids while it was there.
Fourth of July game was supposed to be his grad gift. Right now he wasn't too sure if he'd be handing them to Magoo on Tuesday or he'd be handing them off to someone else. Have to see how the kid was doing the next few days. Keep gauging what he'd be able to handle. And do some management of expectations for the kid about just what he could handle. Though, Hank thought E had gotten a bit of a taste of it that day. Was still getting treatment. Wasn't entirely out of the woods. And it was going to take a while for him to bounce back. Even when he did, wasn't going to ever be the same. Sitting on a bench had knocked him on his ass that day. Wasn't sure that in a week and a half, E'd be in a position he'd be ready to take him up to the North Side to deal with crowds and sun and heat and noise – at an event he'd likely only be able to see so much of. Or any of. Not that Hank cared so much about that. Take the kid a radio and let him listen in if they had to. Depending on how he was doing. Depending on if he thought even going out for a couple innings would manage to keep that little spark going – and growing – in Eth's eyes.
"Olive and H are going to come over in the morning," Hank told his son. "Just got off the horn with her."
"And Erin?" E asked. Could tell his he was struggling a bit with digging out a cherry. But let him work on that too. On his own. Strength and coordination. And showing his damn sister's habits too. More nature versus nurture there. More reason they couldn't have fucking ice cream in the house that had any fucking mix-ins in it. Kids just dug that shit out and left the vanilla ice cream to get freezer-burn.
"Think the pan is she's going to meet us over at Med in the afternoon," Hank said. "Sure, she'll let us know if there's a change."
"She's leaving on Wednesday," E muttered, shoving that cherry in his mouth now.
"Mmm," Hank acknowledged. "She's still on assignment, Magoo. Just got a pass to come home and help us out for a few days."
"She didn't tell us there was a change in plans when she left and stopped calling and stuff," he said.
Hank let out a breath. "Well, E … she got herself into a bit of a situation. So she's just been trying to do her job. Guess we're going to have to wait and see how she gets everything sorted out."
E twisted against him and looked up again. Looked like there was more focus that time. "So you think she'll come home for real soon?"
"I think your sister is an adult and has got to figure out what she wants and how to get it," Hank nodded at him.
E sighed and went back to looking at the ice cream. Didn't look so interested in it anymore.
"I miss her lots, Dad," he said quietly.
"I know," Hank acknowledged. "Me too."
"It's super weird her not being here. And it's going to be even weirder if she goes again."
Hank gripped at his boy's head a bit. A bit of a forehead hold. "E, got to trust that Erin knows that in this family we keep going even when the wheels are coming off. That she's going to figure out a way to right the bus."
E just flopped his head against Hank's shoulder. A little weakly. "But she's missing everything."
"I know, Ethan. But, you know what? She knows too. She's getting a real wake up call on that right now. On a whole lot of levels. So we've got to let her work on getting that sorted. Unfortunately, E, even though life can flip you upside down in an instant, lot of times flipping that switch back can be a real rewiring project. We need to give her some time. Trust her."
"When she just left?" E whispered.
Hank sighed and reached to slide the melting ice cream out of his hand and set it on the table. Shifted his boy a bit in his grip so they could actually look at each other right-way-up. For as much as E could see him. Maybe he couldn't see him. But knew E knew he was there. And with the way thing were right now – that's what his son really needed. To know people were there. That they had his back. When you got down to it – that's what he needed out of Erin right now too. And a few day visit wasn't going to accomplish that. Sure as fuck wasn't going to do much of anything if she didn't manage to get herself sorted – and get her head on straight – about a way to manage herself and her situation and give some honor and respect to the people who depended on her. Needed her.
"E, look, I know some of my biggest regrets as a father and a man – a husband – are the times I took my eyes off my family. Off you kids. Off your mom. That I wasn't around – or available enough – to see things the way I should've. Didn't nip some things in the bud. Erin's been a victim of my oversight too. I've done her some disservices too. Just like I've done to you. And your brother. And your mom. But right now Erin's getting some first-hand insight on being the one who took her eyes off her family. Getting some first-hand experience on just how quickly everything can change and how much that can hurt you and those around you. And I'm going to keep hoping that since she'd been on the receiving end before – since she's seen my mistakes – she's realizing real quick that she made a mistake. And she's going to get her ass back up that path she went on lickety-split and get back on the right track. With all of us. With herself too."
E's eyes glistened a bit at that. "But what's gonna happen if she doesn't come back? When you have to go back to work? And I don't get better than this?"
Hank shook his head at him. "One, Ethan, things are going to get better for you than they are right now. Know they aren't going to be the same as before and it's going to be hard and a learning curve for all of us – but you're going to see improvement. Okay?" His kid's lower lip just trembled at that and Hank pressed another kiss against his forehead and started rubbing his boy's earlobe between his thumb and forefinger. "And, two, E, I'm not going back to work just yet."
"But you will," E trembled. "Now that I'm outta the hospital."
Hank shook his head again. "No," he pressed more firmly. "I've got furlough, lots of banked time. I put in my paperwork to take some leave to see you through this. So all you've got to be worrying about is prioritizing all those plans you've got for summer. Pick out which ones we're going to get up to."
"Bridge …," E said weakly. "I missed the orientation days."
Hank nodded. "And I'm talking to Field. Talking to that guy, your Ma's friend – Kevin. And we're working on figuring out if there's some other way for you to get those training hours in. Or if maybe we can get a place held for you in next summer's Bridge group. Okay?"
E's lip trembled a bit more and Hank just worked at rubbing his earlobe even more. He weighed if he should get another one of E's anxiety pills – or a sleeping pill – into him. To keep him calm. There was a problem with E being out of the hospital. Definitely wasn't as sedated. Not nearly as much of the disoriented zombie he'd been sitting next to for the past ten days. And it meant his son was starting to process some of what was going on around him and what the coming weeks and months held in a whole different way. And it was a lot for a sick kid to wrap his head around. To keep calm about. To keep his head on straight. So his job as his father – who'd let him come home, who'd got them the hell out of that disinfected bubble they'd been living in – was to keep him sorted. Level. Stable. Would prefer to do it without drugs. But if he couldn't – he'd still push them at E rather than having to take him back to the fucking pediatric neurology ward.
"What about summer school?" E sputtered.
Hank shook his head. "Not doing summer school, Ethan," he provided.
"So I don't get to go to high school?" he asked and a tear trickled that time. Hank reached and wiped it for him.
"You're going to high school," he assured. "Don't need to worry about that either."
"At Iggy's?" E sputtered harder and another tear came down.
Hank held his son a bit tighter at that. Drew him to him. Could feel him trembling now.
"Still working on sorting that out, Ethan," he said. "Will need to see how you're doing and how your vision is doing. But all that. It's something we'll talk about some in a week or so when you're doing a bit better. You're going to have a whole lot of say in that, okay?" His kid nodded but barely. "And with us being home now, things maybe not feeling quite as fuzzy and coming back a bit – you got anything you want to talk to me about, we're going to talk. You're going to talk to me, okay?" That got another small nod and Hank again rested his head against his son's. "We're going to get into the therapist too. The both of us. About all this. Can make you an appointment with Pelican too, if you think maybe you want some privacy to dig into some of this stuff with someone that isn't me."
Held his boy for a while. It didn't feel like enough. But he was really coming to learn that with kids – didn't really matter what you did, was never going to feel like quite enough. No matter how much you tried or much more you gave. Or how much you forced yourself to accept there were certain things you just couldn't fix. None of that ever seemed to make things better or easier. Just seemed to highlight your failings more and more. Made you feel like if you couldn't help or protect your family – your kids – who were you really helping or protecting? And was doing that job adding to the fact you weren't helping and protecting the family the way you should be? Was it just adding to your fucking failure?
Wasn't too sure how much his career had helped or protected Chicago either. Especially these days. For all he'd given and all the sacrifices he'd made. All the ones his family – his wife and kids – had made. And now CPD and the fucking Ivory Tower were just throwing new hoops at him. Ordering him to jump through them. Just laying out a whole different obstacle course. Wasn't about to run away from it. Couldn't. For a whole lot of reasons. But right now – he'd stick to the sidelines. He'd wait. For his moment. For the right time. Only way he'd survive any of this. Only way he'd find the break in the onslaught to pull his family – what was left of it, his son – over to the other side.
"Thinking that if you're feeling up to it in the A.M., go for a bit of a walk with H. Check out the penny toy shop. Get a few more die casts for him to stuff between the cushions." He felt E smile a little against him at that. "Maybe could manage one or two for you too," he offered.
"Maybe," E allowed.
"May be time for the Hobby Shark in that walk too," Hank said and squeezed his shoulder.
He felt E smile a little again and he rubbed at his bicep a bit more. A bit more roughly too. Let him feel he was there too. Transfer some roughness – some strength – to his already strong kid. His personal little bulldog.
"I can't really see the baseball cards," E muttered, though.
"Mmm," Hank acknowledged but gazed down at him. "Been sort of thinking your eyes might be working a bit better the past day or two. Erin said something about it too."
E shrugged a little. "I can sorta see. Maybe sorta better. But it's all really blurry. And … it like … like feels like I'm in a tunnel. Or looking through a telescope or something. Like it's all dark and then there's this real blurry spot that's brighter?"
"Mmm …," Hank grunted and leaned forward a bit to bat at the snout of the damn mutt who'd either just realized the ice cream was working at melting on the table or had thought they were distracted enough he wasn't about to see that he'd sulked across the room to stick his face right up on the damn coffee table.
And maybe E's vision wasn't that great – at least at that point in the night – because normally he'd act like Bear was so hard-done-by when he so much as raised his voice at the dog, let alone gave him a good tap on the schnoz.
But he settled back as the dog gave him a real pathetic look – but laid himself out on the floor next to the table, like maybe Hank would give him a taste when he finally did get up to put the pint back in the freezer. Held the kid tight again. Let them both pretend to watch the Cubs for a few more minutes.
"Talked to the neuro-ophthalmologist a bit about your eyes while you were passed out at Med this afternoon," he offered up. E made a quiet sound of acknowledgement but kept his eyes still set on the TV.
Hank squeezed E's shoulder a bit more and the kid glanced at him. "Talked a bit about some options with the out-patient route given the progression."
E rolled his head against his shoulder. "Daddy, I don't want to talk 'bout any of that. I just want to be home. No more treatment stuff."
"Mmm …," Hank acknowledged. "Don't need to talk tonight. But want you to listen just a bit. And want you to work at thinking about it and processing it all the next few days. Then we can talk about it down the road."
E sighed heavily at him and pulled away. Sitting more upright and off in the corner of the couch again. Not moving himself but trying to be as far away form him as possible. Snapping his fingers until Bear got up and shoved his heavy head in the kid's lap.
"Doc told me in some of the blood work they ran on you while we were in Med it showed up that you've got this virus in your system," Hank smacked at him gently.
E moved his squinted eyes away from the dog to him. "Like I've got the flu too?"
"Not really," Hank said. "It's actually a virus they're still learning about."
E sighed and went back to his mutt. "Great. So now I've got two things they don't know anything about."
Hank grunted. "They're actually starting to thinking that this virus might be part of the how and why people end up with M.S."
E skewed up his face at that. "I thought they thought I've got M.S. because of how bad my head got hit."
Hank shrugged. "Maybe. Might be a big part of it," he said. "But the way the doc was explaining it to me, they're starting to think that this particular virus that's in you – it's something you might end up with years before. But then for people who get M.S., at some point something happens to them or their bodies … an infection, a trauma, a whole lot of inflammation … and that causes this virus to activate. So start attacking the neurological system in a way that all those white lesions we're seeing in your brain and your spine … they start to grow. The lucky ones, who've got the diagnosis of M.S. – they're able to get in front of docs to take meds and get treatment to sort of stop it. But when when something happens again – you get a cold or a flu or real rundown – it creates this inflammatory reaction in your body again. That this virus reactivates again. And that's why we see flares and exacerbations with the M.S.. And when it's a real bad one – if that virus isn't fought down and turned off a bit again – then that's when we start to see the disease progressing."
E lulled his head against the back of the couch. Could tell he was trying to process and consider that. But it was a lot to dump on anyone. Especially right now with the state E was in. But still – had to give the kid credit for at least taking some pause.
"But can't they like just kill viruses with antibiotics or whatever?" E asked.
Hank shook his head. "Not viruses," he said. "But there's these other meds called antivirals that sometimes can be really good a keeping the virus in check. Stop it from spawning more in our body."
E sighed. "Dad, it sounds like another trial. And they don't know what they're talking about."
Hank nudged a bit closer to him on the couch and rested his hand on his head, his thumb against his forehead.
"Not a trial, Magoo," he said. "Just be another medication that we'd add to what you're taking at home. Already agreed you're going to keep up with your M.S. meds and injections. This would just be one more. That's all. They'd just have to give it to us off-label."
"What's that mean?" E squinted at him.
Hank stroked his thumb down his forehead. "Means that usually they give this drug to people dealing with something else."
"What else?" E asked. Cami's eyes right there again. The demand. And the scientist – the biologist – behind it. The type of mind who'd understand all this better than he did. Who'd likely figure out the best route and best option faster than he could.
But Hank kept looking right in his eyes. "Usually give it to people who have AIDS."
E's face skewed up even more. "I don't have that. I haven't even had sex."
Hank gave him a weak smile and kept his thumb planted on his forehead. "Sometimes people with AIDS have this extra virus in their system too, though. Just like they're starting to see a whole lot of people with M.S. seem to have this virus in them."
E's scared eyes darted at that. They looked more dilated. And Hank again adjusted.
"So someone gave me the virus?" E sputtered. "Gave me M.S.? Was it Holly?"
Hank held him. "Why would you think Holly gave you a virus, Magoo?"
He looked at him more panicked. "I only kissed her. Barely. But now she's all gross with guys. And everyone."
Hank shook his head and brought E closer to him. "I don't think you got it from Holly." Truth was they didn't really know how it spread. Though some speculation seemed to be it was through salvia. But even then – E definitely had the thing long before he would've locked lips with the girl next door. If any of the medical community's research actually played out as true in the end.
"Can I give it to people?" E pressed out.
"Don't know for sure how people get it, E," Hank said. "But you've likely had it a long time. Maybe even since you were a baby. Maybe even picked it up when we had to have you in NICU right when you were born. They definitely aren't thinking it's a sexually transmitted disease. Wouldn't be, E. They're seeing it in kids with M.S., just like you."
E lay still against him again. A long time. And Hank let him. Hank held him. Tried to give them both some time and space to process and calm.
"If I do the medicine does it get rid of the M.S. too?" E finally asked.
"No," Hank shook his head and found his boy's eyes, as blurry as that line of sight might be. "But the people with AIDS you've got this virus, they have condition with their retinas that fucks up their vision just like the optic neuritis in people who've got M.S. Just like what we're trying to get you to bounce back from now. And they've found this antiviral, seems to really help. Stops what the virus is up to in its tracks a bit. Slows things down. Gives your body and eyes some chance to deal with the inflammation. Recover. And, E, with your progressive diagnosis, that's something we want and need. You want to have quality of life. This could help us make sure you've got that. As your father, I'm telling you that I really think this is something we should be looking at. Giving it some real consideration. And I'd really like for you to agree to give it a try."
E buried his forehead against his shoulder. "Would it mean I have to go back to the hospital?"
Hank rubbed his back. "No," he said. "Hopefully not. But would mean for the docs to agree to give it to us, you're going to have to agree to go ahead with the immunoglobulin therapy. Because that's going to help your immune system really get into its best place to fight down the inflammation when we've got this med in your system working at stopping the virus in its tracks."
"IGIV makes me sick," E whispered. "I've had to be in the hospital for it before."
Hank held him tight. "Know that," he said. "But would just be a couple days this time. And doc told me we could look at getting the first two IVs scheduled so we go in at night. Just there twenty-four hours. A bit of a sleepover, home in bed by dinner the next day."
E stayed against him. Didn't move. If Hank couldn't feel his breathing from where he had his hand on his back, might be more concerned. Though, these days he wasn't sure how much more concerned he could muster. His alert level was in a hypersensitive state at this point. A whole lot of juggling going on. Attention being pulled in multiple directions. Messes needing mopped up. And he could only do so much.
"How long would I have to take the AIDS medicine?" he whispered.
"Antiviral medicine," Hank pressed back gently. "Likely the rest of your life. We'd have to see how it goes. How your body does. What the doctors think."
The quiet and the stillness set in again. For another long time. Longer than Hank could handle. Because anymore that quiet seemed to just fill an eternity. Made him think about an eternity in his future that was going to be all too quiet. If his little boy was gone. With his older boy gone. With his wife gone.
"Will you think about it some?" Hank pressed against his boy's head. "For me?"
"I guess," E muttered.
He nodded. "Thank you."
Though, he knew – he had to know, he was the adult, the father – that he'd only give his son so much time to process and think about this. That there was really only so much of a variation on an agreement that his son would be allowed to have in this. Because you had to fight for your kids. You had to make some of the hard decisions for them. And maybe he had to make some concessions. Maybe he had to listen a bit better to Ethan's wants and needs. Maybe he had to accept that he didn't always know best. But he also had to … keep learning how to be a father in … a fucking impossible situation. And sometimes it was fucking hard to teach and old dog new tricks. Sometimes he didn't fucking know how to run away from a problem. He didn't. He just waited until he saw another way to fix it. And he fought for that solution. He'd do that now. He had to. It was about all he had left.
But then his little boy – his not so little boy – decided to throw him another loop. Side-swipe him again.
"I'm glad you let me come home, Dad," he whispered. "I like being home. I'm glad you made them let me."
"You needed to be home," Hank allowed. "You were right. It was time to get you home."
E nodded against him. This slow up and down movement against his chest. "So maybe I'd do it," he whispered at near silent levels. "Go back into the hospital and take the medicine, if Erin comes home. 'Cuz I don't want you to have to be all alone and sad while I'm sick, Dad. Or if there's an after."
And Hank just set his nose against that spot on his head again. Set it there. And tried to smell and feel and remember the so many parts of his life and himself and his family that had come together in his kid. This person that was what he had left. And this person that had become both this anchor and oar in keeping him on track – but not flying too far off the leash in the process. This fucking kid that kept having all these little moments that just brought his life – past and present … and a future that he both did and didn't want to think about – into focus. A kind of focus that maybe the kid might never truly get to know again – not in vision, but still seemed to in mind. No matter what those animals had done to his kid's brain. What stranger they'd handed him. The stranger he'd needed – when he hadn't fucking known it. Life kept doing that to him too. Cami. Erin. Ethan. Even Justin as that little squawking baby he'd brought home. Olive – working up the courage to tell him she was carrying his grandson.
"We'll talk to your sister," Hank said. Because that was something he could manage to. Though, he didn't know it was right. Or that it'd work the way E wanted. Because she had her own moving parts. She had her own situation to sort out. And her own future to look at. But he did know he wanted – he needed – her to make sure at least her baby brother was a part of it.
"And maybe if you take me to the Jurassic World Exhibit again," E said.
Hank let out a small guffaw at that. And shifted from his nose to his cheek resting on E's head. "Can handle that, Magoo," he said. "We'll put it in the calendar."
"And this time you don't have to act like you don't know anything about them and don't like them," E added.
Hank smiled weakly. "Okay," he allowed.
"And you can buy me a dinosaur there—"
"Getting a little demanding there, Magoo," he rasped.
But E ignored the interruption. "And not act like it was Mom who bought all my dinosaurs," he said and looked up at Hank.
Hank gave him a little nod. A weak smile. "I'll do one better," he said. "Head out to Evanston and show you were I tracked down the things. Before Amazon."
"You don't use Amazon," E muttered.
Hank brushed at the kid's forehead. "Don't," he agreed. "Support your community anyway you can, right?"
E nodded and settled back against him. "Family's community too, Dad. Tell Erin that."
And he frowned slightly but nodded. "Will."
Because that was about all he could do. Though, he thought she knew. He hoped she did. Hoped she got it. Hoped she could get sort it. Because there was a whole lot riding on it.
AUTHOR NOTE: Your feedback, reviews and comments are appreciated.
There was a chapter added yesterday as well.