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 and certain 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.
THIS CHAPTER GOES AFTER WHAT IS CURRENTLY CHAPTER 35 (MOONLIGHT). It will be reordered later.
"You going to let him in," Hank called at his kid as he came up the hall.
He'd heard the fist pounding on the front door and his boy move out of the front room to answer it. Had sort of thought it was Halstead arriving to pick up Magoo but the lack of movement in the front hall or any chatter out of his boy had confirmed it wasn't. Instead the voice behind the, "Hey, your dad home?" had told him enough.
E looked over his shoulder at him. "It's not Jay," he said flatly. Had that stunned look on his face. But had been looking that way that night. Not one of Magoo's better days. Just tired, it seemed. Shorter days – less sunlight - and all the fucking temperature fluctuations likely weren't helping any either.
Hank grunted. "Astute observation, Magoo," he put to the kid, who continued to stare at him like a deer in headlights as he got to the door and pulled it the rest of the way open, gesturing for the guy to come in.
Kenny Rixton. Had been mildly surprised to get his call. But also wasn't. Didn't need to hear the spiel that he knew was coming to know what was coming.
"You're early," Hank put to him as he stepped into his house.
Kid – though not so much of a kid anymore. Would have to take a quick look at his file if things went any farther than this chitchat, but figured he must be pushing forty now. Looked it too. The job had done its job. Not a greenie anymore. Kid had grit anyway even when he'd gotten pulled into Gangs, but you could see it coming off him now. It had permeated him over the years. Supposed life had too. Or so he'd heard. Wasn't exactly on the list of people he kept in touch with. But cutting his ties with anyone in Gangs had been part of his get out of jail free card. Seemed like the best option at the time. Could only keep in touch with guys who spent huge chunks of their careers undercover so much anyway. And never too smart to get too chummy with your underlyings. Teach them right and send them on their way. Shift through the good ones and the bad ones. Figure out who the real police were. Kenny had been real enough back then.
"Know with you, if you aren't a half-hour early, you're late," Rixton put back to him. Bit too smugly. Apparently the job hadn't beaten that out of him quite yet.
"Mmm…," he grunted and gestured at the guy's boots. Wasn't going to be letting him track shit across his house and wasn't about to do this chitchat standing in the doorway. With Magoo staring at them. Rixton bent to tug at the laces. "Bit different when it's my house and personal time you're stepping into."
Rixton glanced up at him and kept his eyes. "You want me to wait outside?"
Hank gave him another grunt but just reached to give Eth's shoulder a squeeze. "Go change out and grab your kit," he told his kid.
Seemed like it took a good few seconds for that to click in E. But after shifting his eyes to Rixton for another moment, he moved and started his clattering trek up the stairs. Always felt like he might as well be climbing up Everest with the amount of noise his equipment – the crutches – made in his sluggish process. Step by step.
Kid had barely started up the stairs when apparently their scaredy-cat of a guard dog decided it was safe to go blazing after him. Charged right into Rixton's legs, though, as Bear tried to squeeze between them both and make it to Magoo.
"Bear," Hank barked at him. "Sorry. Damn mutt's got no manners," he added, as he grabbed on the dog's collar, giving him a bit of redirect.
"That's OK," Rixton allowed, stopping his work on the laces for a second to reach out and give the mutt a good scruff between the ears. "Used to things barging into me at home too."
Hank allowed another grunt and let go of Bear, giving his rump a light tap to get him headed up the stairs rather than into people. Hopefully he'd dodge around Magoo a bit more gracefully. Though, the fucking dog seemed to understand that E was someone he needed to dodge around gently and not get too underfoot – especially when the crutches were out. It was just the rest of them that he charged right into.
"Pup don't realize it's got a dog's body now," Hank muttered, as he watched to make sure that still played true. Did. Bear swung right by Magoo, beating him to the top of the steps by a long shot. A standing up there panting at him happily waiting for his eventual arrival.
"How many months? Still got growing to do?" Rixton asked, as he pulled off his one boot.
"Had him about a year," Hank put flatly.
Rixton gave him another glance, as he pulled the laces looser on the opposite foot. "Last year's Christmas present?"
"Mmm …," he smacked. "Less of a present than a pain in the ass."
"Oh, yeah?" Rixton said, as he jerked the other boot off and rose. "Got that bred at home too."
"Your's got four legs or two?" Hank put to him.
Rixton made a quiet amused sound. "Got both sub-species, I guess," he conceded.
Hank allowed a small smile to pull at the corners of his mouth. "Two-legged pain in the ass brought the four-legged pain in the ass home. And it was the larger two-legged pain in the ass. Not the little one," he provided, spraining his neck between the banisters a bit to satisfy himself that E had made it to the top of the stair and into his room OK – without being tripped. Had. So he made a barely visible gesture for Rixton to follow through the front room.
"Beginning to look a lot like Christmas around here," the guy commented, as they passed the tree in the corner.
Hank gave it a small glance over his shoulder and a little grunt. Thing was all lit up. But wasn't much point having the damn thing up if they weren't going to flick on the lights in the evening. Kind of the point. E loved it. Few days they'd had it up had seen E sitting there and gazing at it rather than asking for screen-time. Had had some of his circuitry and programming shit out fucking with the lights too. All these little sequences he was trying to figure out. One looked like he was going for an LSD trip but for the moment it was just cycling through the various colors real slow. Seemed to think he could set it up to be synthesized with music. Was going to have to hope he didn't blow up the stereo system or set the tree or house on fire in the process. But was just letting him have at 'er. Sort of hoping fucking around with the stuff would get him primed up for wanting to go back out to the Robotics Team tryouts in January. Cut this shit talk about dropping the team from his extra-curriculars.
Just made a dismissive gesture at the tree, though. "Kid still at home," he allowed. "Know how it is. Like the decorations."
"Sure," Rixton allowed. "Like putting them up. Not much help with pulling any of it down."
Hank allowed a grunt at that. Wasn't sure he entirely agreed. In fact, he had a toddler over for a visit earlier that evening who'd pretty much been working at proving that pulling the ornaments off the tree was way more fun then putting them on. Barring the availability of a toddler to do the hard labor of Christmas clean-up for you, Hank always found making allowance on pull-down week contingent on the amount of aid provided, did wonders for getting a hand and getting it done and over with in short order.
Him and Camille used to always have the fucking tree up until Epiphany. Relic from her upbringing. Or maybe more of keeping the peace with her parents with them in and out for holiday visits. Leave it right up until Little Christmas and the giant meal at meal at Cami's folks' place and the just as giant of spoiling they did of the kids. Fucking La Befana visiting their grandparents'. Get home from all that, though, and near tore the thing down the next day. Ready to get back to their fucking routines.
Didn't leave it up that long anymore. Some years he sort of thought about it. Got nostalgic about it a bit. But with Camille and her folks gone now, it really didn't make much sense anymore. Wasn't one the list of traditions E remembered. Too little. And J and Erin must've long outgrown it, because they'd never made a comment about him pulling the tree down in the few days after Christmas. About as long as the thing ever lasted was until New Year's Day. Even that sometimes seemed like more than he wanted. Holidays never exactly got easier after you were missing someone in your family. Someone who was supposed to be around the tree with you on Christmas morning.
"That was Ethan?" Rixton put to him, as they walked. Hank just grunted an affirmative. "How old's he now?"
"Thirteen," he provided flatly.
Knew Rixton wouldn't have ever seen his kids before. Maybe Erin after she was in the blue. In passing. Not any visits she would've had over at Gangs. Didn't allow that. Didn't have any pictures of his family there either. Not his cubicle. And not on his desk after he'd moved to sitting behind one of them either. And not in his office now. Never would. Not when fucking psychopaths seemed to make a habit of going after his family. Had two little people he needed to get through to adulthood without them getting damaged any more than they already where. Had two grown woman who needed some protecting too. No one needed to know what his family looked like. Seemed to do fine enough job of finding them without them being on display.
But also knew that a lot of people when they did get to meet his youngest struggled with getting passed the sight of him. Saw the scars, saw the mangled ear, saw the crutches now and just stared at him like he was some creature out of the Black Lagoon.
In a way, Voight understood. Because for a long fucking time, he saw that too. Felt like his scar to bear too. His reminder and punishment for what had happened to his family. What had happened to his wife. What he'd brought upon them. But knew now he didn't need not physical reminder of any of it. Knew too that it hurt just as much when there wasn't a physical manifestation.
When he looked at his boy, he didn't see the scars – the disfiguration – so much anymore. Sometimes situations would draw his consciousness to it. He'd be aware of it for a whole variety of reasons that a father is aware of a whole lot of things about their child. But didn't get fixated on it. He saw his boy. His good boy. Saw Camille. Saw Justin too. And was learning more and more to see himself in there too – for better or worse. Just saw Ethan. For what he was. Who he was. Not what he looked like. Beautiful just the way he was. Still going to be a handsome devil as far as he was concerned. Somewhat biased.
Rixton hadn't been staring at Magoo, though. Supposed he knew enough about what had happened he had a vague idea what to expect. From stories that floated around out there likely braced himself for worse. Some sort of Quasimodo. And that Ethan was not. Couldn't ever be. Not with Camille's genes in there.
There was a quiet grunt and a muttered curse behind him. "Think I might've broken something," Rixton said.
Hank turned again to see the guy bending to pick up something off the floor.
He reached to flick on the light between the armchairs. Flicking it on only revealed that E hadn't gotten too far in tidying up the mess him and H had made of the front room before dinner. Hot Wheel advent calendars for the boys had been a great plan and a fucking pain in the ass at the same time. Seemed to be giving the two of them endless hours of entertainment. Between the new cars that were getting pulled out of the cardboard box each day and the ones that were getting ripped out of the fucking toilet paper roll crackers from J's old collection that Magoo had done up for H. Bring back a whole lot of memories going through his older boy's collection – which Hank would admit even contained a few diecasts that had survived his childhood and gotten passed on to his boys too. Memories of the boys playing in years gone by. Memories of playing with his boys with the damn things too. Memories of the fucking cars in their stockings growing up. And their Easter baskets. And them wanting to spend their allowance on the damn things – so taking them on a trip to the toy store to pour over picking out a new one for the fucking collection that took up quite the good sized Tupperware container in the house. Creating new memories now too. Getting to do it all over again with H. Getting to watch E play with him the same way his brother had him long ago.
Kid was a decent babysitter. Great entertainer for Henry. But the two of them sounded like a fucking herd of elephants in the house – especially when Bear got in on the action. And they left a tornado in their wake that Hank might be able to forgive the one-year-old for not entirely grasping clean-up time yet. But his thirteen-year-old not tidying up after ripping apart their living space pissed him off slightly. Joy of kids. Wasn't even finished up with getting his own out of the house and already had a grandkid working on tearing it down.
Rixton twisted the one of many Hot Wheels that littered the floor in his fingers. Giving it a bit of an examination.
"Think it's OK," he said, handing it to Hank.
He grunted and made an annoyed swipe of his hand at the obstacle course still on the floor in that half of the front room. "Was supposed to be working on cleaning this shit up," he graveled and pocketed the car.
You leave it, you lose it. '68 Shelby GT500. One of Magoo's newer editions to his growing collection. Would be upset when he realized where it'd end up. Wondered what else the kid had left on the floor for him to scoop up. Looked like he could start lining up some extra chores for the kid that week to get these things back. Fine with him. Take a load off his plate. Had a whole other shit he needed to do besides keeping house. Especially at this time of year.
"That the new dinosaurs?" Rixton put to him.
Hank cast him another glance as he skirted through the dining room and into the kitchen. Only took a split second to click but it did.
But he just pulled the car out of his pocket and wagged it at the guy. "What that is, is a clean sink of dishes," he said and put the dinky car on the counter next to the pile of dirty dishes from dinner. Was still working on getting the leftovers packaged up, so E would have a bit more added to the pile for him to work on when he got home form his rock climbing. Lucky kid. Jutted his chin back out to the front room. "Looks like I got some loads of laundry and a scrubbed down toilet in there too."
Rixton made an amused sound and moved to lean against the counter, scrubbing at the borderline ridiculous goatee he had on his chin. That'd be something they'd have to work on too. "Just remember you always finding dinosaurs in your pocket," he said with just a touch of self-consciousness apparent in it. Tried to cover it up, jutting his thumb over to the front stairs and the sound of E moving around in his bedroom. "That was him, right?"
Hank just made an affirmative sound. Didn't need to say much more. Funny that Rixton remembered that. But supposed he'd pulled them out enough on the job – discovered yet a fucking new one in his jacket pocket like his kid was trying to blow his cover. How the fuck do you explain why plastic dinosaurs are falling out of your pocket all the time?
Funny how kids did that. J had done it too. Army Men. Hot Wheels. But E had always been with the dinosaurs. Sending whatever treasured item with Daddy. Likely supposed to protect him or bring him good luck. Or whatever it was that kids were fucking thinking when they did that for you. Left you a little surprise. What it really did, though, was give you a reminder of the real reasons you did the job. Real reasons you needed the city safe. Helped you keep your head on straight.
So didn't go publicizing it, but still had one of E's little dinosaurs in his pocket. The last one he'd put there before they'd lost Camille. Had stopped doing it after he'd hit his head. Likely didn't remember it was something he'd done. Or maybe it was just that he'd become a little more OCD about his collections. Wasn't likely to give up one to Daddy's pocket anymore. Different little boy he'd brought home. But little boy's grow up anyway. Change.
Still, kept that Brontosaurus in his pocket. Or whatever they were fucking called now. Apatosaurus? Didn't know. Did know, though, that the little shaped piece of plastic had become a bit of a worry stone for him all those years it'd been collecting lint in his pocket. Bit of a touchstone too. A reminder. As much as you needed to have your head at the job while you were at the job, sometimes you needed that something to get your head back on straight in the midst of it. Piece of home. Your family. While you were masking the fact your hands were shaking by stuffing them in your pocket. A little something extra to clutch onto and get that shake to stop a bit faster.
"Not on the dinosaurs then anymore?" Rixton asked, trying to sound casual. "Thirteen. Moved onto Hot Wheels?"
Hank grunted and went back to working on the clean-up in the kitchen. Only interested in so much chitchat. Needed to speed things up and get to the meat of whatever – what he expected – Kenny wanted to talk about. But these days only got about 150 minutes of anything that resembled time to himself when Halstead had his son out at rock climbing. That time went by way too quick.
And it rarely counted as time he took for himself. Never was so good at that anyway. Didn't think time to yourself existed in quite the same way after you had kids anyway. But add in the job? And it pretty much ceased to exist. Lived for two things then – had two jobs – be a father and be a cop. That was the order of priority and importance too.
Those 150 minutes he was getting once a week for those ten weeks was pretty much just disappearing into getting shit done without E underfoot. Whether it was putting some laundry through or doing up his lunch for the next day. Or running around to get as many of the week's errands done in that timeframe as he could without having to drag his boy along with him. If it wasn't home-front chores and errands, then he used the time on the job. Paperwork, following up with CIs, maintaining his presence and connections in the city as much as he could. Or past few weeks, he'd forfeit all that "me time" and head over to Erin's condo … Olive's place now and let her take that little bit of "me time". Take her over a casserole. Keep Henry out from under her feet for a bit – or even watch over him as she was the one who got to go on their two-hour whirlwind effort of errands as she tried to settle in and raise a baby boy. Give him his bath. Get him into his pajamas and into his crib for her. Pretty fucking decent way to be using that 150 minutes as far as he was concerned. Go "me time". Share it with others. Supposed to be what family was for anyway.
"Still on dinosaurs," Hank acknowledged, though. "Not so much with the mini figures anymore. Hot Wheels more of a collection thing for him. Make and model. Getting into cars more. Mechanics. My grandson was over before dinner. That's why they're all over the floor. Working at working turning him into a Gear Head."
Rixton allowed a thin smile at that, tucking his hands up into his armpits. "Yea, I'd heard you had a grandkid now," he said and cast him a look. "How old?"
"About a year and a half," he said. "Busy. Real busy."
"Yea … boys …," Kenny acknowledged almost wistfully with a little nod, as he stared at the floor.
"Anything like my boys and my daughter-in-law's going to be in trouble," Hank said.
Kenny allowed another thin smile at that. A sad one. But turned to look him in the eyes again. That was important.
"I was really sorry to hear about your other boy, Sarge," he said. Hank allowed a grunt at that and pressed his tongue into his cheek. Didn't really feel like they needed to get into that. Didn't really like getting into it with much of anyone. Having to get into it every day with his kids – with himself - was more than enough.
"Mmm …," he acknowledged. Didn't need to come up with anything else, though. Not that he would've bothered. But was a fist pounding on the back porch. Shifted his eyes to see that the floor light had come up. Halstead seemed to favor the back entrance over the front. Couldn't say he blamed him. Erin spent most of her life sneaking in that door too. "It's open," he graveled.
Kenny got quiet, his eyes shifting to the breezeway where Jay was clearly stomping the dusting of snow off his boots and shucking them off too. Did it faster than Rixton had managed. He appeared in the kitchen and immediately spotted Kenny. A 'who the fuck is this' look clearly painting across his face. Knew the encounter would be reported back to Erin by nine o'clock that night, if not sent in the fucking messenger the moment he stepped out of sight.
"Kenny Rixton," Voight provided, jutting his chin at the guy and going back to his clean-up. No point in hiding it now. Nothing worth hiding anyway. Though, if the guy had showed up when he was supposed to could've gotten through all this without anyone being none-the-wiser. "Worked with him over in Gangs." Halstead's scrutiny shifted to him. Whole lot of questions and accusations painted on that face of his. Likely be another one of their sit-downs in the future. Some reminders about morals and convictions and grey areas. "Jay Halstead," he provided, though, jutting his chin in that direction while giving Jay a look of warning right back. "Future son-in-law."
Kenny nodded. Though, could tell from the look on his face too that Rixton likely knew exactly who Jay was. Would make sense. Kenny was smart enough that he wouldn't have walked into this conversation, that he was taking his sweet fucking time opening, without having done his research on Intelligence and who was who and what was what. Hadn't done that, didn't deserve to even be asking the question that was likely pending.
Still, the kid stuck out his hand to Jay without comment. "Hey, man," he said. Jay looked at his hand. Took a real long beat before the hands came out of the pocket and he gripped it tight. Silent shake. No comment. No greeting.
"Jay's Ethan's …," Hank shook his head and shrugged, giving him a glance. "What the fuck are you? His rope holder?"
"Belayer," Jay put flatly, still giving Kenny a once-over. Pretty clear that Kenny was returning the favor. Might as well get the two of them a room.
Hank just grunted and gestured at the smothered chops he was getting packaged up. "You get a bite before you came over?"
Jay just gave his head a little shake. "I'm OK," he said.
"Hmm," he acknowledged. "Erin have something for ya when you get home?"
Made a mildly amused sound. Wasn't an expert at Halstead sounds. Likely less amused than disgusted or annoyed, though. "She was meeting Bunny for dinner …," he provided. There was some real tone there. Also wasn't sure if that was meant for him or meant for Erin.
Just smacked, though, and nodded. What more could he do? Fucking less than thrilled that Erin had decided to once again let that cancer into her life. That Bunny was once again fucking preying on her daughter when she was vulnerable. When they were all fucking vulnerable. She was like a fucking shark. She could small the blood. And she was moving in. Knew this was ultimately just going to led to more fucking drama. Drama that none of them fucking needed right now.
But no point in saying anything to Erin about it. She wouldn't fucking listen to him. Not right now. If anything, halfway thought this whole friendliness with Bunny again was just another way of her trying to send a fucking message to him. Didn't need to. He'd heard her loud and clear. Might not have liked most of what he heard. But he had heard. And was doing his best to listen real good now and make changes.
One change – accepting that she was an adult woman. Fully capable of making her own decisions. And if associating with Bunny is was what she thought was a good one right now? Then let her do it. And let her deal with the fallout when it inevitably turned out. Even, though, he knew it wouldn't just be her dealing with the fallout. Because no matter what she thought about it – he was still her father. And he'd still be there for her. It would just be up to her, again, as a grown woman, to decide if she'd take his hand. Take the help when she fucking needed it.
"Send you home with a couple plates," he muttered. Had made enough for everyone anyway. Chop for Jay and Erin. Had quickly packaged two chops up for Olive when she'd come to retrieve Henry. Hadn't wanted to stay for dinner. Still didn't want to stay in the house too long yet. But it hadn't been long yet. Needed to give it time. They had it now. Could still eat dinner if she wasn't staying. Sent her home with enough to have a real meal when Henry gave her a minute. Enough to share with him and still have leftovers for the next day. More than enough for him and Magoo left too.
Jay made a small sound. No thanks. But knew that was part of the show. Tough guy act he was putting on for Kenny and that Kenny was giving right back. What-fucking-ever. Both were tough enough. Save it for the cage. Didn't need to beat each other down in his kitchen.
"E's upstairs getting his shit together," Hank put to Jay. Got another sound of acknowledgement but no movement. So stared at him until Jay caught his eyes and gave him a get moving nod. Got a more annoyed sound at that but shifted in his spot.
Started for the entranceway but Hank called after him in a moment of realization, giving his hands a quick wipe and trailing after him. Pushed by him a little into the dining room and retrieved Eth's math textbook.
"Do me a favor," Hank put to him. It was a rhetorical question.
He flipped it open to all these fucking triangles. Supplementary angles or some shit. Pythagorean Theorem. Could program the fucking lights on a Christmas tree and make alarm system that went off every time someone opened the door to his room uninvited and tell him about pulleys and levers and gears but couldn't seem to wrap his head around this. Or at least not the way the fucking textbook was presenting it. Likely because it was written down. Magoo didn't do well with direction instructions at all. Kid was an experiential learner. A tinkerer. A doer.
"Doesn't matter how many times I read this over with him, how many ways I explain it to him – just giving me that deer-in-headlights look tonight. Can you see if you can get it to click with him? He's got a fucking test on this shit next week."
Halstead nodded. Softening now that he wasn't in the same room as Kenny. Now that it was about Magoo. Gave the guy a lot of credit for that. Was real patient with his son. A lot of people weren't. Even some of his fucking teachers weren't.
"Yea, I'll see what I can do," he said as he gazed at the page, giving it a quick read and then snapping it shut. Continuing on his way upstairs.
Hank went back to the kitchen. Back to slapping the chops into some containers. Erin would likely fucking appreciate it too. Couldn't see Bunny taking her anywhere that didn't just offer up a liquid dinner. Needed more in her belly than that. To be taking care of herself. Finally starting to look like his girl again.
Been pretty fucking worried about her for a while there. Had lost weight and then put on weight and then lost it again. Just fucking yo-yoing. And just looking for tired. So gaunt. Just exhausted.
The move, though. Getting officially settled in with Halstead. It seemed to be treating her well. She seemed to be doing better. Stabilizing. They all fucking seemed to be stabilizing. Or at least slowly leveling out. He'd take it.
"Erin's fiancée?" Rixton put to him.
Hank just gave him a look and a smack. Stupid question didn't deserve an answer. Didn't need to state the obvious.
Kenny caught on. Gave a little nod and gazed down at his feet again some quiet reflection. Collecting his thoughts.
"Hank, I just …," Kenny sighed and looked up, finding his eyes again. "Need you to know that I wanted to reach out."
He shrugged. "It's fine. Don't need to be washing ladies down at the river about it."
Rixton made a small sound. A little stung but nodded, adjusting himself against the counter's edge. "Yea, exactly. Know how you feel about all that. And figured anything I said would just get mixed up in the rest of the noise."
Hank stopped what he was doing and looked more at the man. Pretty clear this wasn't the kid he'd had under his wing those years ago. Not anymore.
"Look, Kenny," he said, leaning himself against the counter next to the guy, crossing his own arms. "Know you had your own shit you were dealing with. Don't need to be giving me any apologies to have this conversation."
The guy gave a little nod but looked at the floor some more. So Hank joined him. Actually looked like one of those cars he picked up off the floor after E was gone would be getting assigned to mopping the floor if the kid wanted it back. Whole lot of muddy paw prints all over the place. Too fucking lazy to wipe off the dog's feet when he came barging inside after lifting his leg.
"Was sorry to hear about Lauren," he finally offered. Pretty abundantly clear that whatever little spiel Kenny had prepared to pitch to him when he'd come in that door had gone off the rails. So maybe he needed something else. Just someone to talk to. Ended up lacking in that sometimes with the kind of work you ended up doing in Gangs. The kind of relationships you needed to form and the distances you needed to create.
"Yea …," Kenny said. "Thanks."
"How you doing?" he asked.
Kenny gave a little shrug. "You know …," he allowed.
Hank grunted and gave a little nod. Examining the floor again as the did and just kept nodding. But he did know. Didn't much know what to say.
Was lucky. Hadn't lost Camille to cancer. Not that there was ever a good way to lose your spouse. But at least Camille hadn't suffered. Hadn't seen it coming even – not until those last few seconds. Or at least that's what the coroner's office had tried to convince him. Didn't really want to imagine having to watch cancer slowly take your wife. Having to see them go through that and not be able to help them. To spend all that time knowing it was coming and being so fucking helpless in that. Having your kids have to go through that too.
So as much as he knew, he didn't know. Didn't know what Kenny had gone through. What his boy had gone through. What the two of them were going through knew. But had some idea of at least the level of loss and the level of pain. And what it meant to you as a father. What it meant to you as a cop. What it meant for your two jobs. What it just fucking meant for the readjustment of priorities in your life. And he wasn't going to string him some bullshit about it getting better or easier. It didn't. You just got farther away from it. And being farther away from it all created it's own pains and sorrows too.
He shifted his eyes as there was a clatter at the top of the stairs. Click of dog toenails and crutches as Bear, E and Jay came down.
E looked slightly cheerier and slightly more awake as he came through the kitchen. In his workout gear, gym bag with all the fucking equipment that had been lent out to them for this activity slung over his shoulder.
Jay held up the textbook and taped at it. "Going to take this," he said. "Running a little late."
Hank grunted, giving a glance at his watch. Weren't exactly late but always needed to give yourself plenty of time when you had Magoo in tow.
"Bye, Dad," E said and moved to breeze by him to the breezeway to retrieve his boots and jacket.
But Hank held out his arm at him. "Hey," he called. "What's the rule?"
E sighed at him but came over. "That I have to hug you when I'm headed out the door 'til I'm at least eighteen and really out the door," he muttered but came to him and wrapped his arms around him.
Hank did too. Maybe holding him a little tighter that evening than they did some days when they a little mechanically moved through their routines – even now.
"Good man," he told him, giving him a hearty pat on the back as he squeezed his shoulder and then released him, giving his bicep a little tap. "Have fun. Behave."
"Yea, yea," E muttered and moved into the breezeway with Jay.
Hank gave Kenny a look. But the guy just gave him that thin, broken attempt at a smile that Hank knew all too well. So as E and Halstead got their outerwear on, he pushed himself away from the counter and went into the dining room, retrieving a bottle of whiskey and two tumblers.
He went back into the kitchen and held the bottle briefly at Kenny, setting it down on the little table there. Could move it to the living room. Knew how to command his living room. But knew with his own kids – his own wife, his family – one of the best places, most fucking productive places, to have a real conversation was the kitchen. Had had a lot talks about the good, bad and ugly with Camille, Erin, Justin, Magoo, even Olive and Al, right there at that table. Could add another to a list.
"Neat?" he asked the guy. But also rhetorical. Was already pouring it. Whiskey was meant to be drank neat. Distilleries – the good ones – knew what they were doing. And this was the good stuff. So drink it the way it was meant to.
"Yea …," Kenny said and came over to the table. Hank put a glass on the one side and poured himself a couple fingers. Might be the kind of chat that needed more than two fingers, though.
"How's Colin doing with it all?" he asked as he sat himself down, making a small salute with his glass, which Rixton returned, and they both took a slow sip.
"Not great," Kenny managed as he brought down his glass.
"Hmm …," Hank acknowledged, pressing his fingers against the glass. "What's he now? Seven?"
Knew that the kid hadn't been around too long before the whole shit storm after shit storm had hit his family. Changed his role in Gangs. Changed his role in CPD. Changed his role at home. Changed his whole fucking life. For better or worse.
"Yea …," Kenny allowed. "Seven. Almost eight. March."
Hank grunted and shook his head. Fucking awful age to lose a parent. They're old enough to know – to remember, to have a whole lot of questions. And poor Colin would have a whole lot more memories than just his mom passing. From the bit Hank had heard, did know that it hadn't dragged on too long. Delayed diagnosis and limited options – which apparently hadn't worked. But with kids – even 18 months feels like a lifetime … their whole fucking lifetime. Because 18 months is a good chunk of 84 months in a seven-year-old's life. Damn near a quarter of it. They're still just babies. Little boys. And babies – little boys – they need their moms.
"Hard at that age," Hank provided.
"Yea …," Kenny said and took another slow sip, staring into his whiskey as he brought it down from his mouth. "Not doing so hot at school. Has kind of checked out. Behavior … shit … at home."
"Hmm …," Hank grunted with a little nod. "Normal. Takes time." He gestured at the breezeway where E and Halstead had long ago clattered out, considering Bear's thick skull had now taken up occupancy on Kenny's thigh. Mutt knew when and where he was needed. Guy didn't seem to mind. And he did need it. Could see that he was scruffing at the pup's head. "Ethan was pretty much non-verbal for nearly a year. Still doesn't say much to people he doesn't know."
"Yea …," Kenny nodded. "But … Ethan had other reasons."
Hank shrugged. "Yes and no," he allowed. "Functional enough for the hospital to send him home. Just … the reality of his mom being gone hadn't really clicked in the hospital. Did when we got him home. Regressed a bit. Took him a long time to understand it. Come to terms with it. Still is. Still issues at school. Still behavior at home."
"He was seven too, right?"
"Yeah. Just," he said and took another sip from his whiskey.
Kenny nodded slowly and took sip too, bring it down. "Seems like a nice kid, though. Good kid," he pressed.
Hank smacked but nodded. "Yeah, he is," he agreed. "Real nice kid. Got his own ways of thinking about things and doing things. His own interests. Quirks. But a really good boy. Biased, but one of the best people I've known in my life."
Kenny made another small noise and gave him another broken, thin smile.
"Just got to be there for him, Kenny," Hank nodded at him, keeping his eyes to press forward his message. "Be there – and he'll pull through OK."
"Yea," Kenny nodded but shook his head and looked up at the ceiling for a second before finding his eyes. "It's just hard. The job."
Hank grunted, pushing his tongue around his mouth. Getting to the crux of this meeting. But likely would've preferred this went a little differently. Because framed like this, it'd be going on his gut.
"What's your furlough bank like?" he put to him. "Thought about taking some leave?"
Kenny gave a little sigh but kept his eyes. But could see the sadness there. The rawness. A bit too much like what he saw in his own mirror in the mornings for his liking. But wasn't one to break eye contact first. Not unless he was dismissing the person and what they were saying. Wasn't doing that to Kenny.
"I took a lot of time in the last few months while Lauren was sick," he said.
Hank grunted but gave a little nod. "Kenny, if you need more time – to get your head on straight, to be with your boy – if your supervisor ain't supporting you in that, you can talk to your union rep. There's bereavement funds set aside—"
"I need to work, Hank," he pressed at him with a clear edge. "I need the job."
Hank kept his eyes even though they'd flickered with that anger. Because he heard him. He understood what he was saying. If E hadn't been in the hospital after Camille died, didn't doubt he would've been back to the job within two weeks. Would've run to it. Did with Justin. Sometimes it felt like the job was the only thing that was stable. Predictable as unpredictable as it was. And a real good fucking distraction. Something else –just as real – to focus on.
"I just …," Kenny sighed and took another sip of his whiskey. Liquid courage at this point. Not that the guy needed it. Knew that. So wouldn't judge him too much for taking a momentarily breather to get a drink in. "I remembered that … you moved behind a desk after … you came back to work. Took your sergeant's exam."
"Mmm …," Hank grunted and took his own sip. Letting the guy have another small breather. "Street work doesn't work as well when it's just you at home."
"Exactly," Kenny pressed firmly. That intensity flickering in him again. "But they aren't putting me behind some desk, Hank. And, my folks, I mean, God bless them, they've been there for me and for Lauren and for Colin. But they're both retired now, Hank. Got their own shit they want to be doing—"
"Sure they don't mind helping out with their grandson, Kenny," he put to him.
"I know, I know," he said, shaking his head. "But I don't … want them to be the ones raising my boy. I can't be going out on a case for fucking days at a time and not seeing him. Not being there for him. Just letting them handle it. Not when he's like this."
Hank tapped the edge of his glass on the table and gestured at him. "So what you want me to do about it, Kenny?"
"Hank," he stressed at him, gesturing with his hand in some firmer anger. "You know how they treat us in Gangs when we want to transfer out. No one will fucking touch us with a ten-foot pole. Act like we're all fucking cowboys and dirty cops. For doing our fucking jobs."
"And you think I've got some card I can pull out of my ass to fix that for you?" he put to him.
He sighed at him and slumped back in the chair a bit, gazing at him with variations of anger and hope. Doing some measurement on if that was an opening or if he was getting shut down. Called out and told off.
He finally shrugged. "I heard one of your guys has left," he said.
He nodded. "Yea," he acknowledged. "Had someone move on to bigger and better things. But filled that spot up quick."
Kenny gazed at him more firmly. "It's Bump Season," he put bluntly. "I might've heard that some guys in your unit might be being looked at. And that some of your guys might be looking."
"Mmm …," he allowed.
Could ask who. But didn't really need to. Knew Adam was on that list. Had thought Kevin might be but had been doing his best to make sure that kid felt a bit more appreciated and acknowledged. Giving him a bit more responsibility. Thought Atwater was likely going to hold on for the ride for a bit longer before he wrangled his way up the ladder.
Had expected Erin to bail out but she hadn't – so doubted she would now. Knew she had her reasons for that – or thought she did. But also knew a lot of it boiled down to self-confidence. Erin sold herself short at all. Not that he wanted to lose his girl from the bullpen. Had before and felt the missing piece.
And Halstead? Well, eventually one of them had to leave if they ever tied the knot formally and handed in the appropriate paperwork legally acknowledging it to the Ivory Tower. So when SWAT had done some sniffing about it, hadn't put the kibosh on it. Hadn't told them to keep the fuck away from his people – his team. Because it didn't seem like the worst Jay could do. In fact, seemed like it might be another spot where he could do a whole lot of good, if he had to lose him from his unit.
"Intelligence isn't exactly a desk job," Hank put to him. "Specialized unit."
"I know that," Kenny said.
Hank twisted his glass again, as he continued to examine the guy. Measure him. "Still end up working a lot of nights. Get called in. Lots of cases where I expect to see everyone asses parked at their desks until we get it closed. All hands on deck."
"I understand, sir," he said.
Hank grunted. "So not sure moving to Intelligence does much of anything in solving your problem of wanting to be there more for your boy."
"You make it work," he pressed.
"I've got help," Hank to him flatly.
"Erin and Jay Halstead? Both who work in your unit and are all hands on deck on all these cases?" Kenny said with the know-it-all tone that he clearly really hadn't outgrown. But reminded Hank of too many people he knew. Many in his own family – in that house and on the job.
He gave the guy a smack. "Got a problem with that?"
Kenny made a small faux mea culpa face and gave his head a little shake. "No, sir."
"Good," Hank said. "Because if you've got a problem with that, we've got a problem. My unit. My way."
"Yes, sir," Rixton acknowledged. Way too fucking formally.
Hank grunted and took the final swig of his whiskey.
"Does that mean you'll approve my transfer papers?" he asked.
"It's Bump Season," Hank acknowledged.
"It is Bump Season," Kenny confirmed.
He grunted again and rose. "I'll put in a request to borrow you. We'll go from there. Won't need you until January."
Kenny rose up too, but Hank was already headed back to finishing up with the leftovers. Halstead hadn't taken his and Erin's so he better fucking come in when he dropped Eth off and not just toss the kid out the truck's door on the drive-by. Though, could likely do without the actual "who the fuck was that" rather than just the "who the fuck is that" look.
"Hank, thank you," Rixton stressed at him.
But he just allowed another grunt, glancing at his watch. "Got about 120 minutes left of the 150 a week I have the option of being alone in this house, Rixton. So get the hell out."
Saw a bit more of a real grin pull at the guy's mouth. But he nodded and started to head for his boots at the front door.
"Hope Christmas goes OK for you all," Kenny offered sincerely with another sad edge to it.
Hank gave a nod. "For you and Colin too."
That broken smile again. "See you in 2017," he allowed as he stepped out of the kitchen.
Hank grunted and looked at his empty whiskey glass. 2017. Had to be better than 2016. Maybe he could fucking drink to that.
AUTHOR NOTE: Yes, I know some of you hate when I write about things actually happening on the show. But for me, looking at things that happened on the show from a different angle, is fun and interesting. And I wanted to get to explore some of this character and his potential backstory and the how/when/why of Voight agreeing to take him on in Intelligence before CPD tells us it. I realize this won't likely be why he's testing him out. I also realize that the character will likely only be around for a handful of episodes. But this is what I decided to do. If you don't like it, don't read it.
And, yes, I know some of you are disappointed that this wasn't the Christmas party chapter. Maybe you'll get one next. If there is a next.
Your readership, reviews and feedback are appreciated.