Title: Scenes
Author: ZombieJazz
Fandom: Chicago PD
Disclaimer: I don't own them. Chicago PD and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Ethan has been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.
Summary: A collection of one-shots/scenes using the characters as represented in the AU established in Interesting Dynamics. The chapters currently represent scenes happening immediately after So This is Christmas. As I continue to update, they'll just provide one-shot snap shots into the characters' lives and likely some recasts of scenes from the show. This series focuses on Voight and his family, as well as Erin Lindsay's growing relationship with Jay Halstead. This is not a linear narrative with a beginning-middle-end. It's just scenes.
SPOILER ALERT: There are MAJOR spoilers in this collection from Interesting Dynamics and So This is Christmas.
AUTHOR NOTE: This chapter comes immediately after Try Outs. It will be moved to reorder later.
Jay snuck up on her in the break room where she was trying to get some alone time to recompose herself. It was taking a while. The whole thing had shaken her more than she wanted to admit. Or even think about. The position that she'd been put in. What had nearly happened. The flashbacks that had washed over her in the panic of what she'd gone through in the past. Things she didn't want to think about. Things she refused to think about. That she buried down and pretend didn't happen and maintained they didn't define her – and it was the long ago past. Something she'd been rescued from – removed from – and it had no bearing on her now.
It did, though. It'd dredged it all up. Seeing that fourteen year old girl and knowing what had been done to her – against her will, in the dark of night, in her own bed, in her sleep. She'd seen the change in the girl – where the child you were in your early teens was ripped from you before you were ready. She'd seen the look on her father's face and his helplessness. And she'd seen those things before. In herself. In Hank. Not that Hank had been helpless but there'd still been that look in his eyes when he knew what was going on or later when she allowed herself to get into situation that let it continue when he was already trying to help her – remove her from all that.
She'd seen him cast those looks toward her as they worked the case too. Measuring how she was interacting with it. If she was handling it. If she was OK. If she was level. Or if they were at another banana peel. One neither of them wanted her to be at. One they didn't have time for.
But even pushing aside that – like she always did because she wasn't sure it'd ever be something she'd be fully ready to admit or deal with - there was the fact she'd bought it. She'd missed what was really happening. That woman – who she was, what she was. And she'd let herself end up in that situation. Maybe worse – she'd put Jay in a situation where he'd just blown someone's brains out for her sake.
Erin knew that's what he was trained to do. That he'd done it before. But the unmistakable reality was that he'd just been forced to take a life on her account. And that was likely just the kind of situation that Hank didn't want them to be in. It was why he didn't like in-house relationships. It was why he wasn't going to let them ride together anymore. Why they couldn't be partners anymore.
Because maybe Jay had pulled the trigger a little quickly because it was her who'd had a knife to her throat.
And now it was him who'd had his gun taken away from him when they'd left the house. Him who'd have to fill out the paperwork about the shooting. Him who'd have to prove to IA that it was a good shot. And him who'd have it on his record that his kill count had just gone up. That he'd fired shots. That he'd taken a life. And whether it was a good shot or not – whether he was deemed to have followed policy and procedure or not – it'd be him who'd have it hanging on his record and be something that got brought up (or at least considered) at other stages in his career and as other life-and-death and spur-of-the-moment decisions were made by him.
He'd complicated his jacket, his life, his career – maybe even his morals – for her. He'd killed for her. Or because of her.
"You alright?" he asked, as she still tried to ignore him – even though she knew if he was coming up behind her he was just getting back from the bureaucratic hoops he'd had to go and jump through with the Ivory Tower and Platt downstairs. And that there wasn't much point in coming back – because he undoubtedly would've been told to take the rest of the shift off and likely not show his face again until he'd had his psych check-in, which likely wouldn't happen until at least tomorrow. And Voight would just tell him the same – to play it by the book. As much as he pushed the bounds on some things – as he knew how to find and operate in all the grey areas – this wasn't one of them. It was his team and he didn't like them to be short-handed or to have bureaucratic eyes on them from cops who'd forgotten how to do the job or why they were doing it. So she knew there was only one reason he'd come back there - her.
But it still wasn't enough for her to immediately turn to him. To look at him. She kept on focusing on trying to calm. Like continuing to bob the teabag in the hot drink she didn't even really want was somehow going to make things better in the few more seconds it was buying her.
She finally let herself turn. To look at him. But he had that look on his face. One she hated seeing and one she felt like she got way too much at work. She knew it was because he cared. But it also made her feel weak. Like she couldn't take care of herself. Like she was disappointing him. And like he was always having to bail her out or tell her what to do to get her out of these situations. And she hated that. She really did.
She leaned against the counter and frowned at him. "Yeah," she allowed. Because what more could she really say. She was alive. She barely had a scratch to show for it. But no – she sure as fuck wasn't alright. And they both knew it. Everyone in the unit knew it that afternoon. Hank did too. But she wasn't going to admit that.
She knew he wasn't buying it. Why would he? The emotions that played across his face weren't as well hidden as he might think. At least not to her. And she could see it in his eyes. He was hurting too. He was scared. Tired. There was a pain there. There was a glassiness to them that somehow hurt her more to see – because there really hadn't been any other time she'd seen that in them. And she thought that might scare her a bit too. Make it harder.
He looked down for a moment – like he'd realized she'd noticed the look there. But it was only for a split second before he brought them back up to hers.
"Promise me one thing," he said raspy with the slightest quiver that she didn't miss either. She struggled hearing it. Looking at him. But he corrected his tone, becoming firmer. "Never go in without back-up again."
She sighed and looked away. She knew he meant well but it was patronizing. "Yeah …" she allowed.
"I mean it," he stressed a bit more urgently. "Even to get a parking ticket. It goes for all of us."
She allowed him a small, sad smile and moved closer to him. "I'm already kicking myself," she assured him. He nodded – like he was expecting them to have a talk right there about what he'd had to do, about what it meant. But Erin wasn't ready for that and she pivoted. "It's just … that girl. I don't know … I bought it."
She had to look away as she said it because she saw the change in his face again. The realization that they weren't going to go where he thought. The frown still creasing his face as she brought her eyes back to his – silently asking for his understanding that she wasn't ready to talk about it yet. Not there. Not with everyone else in the next room.
"We all did," he assured her and then allowed her the escape, giving her an apologetic look. "Lecture over. You want to get a beer?"
She let her sad eyes stay on him. "Definitely …" she agreed.
But there was a clicking near the door and she glanced to see Ethan standing unsurely in the doorway giving her a look of trepidation.
"Dad says I'm supposed to tell you both that you aren't supposed to be here," he said. "Like not in here. Like not at District."
Erin gave him a thin smile. "We were just leaving," she assured.
He kept gazing at her. "He said to ask if you can take me home because he got a dinner invite," Ethan provided flatly.
She squinted at him. "A dinner invite?" Ethan just shrugged and Erin sighed and looked at Jay. Some frustration washed across his face too. "There's beer at Hank's …" she provided quietly. He just grunted. There'd be beer in the fridge downstairs but they wouldn't be talking. Not yet. But maybe she liked it better that way. Maybe she didn't want to delve too far into this just yet. "I'll get you home, Ethan," she said turning back to him.
He just kept staring at her and she cocked her eyebrow at him. "Are you alright?" he asked cautiously.
She gave him a weak smile. "Yeah …" she agreed.
The stare continued. "You've got a mark on your neck," he told her quietly.
Her hand smacked up. She hadn't realized it was that visible – that Ethan could see it from the door. The knife had barely scraped her skin. But she gazed at her fingers to see if there was still lingering drips of blood and she pulled at the collar of her sweater trying to hide the mark from view.
"I'm fine, Ethan," she told him with a firm urgency.
But his eyes just kept on taking her in. This measured look that wasn't unlike the one Hank gave her. But somehow getting them from Ethan was almost more disturbing because they were too penetrating for a boy his age.
"What happened?" he asked.
She just shook her head and shrugged. "Nothing," she provided. "Just work."
Ethan's eyes stayed on her a moment. They clearly conveyed that he knew he was being lied to and then they shifted to Jay in a careful examination. Jay still with that slightly stunted, glassy-eyed look. This paleness about him. Nearly a fatigue. That complexion that so rarely washed over him but when it did it provided that reminder that they still knew so little about each other. That they still held in so many of their secrets. That she still didn't know what exactly it was that had really happened to him in Afghanistan. What he'd seen or done. But it'd been something. Because she knew that look and knew that complexion and she knew she was wearing it that afternoon too. Post-traumatic stress underscored it. And it was even more intensified when it was being triggered by someone you cared about. Someone you loved.
"Did you take care of her?" Ethan asked him in a near whisper.
And Jay just gave him the faintest nod. "Yea, I did, Eth," he said. "I told you. I've got her back. You don't need to worry."
Ethan kept gazing at them. His eyes shifting between them but then he turned, mumbling about needing to get his stuff. As she watched him go, she let her hand come down from her mug and her pinky discretely hook around his.
"My hero," she whispered in a quiet tease from years gone by. Thing was it wasn't a tease anymore. It hadn't been for a while. There was a truth to it. A real one. 'My hero.' He was.