Title: Interesting Dynamics
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: Hank and Erin are forced to re-explore their complicated 'family' dynamic when an unexpected 'family emergency' causes Voight to have to deal with demons related to his wife's death, his failings in parenting, and the challenges his work has created for his family and for his ability to be the father he wants to see himself as.
"You're just going to feel a pinch, Ethan," the technician said, still manhandling the boy's arm.
Erin sat next to him on the gurney, rubbing at his back. He looked so small dressed in the hospital gown. Ethan hadn't let her or his dad help him tie the back and apparently hadn't figured out to tie it before hand and pull it on like a tshirt or to pull the ties around to the front to tie after he got it on. So instead his little boney ass clad in his florescent striped briefs was hanging out. That and his socked feet were the only clothes he'd been allowed to keep on. He looked slightly disheveled and embarrassed about it all.
She glanced at Hank. He was standing just watching. His arms crossed in careful examination of everything that was going on – every step of the process.
Hank had been like that all morning. Rather intimidating. Which was one thing for the medical staff, but it wasn't exactly comforting for Ethan either. It made Erin glad she'd decided to take the day off too. Hank had said 'no'. But she hadn't listened. Because fuck him. Ethan was her baby brother. And, she thought both of them likely needed her there more than they wanted to admit.
She didn't know what Hank had said to Will. Jay claimed it'd been short. That he'd been there. He'd insisted on that. Erin suspected that it was unlikely that Jay would ever let Hank near his brother alone again after what had happened in April. Jay had a way of being rather overprotective too.
But at least she knew that nothing got held over anyone. Both Hank and Jay had confirmed that much. Nothing was promised or threatened. She was glad for that. The boat didn't need to be rocked. But she also knew that in some way things had been promised or threatened. In an underlying kind of way. Someone always owed someone something. Someway. Some how. Definitely when it came to Hank. Just how that played out in the future? That was a different story.
She was trying not to think about it too much because Jay had said that it hadn't turned out to be that big of deal for Will to put in a call about the cancellation list and to see if there were any unforeseen openings. He'd started doing that at the beginning and end of each of his shifts. It had taken all of three days for him to snag a slot for Ethan. They would've been waiting weeks otherwise. Stressing and worrying to even get in and have the initial tests ordered. But with Will's help – Jay's help – here they were now.
They weren't getting everything done that day. But it was enough to get the ball rolling. Enough to start getting some answers. That was all that mattered at that point.
At least then they'd have some glimpse of what they were dealing with. They could hopefully put some fears to rest and start focusing on reality.
Still, Erin had felt like they were in a fucking pinball machine that morning. Registration and check-in and waiting rooms. It was giving her flashbacks to the first two years after the 'accident'. She could only begin to imagine what it was doing to Ethan.
She didn't have to imagine too much. She'd had her hand on his back since nearly when they'd gotten out of the vehicle. He was so tense. So stiff. She could feel his heart pounding right through his back.
Ethan had been skittish in the hospital. Just agitated and restless. Hyper alert. He was clearly having a PTSD episode – which made fucking sense – but they'd been instructed not to give him his medication that morning, which she hated. So instead they had a little boy who was under a great deal of stress and teetering.
First he'd had this series of vision tests. They'd bounced him from room after room. He'd come out from one nearly glowing – or at least as close to glowing as he could get at a hospital – and told them it'd been like a videogame. He'd been less enthused about some of the other tests. The ones where they'd put drops in his eyes – which he complained burned. Then he complained more that everything was fuzzy and he felt funny.
Erin was pretty sure he'd failed one of the vision-oriented tests. That was bad. But she also almost felt better about it. Part of her kept grasping at straws that maybe there really wasn't something wrong with his head. He just needed glasses. She knew she was kidding herself. But sometimes you needed to hold onto a delusion.
They'd been showing Ethan a series of colors and dots and cards and he clearly wasn't registering much of anything when he was looking at them. Hank had barked at them at one point about what they were asking Ethan to read when his son didn't seem to have much reading or visual comprehension at the moment. Of course he was going to fail the test, Hank had pointed out. He'd stopped them at another point and ordered them to give Ethan more time to recognize and process the various letters and numbers. That had seemed to help a bit on some of the charts and cards. But on others that were clearly directed at something a bit more than his clarity of sight, the extra time didn't seem to be doing much.
After they'd gotten through that they'd had Ethan in for endless questions with a resident. The kid had been playing mute, which resulted in Erin and Hank trying to answer the questions for him – as much as they could seeing as they hadn't had daily interaction with him for nearly two years.
Erin could just see Hank becoming more and more pissed off during it. She knew it was mostly at himself –his inability to provide what was likely fairly basic information about the status of Ethan's cognitive abilities and balance and coordination and when they started to notice changes and what kind of changes and his mental and emotional well-being. Only those are tough questions to answer when you are just talking to the kid on the telephone and seeing him on weekend visits every six weeks or so.
Some of the line of questioning resulted in the resident getting given attitude by Hank. Ethan got barked at by his dad to talk to the doctor. That just made Ethan get quieter and quieter. Erin was fairly certain the resident had been scribbling down they were aggressive, non-cooperative and some kind of absentee family that were unfit to care for a child with brain damage. But she was likely thinking worst-case scenario at that point. And, really, even if something like that did get written down and pursued that was definitely the kind of thing that Hank would be able to whip into order – and bury – in a heartbeat. So it wasn't worth getting too worked up about.
It'd been hard to watch Ethan's physical exam after that, though. Some of it was fairly standard. Them taking his vitals and tapping and poking and prodding. But she'd watched as he clearly struggled with some of the balance and coordination tests. It was strange because in his day-to-day life she hadn't noticed any of it really. Ethan had a bit of a gait. But Hank had a gait – that walk like he already had something up his ass. Just the bulldog. Beyond that, Ethan's one leg was so full of metal and screws that it was barely a human leg that existed under the flesh anymore. They'd always been just thankful that Ethan was put back together enough that he was able to walk. Not just that but run and play. He needed that. He was an active kid and with his restlessness and agitation, if he wasn't out playing something – doing his sports – he was crawling out of his skin around them. She hadn't spent a lot of time analyzing just how he walked – beyond thinking it must be normal for him. But that morning some of it didn't look quite so normal when watching it in slow motion and seeing him struggle to follow simple instructions when it involved more co-ordinated and minute efforts to move his joints or muscles and extremities in a specific way.
It wasn't like Ethan was falling over or all over himself but it was obvious some things he wasn't doing properly. Or he wasn't seeing. He was missing marks. He wasn't reacting. He was stumbling ever so slightly. And, there'd been visible wincing in the boy as they manipulated some of his joints. There'd been another instance where the doctor was touching his toes – out of Ethan's sight – and he didn't seem to even know he was being manipulated. And when he'd been asked to move his feet in a certain position, it was like he couldn't get them to move but like the boy seemed to think he was.
Hank just kept pulling at his chin and casting her looks. But what could they say? Nothing in front of Ethan. She didn't even know what they'd say when they got a chance to talk when Ethan was asleep that night. She wasn't even sure she wanted to talk about it yet. She didn't want to have a discussion until she knew what they were actually talking about – until she'd heard it from the horse's mouth. Until they had the results from the doctor. And that wasn't going to be today.
They'd then ended up sitting around waiting for Ethan to get some blood work done and for him to piss into a bottle. They'd had to wait for the results but apparently whatever they'd needed to look at immediately allowed (or necessitated) him getting his MRI done that day too. That news hadn't gone over well with Ethan. He hadn't been allowed to eat breakfast. At that point it was almost lunch. He was overwhelmed and he was hungry. He wanted to leave.
He'd done some rather vocal whining at Hank where he'd sounded even more like a little boy. But he'd known that some things weren't going well. He sensed it too. He knew in his own head things were off even before they got to the hospital. He'd likely known for months and months but hadn't wanted to admit it to his family. Thankfully Hank hadn't been too harsh with him while he was having his minor meltdown. But it'd been very clear that they weren't going anywhere until the MRI was done.
Erin felt Ethan flinch even more as the technician shoved the line into his little arm. A flash of blood filling the tubing. The plastic casing looked huge against his forearm. She just rubbed at his back more while the tubing got taped into place.
"OK," the tech said. "It shouldn't be too long. Someone will be out to get you."
And then she was gone, pulling the curtain closed – leaving them alone for the moment.
Ethan reached and picked at the tape holding all these tubes from the line they'd be injecting the contrast through. Erin reached and pulled his hand away.
"Eth, don't do that," she scolded gently.
"It feels weird the way she put it," he protested and pulled his wrist out of her hand.
"Ethan, she put it that way for a reason," she said more firmly and grabbed at his wrist to still it.
"It's pulling. It hurts," he protested.
He was so fucking agitated at that point. It was like dealing with a toddler who was way past his nap time and you knew he just had to lay down before he imploded. But that wasn't likely to happen just yet. She could wish that he'd nap through his MRI – but with all that noise, not likely.
"Listen to your sister," Hank said firmly, crossing his arms and rocking slightly on his heels.
Ethan gave him a pathetic look. "I'm hungry," he said again – for about the twentieth time.
"Yea," Hank acknowledged. "And the nurse said you'd get some juice after this."
"Can't we just go after?" he whined even louder.
Hank cast his eyes downward until he caught the boy's eyes. "After this you piss in a cup for them again, drink your juice, let them do a blood draw – and if they're happy, we can go."
Ethan huffed. "And then I can eat?"
"Then you can eat," Hank allowed.
"How much longer?" Ethan demanded.
Hank gave the bridge of his nose a small squeeze. Erin could tell he was tired too – or just frustrated with how the day had been going. Hank hated being in the hospital too. It didn't exactly bring back positive memories for him either. It didn't for any of them.
"I don't know," he muttered. "This scan is supposed to take about forty minutes she said."
"But then we have to do the other stuff?" Ethan huffed.
"Yea," Hank spat and caught his son's eyes again. "We do. So we're likely going to be here at least a couple more hours, bud. So suck it up."
Ethan flared his nostrils at that and went back to picking at the tape. Erin grabbed at his hand again.
"Eth, why don't you lie down and try to rest a bit until they come get you?" she suggested.
He cast her a glare. "No," he said firmly.
She just held his eyes. "OK," she put back just as firmly. "You don't have to give me attitude about it."
The curtain pulled back and a male technician stood looking at a clipboard. "Ethan Voight," he said and then examined Ethan for a moment and cast his eyes to Hank instead. It was clearly Hank who was in charge in the room. His demeanor always gave that vibe off.
"Yeah," Hank allowed and nodded at the kid.
"OK," he said. "We're ready for you."
Ethan gave her a nervous look, so Erin just gave him a small smile and pushed herself off the gurney, sticking out her hand.
"C'mon," she encouraged.
He let out a little sigh but took her hand and let himself slide down to the ground. He could be such a little boy sometimes. She wondered how much longer that would last. Sometimes it seemed like he'd had most of the little kid knocked out of him and then there were the times – the days – where it was just so clear he was still a kid. He had a lot of growing up to do. He needed them. Their support. Love. To tell him it was going to be alright – even if it meant they were lying to him.
Hank just nodded for them to go first and he took up the rear as the tech lead them through a short maze of corridors with rooms off them full of flashing lights and loud sounds of the magnets pulsing to take the layer-by-layer pictures of people's insides. Ethan gripped at her hand more tightly. Almost too tightly. He definitely had some good strength in his hands at least.
The tech pounded on a button and a door swung open. But then he gestured back down the hall.
"Waiting room is back out that way," he said.
Ethan gaped upward at that - first looking at her and then searching frantically behind him. "No!" he protested. "I want my dad."
The tech let out a sigh and looked at Hank. "Take off the boots and you can come in while I get him set up. But I can't have you guys in here during the scan."
Hank gave a small nod in acknowledgement. Erin was almost surprised at that. She almost expected him to argue. To say he at least wanted to be in the control room with the technicians. But she also knew that getting Ethan's MRI had been Hank's biggest priority. He likely wasn't going to say or do anything that would jeopardize getting Ethan on that table right then. And, he definitely wasn't going to do anything that might somehow compromise the results.
He bent to unlace his boots but the tech again gestured at Ethan. "I can get you started," he said.
But Ethan just huddled closer to Erin, wrapping his one arm around her waist like he could somehow use her as an anchor.
"Why can't Erin come too?" he almost whimpered.
The tech sighed. "We don't need extra people tracking in and out of here," he muttered and entered the room himself to start prepping.
Erin just gave Ethan a little smile and wrapped her arm around his shoulder, giving it a little squeeze and a little shake. "It's fine, Eth," she assured. "Your dad will get you settled. I'll wait right here and then we'll just be down there until the nurse comes gets us. No big deal."
He made a small noise that clearly indicated he didn't agree. But it didn't much matter. It wasn't exactly a topic open for debate.
Hank rose and held out his big, heavy dirty boots at her. She took them with her free hand. The things weighed a ton.
He gripped at Ethan's shoulder. "C'mon," he ordered. "Let's go."
Ethan let out a defeated sigh and cast her another sad look but unwrapped himself and let his dad guide him into the big bay. Erin stood at the open door and just watched.
The technician pointed at the table. "Sit up there," he said.
Ethan cast Hank a glance but moved and sat down. Hank gave him as near as he could get to a tender grimace as he could manage and patted at his shoulder. The tech handed him earplugs and nodded at Ethan. Hank worked them in his fingers a bit and then handed the first one to his boy.
"In your ear," Hank said evenly.
Another little noise from the kid but he reached and pressed it into his ear. Hank reached and tilted his head a bit, examining the job he'd done. Apparently he wasn't satisfied because his finger poked delicately at Ethan's ear before he shifted his attention to working the earplug still in his fingers a bit more. He seemed to feel the need to get it squished down more before trying to ram it in Ethan's opposite ear.
"I don't wanna do this, Dad," Ethan whined.
Hank didn't even look at him. "It's just an MRI, Magoo," he said. "You've dealt with worse."
"But I don't wanna," Ethan said again.
His eyes did find the kid's at that. "There's lots of things in life we've got to do that we don't want to do," Hank said firmly and then clutched at his boy's chin and almost scientifically pressed the opposite earplug in. Ethan pawed a bit at his ear after it was done to make it a bit more comfortable.
"You lie still and do as you're told," Hank said. "We don't want to have to come back and do all this bullshit again, do we?"
"No," Ethan agreed quietly.
Hank gave him a solid nod and patted at his shoulder again and glanced to find the tech.
"You can just lie back," the tech said.
Ethan let out a slow breath but listened. The tech looping a head covering over the boy's head as he did – making him look more like he was going into surgery than an MRI tube. His boy was miscue on the large tray. It must've been upsetting for Hank to look at too – too many memories – because he actually found Ethan's hand and gripped at it. He was only allowed to a moment, though. The tech tucked some padding under Ethan's knees and then pulled a blanket up over him. Erin knew Hank hated that movement too. She did it took. It always felt like it was going to be a sheet pulled up over a body. Like something bad was being covered up.
"I need to put the cage over his head," the technician said.
Hank nodded but Erin had known him long enough to see the moment's hesitance in him as he gazed at his boy. Hank had more of a soft spot for Ethan than he let on. He did for all his kids. His family. It was a wonder it didn't get used against him more often. But maybe it was because everyone seemed to know what happened to people who crossed his family. Just what kind of lengths he'd take to protect and look after his own. How far out there he'd put himself.
Hank patted at Ethan's cheek. "You're going to be OK, Magoo," he said. "We'll see you in a bit."
"Yea," Ethan allowed meekly.
Hank gave a thin smile. Erin wasn't sure how reassuring it was. But she did know from experience that even though Hank's facial expressions weren't always the most reassuring – the fact he was there was. Sometimes Hank gave you a bit of an invincible feeling. He was your flak jacket when all hell was flying at you. It didn't matter that he didn't much know how to smile. Him being there counted for more than that.
Hank took a small step back and the tech stepped forward, locking this mask over top of Ethan's face. He looked somewhere between a goalie and Hannibal Lecter. Then the man shoved a little bulb into the boy's hand.
"Squeeze that if there's a problem," the tech said. He clearly wasn't very kid friendly.
He stepped up to the panel and pressed a button. The tray slowly started to move.
"Just close your eyes, Ethan," Hank said. "You're going to be fine." His hand patting at his son's leg as he disappeared into the tube. He gave the boy's foot a final squeeze as the tech clearly nodded for him to leave. "OK, E," he called. "Your sister and I are just going to be right down the hall. We'll see you in a few."
His hand stayed on the boy even as he walked away and he had to drop it away. Erin caught Hank's eyes as he joined her outside the door, it swinging shut as he exited. Ethan disappeared from sight.
Hank met her eyes briefly – but they had that sad and haunted look it sometimes got. There was fight in them. Anger. But a deep sadness. This sense of failure. But then he just rubbed harshly at his face in three quick scrubs and then reached and took his boots out of her hand and padded still sock-footed down the hall. Leaving her standing there looking after him and then gazing at the door as the chirping and clicking echoes of the MRI machine started behind them.
She hoped that they weren't lying to Ethan when they were telling him he was going to be fine. That it was going to be OK.