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 'HERO'. It will be reordered later.
Erin lifted her head off the pillow slightly as she heard the footsteps creaking up the stairs and then felt Hank's presence in the doorway. She'd heard him come in and heard him say some things to Jay – but they'd been a definite lack of conversation. Now he was hovering outside Ethan's door. She gazed at him for a moment and then let her hand drop away from her passive twisting of Ethan's blonde hair in where he'd finally drifted off against her shoulder – leaving her to stare at the bottom of the top bunk overhead and to get lost in her own thoughts.
She wriggled out from under his deadweight, him making a small noise of protest but settling into the pillow and the mattress without a fuss. Before she could move to tuck the covers more tightly around him, Bear had snuck up to claim her arm spot on the bed and cuddle into Ethan, resting his head on his paws and seeming to start to drift back to sleep just as quickly as her baby brother.
She walked to the door, giving Hank a thin smile as she stepped outside it and reached to pull it shut behind her. But he put out his hand to stop her, leaving it partway open and gazing in at Eth's form in the dark as she settled her shoulder against the wall outside.
"He OK?" Hank asked.
Erin gave a little shrug. "Yea," she conceded. "He was just a little worked up about seeing the mark on my neck and not getting a straight answer about what happened. Got into one of his question-and-answer sessions about what happened to his mom. The crash."
Hank gazed at her sadly for a moment with that and then shifted his eyes back into the bedroom. "What'd you tell him?"
"Usual talking points," Erin said flatly.
It was a dumbed down story that was supposed to be easier for Ethan to digest. Maybe it was easier for all of them to digest that way.
'Your mom was driving to pick-up your brother from a party. She had to take you because it was late and we were working so there was no one in the house to leave you with. She ended up driving through an area where there was a shooting. One of the bullets hit your mom. She was in shock and disoriented and she drove through a red and into an intersection. A truck was on-coming - really fast - and it hit the car really hard.'
There were always the follow-up questions:
'Did she hurt?' … 'No, Ethan. She died on impact. It happened way too fast for Mommy to have felt anything.' Erin really hoped – for Ethan and for Camille – they weren't lying about that.
'What happened to me? Why didn't I die?' … 'Somehow you got thrown from the car, Ethan. You got really hurt. You hurt you head. Your brain. And you were in a coma for a while.' No one ever knew how to answer the 'why didn't I die?' part. Luck? God smiles on little children? Complete happenstance? A miracle? There wasn't an easy answer but he hadn't died. But he had been put on a really long road that seemed like it was harder than most.
'Did it happen because of dad's job?' That hadn't been one when he was little. But it came up more now. Now that he heard things from people about what happened from their point of view. Now that he heard whispers about who his dad was and who people thought he was and things he did and didn't do and how all that fit together in his twelve-year-old's mind. But the easy answer to that one was that it wasn't because of Hank's job – even though Erin knew that Hank would always carry blame for what happened to his wife and what happened to his son. Scars he had to bear. And ones that reared their face at him every day in more ways than one.
And then also new was, 'Could you get hurt at work?' He hadn't asked that much when he was little. He hadn't even asked it much when Hank or Justin were in jail. He'd asked if people were mean in jail. He'd speculated on the kinds of criminals who were in jail. But he hadn't seemed to consider that there was a very real possibility that Justin or his dad could get hurt in jail. And they had. They both had. But that wasn't something they ever talked about as a family either.
It'd been more since the summer that Ethan seemed to have this realization about the level of danger that existed in their day-to-day. Maybe it was because he saw the late nights they sometimes had. Or saw their stars. Or their guns. Or heard little stories. Or was in at the District and saw the uniforms and criminals and wanted posters and case boards. Or maybe it was because he saw the looks in her eyes or Hank's – and he was old enough now to understand some of what was going on behind them even if he couldn't entirely imagine it and they were doing their best to protect him from ever having to understand it.
They always provided him such B.S. answers for that question too. That they were careful. That they were trained. That the whole unit had their back. That most cops go through their whole careers without taking a bullet and anything that happened to them would just be scrapes and bruises.
Erin had to admit that having Ethan home made her more conscious of it all too. She didn't like seeing him scared. Worrying about them. And she also didn't want to be the source of his worry. And didn't want to think about the pain he'd go through if anything serious ever did happen to her or Hank – or even Justin now when he got deployed. Seeing how concerned he was too when the only glimpse he had of what had really happened was a two inch scratch on her neck and some redness. Something that would physically fade in a matter of days – even if the experience was going to stay with her long after that.
"He settle down?" Hank asked passively.
Erin shrugged. "I gave him one of his anxiety meds," she said. Hank cast her a look but she just shrugged at him again. Sometimes she didn't know what to do when Ethan got worked up like that. Sometimes when he was worked up like that it started to exacerbate some of his other issues – which she knew neither of them wanted. So even though they all had issue with Ethan needing those kinds of pills – it'd seemed like a night where it she was justified in giving him one.
"You take one?" he put to her.
She eyed him harshly at that suggestion. "Not my pills," she said flatly.
He gave a little nod, accepting the answer and going back to looking at Ethan. She glared at him a moment. Sometimes it still felt like he didn't trust her. Didn't believe that she could keep clean and stay straight. To avoid those banana peels. Like he was waiting for her to find another one to slip one. Or worse – like he thought what had happened that afternoon likely was one and she was about to backtrack in some way. But she didn't really want to fight about it. She figured they had other battles. They always did.
"How was your 'dinner invite'?" she put to him a little sarcastically.
He gave her another glance. A little disapproving. "Good. Seems like Eddie has got things set up to give this a real go," he said.
"Mmm …" Erin allowed – internally rolling her eyes. She knew how Hank felt about the guy but she wasn't sure how she felt about him – even if she'd been polite to him the other day. "Noticed the dinner invite wasn't over here."
Hank shrugged. "You know how I feel about these guys seeing E," he said. "Would've preferred that none of them saw you either."
"Anyone who wants to know anything about you, knows you have kids, Hank," she provided.
"Don't mean they got to see what they look like," he said and found her eyes. "You all are a liability," he said and then gestured through the door. "Especially him. Still a little kid. Still home."
Erin raised an eyebrow at him. "A liability, huh? And yet you keep saying you want more grandkids and that I should be getting barefoot and pregnant."
He snorted at her. "Housewife, no. Have some kids of your own. Start a family. Yes," he said and looked her in the eyes. "Being a father – a parent, it's the best thing in the world. You guys. H. Best things in my life. Every day I'm thankful for getting to be a father and grandfather."
Erin kept his gaze for a moment longer but couldn't keep it. She always found it hard to hear him say that for some reason. He told them regularly enough. Not daily. Not even monthly. But he made sure they heard it. Erin liked hearing it but there was something about it that always seemed like an apology too that somehow made her uncomfortable. She knew Hank had made his mistakes. With all of them. Not just with Justin. But she didn't know he needed to – or should be – apologizing for any of it. Even when he hadn't been there – he'd been there. In his own way.
"How are you doing?" he asked, as her gaze moved to her baby brother instead of him.
She shrugged. "I'm OK," she said.
She could feel him looking at her. "You think you should be talking to someone too? Dr. Charles?"
She cast him angry eyes. "I'm fine, Hank."
His eyes looked sad. Those sad eyes that that girl's father had had. Only Hank's were filled with way more knowing than his. Knowledge. He'd seen things. He'd dealt with things. And people. Things that man hadn't dealt with. Things he could only imagine. And Hank knew she had too.
"Don't know how fine you are," he said.
"I'm fine," she pressed even more firmly.
He grunted at her and gestured toward the stairs. "Halstead doesn't look so fine," he provided.
Erin shrugged. "He's OK," she said. Another lie. Seemed like her night was full of telling little lies. Stretch – or hiding – the truth. To try to protect people. Or herself.
"Looked like you'd been into my liquor cabinet," he said.
"I had one," she hissed. It felt like he was testing her again. Questioning her on her ability to know when to stop. Letting his distaste about her going beyond two hang above her. Treating her like a child. Or a drunk. Or an addict. Or all three.
"How many Halstead have?"
"I wasn't keeping count," she said with more annoyance.
"Mmm …" Hank grunted and gazed at her. "You know today is exactly why—"
"Hank, I'm really not ready to talk about it yet," she interrupted.
He grunted and kept those eyes on her. That look that said he didn't like that she'd cut him off and he really didn't like that she wasn't going to hear him out or let him help. But that he was going to treat her like an adult and respect her wishes – but she'd have to deal with the consequences.
"After his paperwork gets signed off on, he gets back upstairs, that's it," Hank said. "You two aren't riding together anymore. So you're going to want to figure out what we're telling the team about that. Don't want to talk to Charles. Don't want to talk to me. Better talk to him."
She wanted to be angry with him but she didn't really have the emotional energy left for that at that point in the day and he didn't give her a chance anyway. He had his say and he'd gone in the door – likely to check on Eth. Or more likely to scoot poor Bear out of the bed.
But Erin sighed – taking it as a moment of escape – and trudged back downstairs. Jay was still sitting on the couch, tugging at a beer and gazing at the T.V. with a far off stare. She went and sat next to him but he hardly even stirred, so she settled against him and he at least shifted to let his arm wrap around her. She stared at the screen too.
"What are you watching?" she asked.
"Some documentary about some corrupt cop in Brooklyn who was dirtier than the deals her was supposed to be policing," he mumbled.
She cast him a look. "Well, that sounds like a good one to be watching in this house."
He just made a sound and kept looking at the screen. He still had that pallor to him. The Jay she knew – loved – wasn't all there that night.
"Want to talk about it?" she asked.
He gave her a confused look. "I can restart it if you want, it's on Netflix. It's only like ten minutes in."
"About today, Jay," she said more gently. "About what happened."
He gave his head a little shake and took a swig of his beer.
"Hank says—"
"I don't want to talk about Hank either," he cut her off.
She sat up a bit and stared at him. This wasn't the Jay she knew. It had rattled him more than maybe she'd initially thought. Maybe she'd let him have too much time to think on it while she hadn't wanted to talk about it either.
"You know how you tell me I need to get in front of whatever's going on?" she put to him and his eyes shifted to her slightly. "Jay, whatever's going on in your head right now, whatever you're thinking, you're feeling – you need to get in front of it. We both do."
"I'm fine," he muttered.
"You don't seem fine," she said.
He just shook his head at her and shifted more away from her weight – to the point he was starting to get up. "You staying here tonight or you want a lift home?"
"I don't think you should be driving anywhere right now," she put to him.
He shrugged and pulled out his phone. "Sure, I'll get an Uber."
She stood and grabbed the phone out of his hand until he met her glare. "I'll drive you," she said. "But we need to talk."
"You didn't want to talk," he said.
"I still don't want to talk," she put to him. "But we need to, Jay. Or this is going to fucking pull us apart."