An eight-year-old Charlie bounded through the thick grass, giggles erupting from her lips as she chased after her older brother, with arms outstretched as though if she made it just a few more steps, she could catch him and never let him go. They had been ambling around outside for what felt like hours, the fresh air of one of the first genuinely warm days after a brutal Chicago winter doing more for their state of mind than anything else ever could. And although the little girl could feel the tips of her fingers starting to go numb as the sun continued to sink beneath the tree line up ahead, she was not about to give up, and venture back inside until a clear victor had been chosen in their impromptu game of tag, her voice scratchy around the ragged breaths she drew while her feet pounded against the ground and jarred every bone in her body as a result.

"Justin—wait up!"

"Not gonna happen," Her older brother retorted, somehow managing to put on another burst of speed as he headed towards the edge of the forest bordering the back of their family home, and risked a glance over his shoulder to discern exactly where his little sister was, behind him, "You gotta be faster, Char."

"I'm trying my best," Charlie huffed, her arms pumping as she followed in Justin's wake, while her muscles burned as a result of her efforts, "Your legs are so much longer than mine!"

"Yeah, because I'm older!"

"Well, it's not fair."

"Since when is life ever fair?"

Emitting a frustrated groan in response to the honestly predictable reply her brother had given her, Charlie did as best she could to hurry after him, or at least, she did until a misplaced step caused her ankle to twist in an unseen rut in the ground, and she went down on the ground with a thud and a shrill scream of surprise. With a groan, she struggled to catch her breath after it had been knocked from her lungs, her palms pushing against the dirt and grass beneath them as she struggled to stand once again. Of course, such an act was impossible, as even the slightest pressure on the foot in question caused spasms of pain to rack their way up her leg, until she crumpled in a heap once more. And so, she did the only thing she could do, after a glance towards the tree line told her Justin had already disappeared into the forest, a low whimper escaping as she forced herself up onto her hands and knees, to begin a slow trek back towards the house.

It was agony, of course, moving along at a crawl, with each slight jolt of her body causing her ankle to throb as though someone were mashing away at it with an invisible hammer. She didn't know enough to be able to tell if it was broken, or merely sprained, though in the wake of the pain she was feeling, such distinctions really didn't seem to matter too much. And although it truly was not that great of a distance from the tree line to the back door of their home, Charlie now found that it seemed to take an age to simply drag herself even half that distance, hot tears suddenly starting to run down her cheeks as she came to a stop, and struggled to catch her breath so that she could attempt to force those tears away.

Pain or not, she hated the fact that she was so visibly shaken, given who she came from, and as her hands came up to dash at the moisture on her cheeks, she bit down on the skin of her lower lip in hopes that the new source of slight discomfort would distract her from the relentless throbbing of her ankle.

It did not.

With a discouraged groan as the only outward sign of her frustration with herself, however, Charlie forced herself to keep moving forward, her eyes remaining glued upon the back of her home as a source of motivation when all she really wanted to do was lie flat on her back until someone came to find her. She knew, truthfully, that all she really had to do was call out, and one or both of her parents would likely hear her through the open back window of the kitchen. But some sort of childish pride and a refusal to allow her father to see her as weak prevented her from doing exactly that, her teeth grinding together in an effort to avoid crying out as she continued to haul herself towards the back door.

By some miracle, she actually made it to her destination, though it did seem to take an eternity to do so, her hands and arms now trembling as she pushed herself up and attempted to stand once again. The effort caused a small yelp to wring from her lips, but she did manage to navigate her position against the door frame so that she could twist the knob, and open it, regardless. And that was apparently the last straw for her already fractured composure, the first step she attempted to take into the utility room causing her leg to tremble until it could bear her weight no longer, and she tumbled to the floor with a crash, and narrowly avoided smacking her forehead on the washing machine in the process.

"Justin? Is that you?"

"It's—it's me, Mom," Charlie ground out, hating how the pain had turned her words into a whine, though she somehow managed to lift a hand to wipe away the returning tears before her mother rounded the corner and entered the room with a worried frown and a startled exclamation at the precise same moment.

"Charlie? My God, sweetheart, what—what happened?"

"I was chasing after Justin, and I—I fell."

"Oh, sweetie," Camille hummed, moving forward to crouch down at her daughter's side, and reaching forward to brush a strand of brown hair away from her blue eyes, before redirecting her attention to Charlie's ankle, and noting that the slightest touch of her fingertips caused her daughter to flinch away in response, "Do you think you can let me take a look?"

"I—I think so."

"Okay then. I promise, this will only take a second."

Gritting her teeth as she watched her mother reach down to gently shift the hem of her jeans so that she could see the joint in question, Charlie squeezed her eyes shut and fought against the noise that had snaked its way up her throat in response to her mothers gently probing fingers, her fingernails digging into the tiling of the floor beneath her as she did her best to remain still. Just as her mother had promised, it did not take too long at all, though Charlie was hardly reassured when she cracked her eyes open once more, and registered the look of apparent concern upon her mother's face. But before she could manage to make any sort of inquiry of her own as to what had really happened when she fell, Charlie found herself silenced, her mother's hand coming to rest over her own as she turned her head over her shoulder and called out for her father, instead.

"Hank—get the car ready. Charlie needs to go to the hospital."

Before she could even blink, it seemed, Charlie had been loaded into the car with her father's help, her mother remaining close by her side while he went off in search of Justin not long thereafter. And although going to the hospital had been about the farthest thing from her mind, no matter what the true status of her ankle might be, she was at least grateful for the steady presence of her mother's hand in her own, the warmth of her brother's gangly frame on her opposite side grounding her when she thought that nothing else could.

Sandwiched between her mother and her brother, and with her father in the front seat, Charlie would have been a fool to pretend that she had not at least started to believe that everything just might be alright, after all.

…..

"Hey—hey, Charlie, come on, sweetheart, wake up," Adam pleaded, hardly aware of the pebbles digging into his shins as he crouched beside his sergeant's unconscious daughter, and tried to gently shake her awake. She had a pulse, thank God, and had not been hit by the shot he had used to disarm her would-be murderer for long enough to get him down on the ground and in cuffs. And although he kept darting backward glances at the man in question, in order to make sure that he did not make yet another error in judgment that ended with them both getting killed, the majority of Adam's attention was absolutely riveted upon the woman lying limp in his arms, one of his hands cradling her head while the other slapped gently at her cheek.

"Charlie—come on, you can do this. Wake up."

"M—Mom?"

"Oh, thank God—"

"Mom?" Charlie repeated, her brow furrowing as she inhaled a shaky breath, and forced her eyes open, only to recoil as she momentarily failed to recognize who was holding her in their arms, "Who—get away from me!"

"Hey, hey, easy, it's me. It's Adam!"

"I—what?"

"It's Adam. Ruzek. I—I stayed with you for a bit, at your dad's house?" Adam informed, holding both hands up in hopes that it would persuade the still frantic young woman before him that he was there as a friend, not a threat, "Or at least, I did 'til you ran out on me—"

"Right. I—sorry."

"No. No. Don't say you're sorry. I should have—I should have kept a closer eye on you."

"You mean you should have been a better babysitter?" Charlie clarified, wincing as the act of attempting to sit upright caused her head to pound, and lifting a hand to the slight abrasion on her temple where a piece of gravel had broken the skin, "Ouch."

"Okay—maybe don't do that," Adam replied, placing a hand upon Charlie's shoulder so that he could stand a chance at keeping her supine, "We need to get you checked out."

"No, I—I don't need a hospital."

"Actually, I think you do, if for no other reason than to make sure you didn't take too hard of a hit to your head."

"I didn't—I'm fine," Charlie pressed, once again trying to sit up, only to find that Adam was once again pressing gently at her shoulder to prevent her from doing exactly that, "Please, just—just let me go."

"Yeah, that's not going to happen."

"Why?"

"Because I, for one, am not about to tell your dad that I let you go again, when I wasn't even supposed to be out here to begin with."

"You—what are you talking about?"

"Your dad sent me back to HQ so that he could find you himself," Adam explained, risking yet another glance towards where the unconscious Mack was lying on his side, a bruise darkening the skin near his temple where the butt of a gun had collided with bone, "Seems to me I'm already in enough hot water as it is."

Stunned into silence at the confession, Charlie could do nothing save for avert her gaze as she struggled to comprehend the exact implication behind what Adam had just told her, her cheeks warming just a bit as she struggled to discern exactly what that might mean. She had not wanted anything like this to happen, of course, having never once expected that a complete stranger would have any reason at all to take the task of finding her so personally. But apparently, Adam had, whether because he felt some sense of responsibility for her disappearance in the first place, or some other reason entirely, she did not fully know. And although Charlie knew she should have been abundantly grateful that Adam had arrived when he had, she could not find it within herself to completely dismiss the unwavering sense of guilt over the risks he had taken to do so.

It was bad enough her father had rooked him into watching over her in the first place, and the idea of his apparent desire to continue seeing to her welfare when all that she wanted to do was slip quietly into the shadows was more stifling than Charlie believed she could take.

"Isn't that more—more of a reason to just let me go?" She inquired, forcing her eyes to meet Adam's once again, and using the suddenly perplexed expression that stole over his features as leave to sit as quickly as she could, and slide a few inches away before he could do a thing to stop it. She would have been blind not to see the disgruntled expression that Adam wore in response, though even that realization was not enough to truly persuade her to care. But even though she had honestly expected him to chastise her for the act, Charlie found that Adam appeared to be opting for a different tactic entirely, his brow furrowing for just a moment before he spoke.

"You can throw whatever you want at me, Charlie. I'm not letting you go."

Before she could say or do anything to contradict the obvious certainty inherent in Adam's tone, Charlie found herself distracted by the sound of the wail of a siren and tires crunching on gravel, her gaze snapping towards the source as a pit of dread cemented itself in her stomach. While a part of her—the childish part, admittedly—had craved her father's presence, when she faced death at the end of Mack's gun, a still greater part of her was honestly reluctant to see him now, when death was no longer in the cards.

But of course, when she wanted it the most, the choice of running away was apparently not an option.

Chewing at the inside of her cheek as the car rolled to a stop, and the sound of two slamming doors indicated her father's approach, and from the style of boots she could see as she kept her gaze rooted firmly to the ground, Erin's as well, Charlie shrank in on herself, as though every instinct she possessed was trying to prepare her for the worst…

"Care to tell me what the hell you're doing out here when I specifically remember sending you back to HQ?"

So, Adam was right…he really was in hot water, after all.

…

Against her better judgment, Charlie made the majority of the ambulance ride to Gaffney's in a stubborn silence, every fiber of her being poignantly aware of her father's presence beside her, whether she wanted him there or not. In spite of her fervent protests when it had just been her and dam, the young woman found that, as soon as her father had arrived, she was suddenly incapable of saying a word. And so, she had suddenly found herself being guided to the stretcher brought out by the two paramedics that had arrived on the scene, and subsequently loaded into the ambulance with her father following not long after, her gaze remaining riveted upon her hands where they rested in her lap since the doors had shut behind her, and they had started off towards the hospital not long thereafter.

To say anything other than that she was at a loss for how to even begin speaking to a man she had not felt any common ground with in years would have been the understatement of the century.

Still, Charlie could feel the tension in her body only growing as she remained aware of her father's gaze upon her, her fingers tracing idle patterns along the fabric of her jeans as she tried, multiple times, to simply force herself to speak. She wanted to thank him. To tell him she didn't need to go to the hospital at all. To plead with him to simply let her leave, again, before either one of them could say or do something they both knew they would regret. But the more time she spent sitting there, speechless, the more difficult it became to even know where to begin when it came to an attempt at conversation, a faint huff escaping before Charlie could fully stop it as she wet her lips with her tongue, and tilted her head to the side to crack her neck, only to find a wince brought about as a result when the act renewed the throbbing of her head that she had thought had gone away.

"You okay?"

"Just peachy. How about you?"

"I'm being serious, Charlie," Voight pressed, his expression curiously neutral, despite the obvious frustration that made its way into his words whether he wanted it to or not, "Are you okay?"

"What is it that you really expect to hear, Dad? I'm not—I can't even begin to figure out how I feel, right now."

"Then just say that."

"Does that mean you'll actually accept it as an answer?" Charlie quipped, forcing herself to look her father in the eye, and somehow summoning the wherewithal to avoid allowing a flinch to break free upon realizing the unbreakable determination that was so inherent in his familiar brown eyes. She knew, of course, that taunting him after everything that had just transpired was perhaps the farthest thing from wise, given that the majority of the tension that existed between them was precisely on account of their matching reluctance to showcase any sort of emotion beyond ire on the surface of any interaction they took part in. But of course that knowledge was not entirely enough to sway her from her apparent preference for hostility, her blue eyes narrowing as she regarded her father for one final beat of silence, before deciding to speak once again.

"I suppose I can take your silence as a no."

"Then you would be wrong."

"There's a surprise."

"When does this end, for us, Charlie?" Voight cut in, aware of how his daughter had once again decided to look away from his attentive gaze, and yet not allowing that fact to deter him in the slightest as he pressed on, "When do we stop all this dancing around and figure out how to move forward?"

"And here I thought we were having so much fun."

"Charlie—"

"What, Dad? What do you want me to say, here? What would make you feel better?"

"That's not what this is about."

"Then what is it about?" Charlie demanded, hating the way her voice cracked around the words, though for her father's part, he seemed inclined not to notice, "Because I'm honestly at a loss for figuring it out, myself."

"Maybe we can help each other out with that."

"Really."

"Yeah. Really," Voight confirmed, leaning forward to place both elbows upon his knees, and threading his fingers together tightly before going on, "I'm not letting you go again, Charlie."

"Seems like maybe that's not really your call."

"I think it is. You're coming home with me tonight, kid. Whether you like it or not."

"Am I going there in cuffs?" Charlie questioned, one brow cocked in obvious skepticism over her father's intentions, even though she knew just from the look on his face that the inquiry was hardly appreciated, "Because if I am, I'm not sure I'm down for that."

"You're coming of your own free will. But you are coming home. End of story."

"Right. Well, if you say so—"

"I do say so," Voight declared, his expression obviously daring Charlie to make any attempt at talking her way out of things, though surprisingly enough, he found she remained silent, even in spite of the tense set of her jaw, "You need your family, Charlie."

"And you're gonna give me that? Family?"

"I'm sure as hell gonna try."

Emitting a huff as she realized she was not likely to get anywhere with her father at the moment, and that she was not exactly in a position to get away from him at the moment, Charlie leaned back against the stretcher, and stared at the ceiling of the ambulance as they slowed to a stop, and she felt the distinctive shudder of the vehicle being thrown in park, signifying they had arrived at the hospital at last. A brief glance towards her father showed her that he had likely come to the same conclusion, his posture shifting to indicate that he was prepared to hop out of the doors as soon as they had opened. And although Charlie would have been a fool to pretend she was looking forward to the journey into the hospital, and the prospect of being under the scrutiny of who knew how many medical professionals until they realized what she already knew—that she was fine—the young woman braced herself for the encounter anyway, her jaw locking together as the blonde woman who had been driving the ambulance opened the doors, and stepped inside to assist her partner in getting theit patient out…

Her father may try to stop her, but Charlie was all but determined to ensure the first chance she had, she would be gone for good.

…

Hello again, my angels! And welcome to yet another chapter in Charlie's tale! I'm not too sure what prompted this one, seeing as I had initially intended to write for one of my other stories. But, regardless of how I seem to have undergone an unexpected shift in inspiration, I do hope that you all enjoy the end result. After all, the fun is only just beginning!

As always, my heartfelt thanks go out to each and every one of you that has taken the time to read, follow, favorite and review this story so far! Special thanks go out to last chapter's reviewers: ChiTown4ever, Long Live BRUCAS, and Guest, this means you! I truly do appreciate your kind words of encouragement and support, and I can only hope you enjoy this chapter every bit as much as you appear to have enjoyed the last!

Until next time, loves…

MOMM