Charlie had been crawling out of her skin after the transition from the ambulance to one of the treatment bays in the busy emergency room at Gaffney's, the fingers of her free hand that was not hooked up to the IV drumming a frantic pattern on the fabric of her jeans, while her other hand lifted in odd intervals to shove wayward strands of her hair behind an ear. Her father had stepped out to speak to another one of his detectives that she did not recognize, his eyes darting back towards her where she rested behind the partially closed sliding door on occasion as though he was determined that if he looked away for too long, she might disappear. In truth, she was itching to do exactly that, though she knew she would not stand a chance with him standing guard without giving any sign of stepping any farther from her than he already had.

She would have to wait, it seemed, until he either tired of waiting around the hospital for the doctor to clear her and confirm that there was no risk for concussion, or do something to get herself away as soon as they made it back to his home.

She would not call it her home. She couldn't.

That house hadn't been home since the day her mom died.

Gritting her teeth as the mere thought of her mother brought an almost immediate stinging sensation to the backs of her eyes, Charlie shifted minutely on the thin mattress of the hospital bed, a wince passing over her features as the movement tugged at the IV line, and caused it to pull against her skin. Truthfully, she highly doubted she needed fluids, as all the bag running into her vein seemed to have done was render her stuck with an almost uncomfortably full bladder. But given the stern, yet not unkind insistence of the nurse who had set her up with the line to begin with, Charlie had felt it better not to protest, opting instead for simply chewing at the inside of her cheek until the woman had left, and she had been alone in the room with her father once again.

Not long after that, the detective he was chatting with now had appeared, knocking on the door and gesturing with his head towards the hallway just outside of her room, and in spite of the fact that Charlie felt more than a little aggravated at how even the newcomer seemed to regard her with a wary sort of interest, she found she could ignore him just as easily as she had ignored her father, her teeth digging into her lower lip as she leaned back against the pillow situated behind her, and stared up at the ceiling, instead.

In the back of her mind, thoughts of exactly what was going to happen to her now began to take hold, creeping forward and overwhelming all other thoughts as though they were a noxious weed consuming a garden left untended. Regardless of how much she may have wanted to believe she could return home with her father, and pick up the pieces of her life as though nothing had ever happened, Charlie knew very well that the tenuous truce that seemed to exist between them now was not going to last for very long. And it was that thought alone that had her all but determined to get out while she still could, no matter how it terrified her that she had not a clue where she would go, or what she would do to make ends meet, next.

She had not gone to college, having decided to postpone her studies to help take care of her mom, instead, during her chemotherapy treatments, and in the aftermath as the medications that eventually killed her took their toll. And since most employers that would hire someone with her limited educational background did not pay enough to completely cover the bills she might incur, and wouldn't be too likely to appreciate the job description regarding what she did for Mack, that left her with very little to turn to on the legal side of things to make a living for herself if she did, in fact, succeed in getting away from a place that seemed determined to bring her more pain than anything else.

"Why did you have to leave us, Mom?"

"I'm sorry—what was that?"

"Oh. Ah—nothing," Charlie stammered, her cheeks heating almost instantaneously in response to the unexpected voice that broke into her thoughts, blue eyes snapping towards the partially opened door of her room, and lighting upon a dark-haired woman wearing a white coat, and magenta-colored scrubs, "Sorry, I was just—I was just talking to myself."

"I understand. Sometimes you need expert advice."

"Yeah, something—something like that."

"How are you feeling?" The woman inquired, glancing down at the tablet she held in her hand for only a moment, before her gaze was riveted to Charlie's frame once again, "Charlotte, right?"

"Charlie."

"Charlie. Any lingering pain? Headache, or blurred vision?"

"No. No, I'm all good," Charlie replied, allowing the woman to step close enough to get a better look, and doing her best to force her muscles to remain relaxed in spite of the apprehension she felt over a stranger invading her personal space, "Other than whatever fluids you're giving me killing my bladder."

"Sorry about that. If you want, as soon as I'm done, we'll see what we can do about getting you up and into the bathroom."

"Yeah, that—that would be great."

"Then we have a deal," The woman grinned, reaching into her pocket and withdrawing a pen light to extend towards Charlie's eyes, "Do me a favor, and follow the light with your eyes, Charlie."

Managing a nod before she did as she had been told, Charlie tracked the little light with her eyes, all the while hoping beyond hope that nothing would be amiss, and she would not be forced to stay. Hospitals had never been her favorite—not even before her mother had passed. But now, with just her father standing guard at her doorway, watching the entire interaction between herself, and the doctor with his hands jammed inside his jeans' pockets, Charlie felt that if she stayed in the emergency department for much longer, she would descend into full-blown panic—

And that was yet another thing about her that made her weak.

Voights were not weak.

"Looks good," The doctor informed, her words once again diverting Charlie from her internal musings, and giving her reason to meet her gaze, head-on, as she stowed the pen light back inside her pocket, and glanced towards the monitor beside the bed to check Charlie's vitals, as well, "BP is great, as well. I am a little worried about that pulse. One twenty is a bit too high for a resting heartrate. Are you in any pain?"

"Only a little," Charlie admitted, glancing down at her hands where they rested in her lap, and frowning a bit before going on, "And then there's the whole hospital thing."

"Hospital thing?"

"They make her nervous," Voight spoke up, stepping just a bit further into the room, and regarding his daughter with an unreadable expression that caused Charlie's brow to furrow while he chose to elaborate further, "Always have."

"Makes sense. Most people don't like them," The doctor acknowledged, offering a smile for Voight's benefit, before returning her attention to her patient, once again, "Any tightness in your chest? Shortness of breath?"

"No."

"You're sure? Because I have a pretty good instinct hanging around that tells me when patients aren't telling me the whole story."

"I'm positive," Charlie assured, forcing herself to ignore her father's presence entirely, in favor of glancing down at the name embroidered on the pristine white fabric of the woman's jacket, "I'm fine, Doctor Manning. Just a little on edge."

"Okay. I can accept that for now, as long as you promise me you'll tell me if something changes."

"I'm not—I can't go home now?"

"Not yet. We need to run a few more tests, first. Just to make sure when you fell, you didn't do any unseen damage," Doctor Manning said, aware of the obvious frown that took over her patient's features, and doing her best to keep her tone light and reassuring, even in spite of it, "I promise, we'll get you out of here as soon as we can."

"That sounds—fair," Charlie conceded, leaning back against the pillows once again as Doctor Manning glanced towards her father, her hands slipping inside of her pockets as she used the same reassuring tone she had used on his daughter, on him as well.

"I have every reason to believe she's going to be fine, Hank. We're just covering all our bases."

"Fine by me."

"I'll send someone in to see about getting you to the bathroom, then," Doctor Manning went on, offering Charlie one final smile, and lingering in the doorway with one hand upon the glass for just long enough to finish speaking, "And as soon as I'm done discharging my other patient, I'll be back to run those tests."

"Okay. Thanks, Doc," Voight began, nodding toward the brunette's retreating frame, and then turning back towards Charlie to take a seat upon the plastic chair near the bed, "You need to tell her the truth, Charlie."

"I did."

"Only about what you wanted her to know."

"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I think you know exactly what it means."

"Well, that's news to me," Charlie scoffed, once again falling to the task of picking at the blanket that covered her legs, and emitting a sigh that was far louder than she had truly wished it to be before going on, "You're getting pretty good if you know how I'm feeling better than I do."

"I'm talking about what the hell that asshole did to you while you were with him," Voight clarified, aware of the way his daughter almost automatically seemed to flinch, though she did her best to rectify that act as best she could by resettling her features into a mask of neutral indifference, instead, "My money is on him putting you through hell long before we caught up to him."

"Then you're going to be losing your money."

"I'm not so sure that I will. You need to talk to someone, Charlie."

"What, like a shrink?"

"Someone who can help you. I think we both know that's not me, right now."

"Then why are you insisting on taking me home?" Charlie demanded, forcing herself to look her father in the eye, despite the uncertainty and guilt that twisted in her stomach in response, "Why not just let me get out of your hair and be done with it?"

"Because we're family. That's not what we do. Especially when one of us is in trouble."

"What about Justin, Dad? He was in trouble, and now he's in jail."

"That's different," Voight countered, noting the obvious roll of the eyes Charlie gave in response to his assertion, and yet choosing to ignore it in favor of going on, "I did what I could to help Justin, but I couldn't make it all go away."

"And you think you can, with this?"

"I'm sure as hell gonna try."

Clamping her mouth shut in hopes that it would help her to avoid giving in to the lingering bitterness inherent in her feelings towards what had happened to her older brother, Charlie shifted her gaze to look at the railing of her bed as though it were the most fascinating thing in the world. Once again, she could feel the sting of tears in her eyes, her nails digging into the palms of her hands as she attempted to keep them at bay as long as she could. She could not cry in front of her father. She would not. Not when it would give him every reason to believe that she was still the same helpless little girl that she had always been. He had never criticized her outright for wearing her emotions on her sleeve, or for failing to maintain her composure whenever she was hurt, growing up. But somehow, the nagging thought that he wanted to had always been there, especially after her mother died, and that was enough to make Charlie absolutely determined to avoid showing even the faintest flickers of emotion at all, until he had left the room, and she was on her own once again.

She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing that maybe she truly did need his protection more than she wanted to admit.

With that thought in mind, Charlie had settled herself into the idea of simply remaining silent for the remainder of her stay in the hospital's emergency department, her lips thinning into a line as she crossed her arms over her chest, and attempted to regulate her breathing. She certainly did not want her heartrate to be any part of the reason why she could not get out of this place sooner, rather than later. And so, she once again allowed her head to lean back against the pillows, her eyes drifting closed as she forced herself to ignore the fact that her father was even there.

Of course, that only lasted about two seconds, seeing as Doctor Manning had apparently followed through on her promise to send someone to help Charlie to the bathroom, the soft tapping on the sliding glass door of her room drawing her gaze towards the young woman who hovered nearby, a tentative smile upon her lips as she looked from Voight, to her intended patient before she spoke.

"Doctor Manning sent me? You ready to try and get up?"

"Beyond ready," Charlie confirmed, carefully avoiding a glance in her father's direction as she threw back the blanket covering her legs, and swung her feet over the edge of the bed to rest them firmly upon the ground, "I just—you don't need to stop what you're doing to help."

"I'm happy to. Part of the job description," The young woman promised, her smile only growing as she stepped around the foot of the bed, and reached forward to place an arm underneath Charlie's to steady her as she rose to stand, with one hand on the IV pole. Together, they maneuvered around the bed, and towards the open doorway, Charlie's pace clearly proving a little surprising to her companion, though she did not bother to slow down…

Even the smallest prospect of some time to herself, so to speak, was far more comforting than lingering in the room with her father eyeing her every move, and Charlie was damned if she didn't take advantage of that fact while she could.

…

While Charlie was otherwise occupied, Hank Voight took the liberty of standing from the chair, and heading towards the doors that would lead to the ambulance bay, one hand digging into his back pocket for his cell phone as he went. Within seconds, he had dialed the number he had memorized almost from the first moment she had moved into his home, the phone soon tucked against his ear as he listened to it ring once—twice—three times, until a familiar voice echoed from the other end of the line, and he simultaneously moved through the double doors of the emergency department's exit to stand in the chilly night air.

"How is she?"

"She's fine, Erin. They're running more tests to rule out concussion, but according to Manning, it seems unlikely."

"Oh, thank God," Erin breathed, her relief apparent despite the fact that Hank could not see her face to determine such a thing first-hand, "She coming home?"

"She's not going to have much of a choice."

"Are you sure that's the best thing to do? She could always stay at my place, for a bit."

"I want to keep her with me," Hank demurred, knowing that Erin was likely about to protest that decision, and moving to prevent such a thing from deterring him in the effort to divert the conversation towards what he truly wished to discuss, "At least for now. We need to know if this guy has any other friends that may come after her."

"So, you think she'll have to testify."

"I'm gonna do whatever I can to make sure that doesn't happen."

"We can't just let this guy back out on the streets, Hank—"

"And we won't," The sergeant pressed, knowing full well exactly what could happen to his daughter if she were labeled a rat, and grinding his teeth together at the thought of how far he already knew he was willing to go to ensure that did not happen, "Tell me where we are with our mutual friend."

"Jay's in with him now," Erin replied, her tone hesitant, for a moment, as though she might not want to be fully forthcoming, given Hank's apparent mood, "So far, he's not given us anything to go on, aside from demanding a lawyer."

"Tell Halstead to put him in the cage."

"Hank—"

"The cage, Erin. Now," Hank repeated, running a hand over tired features, and turning back to glance inside the hospital doors before going on, "Have Ruzek and Atwater meet me outside the ED, to take Charlie home. I'm coming in."

"You really want to leave her on her own right now?" Lindsay asked, disbelief apparent in her tone, just as Hank had expected, though that was not entirely enough to sway him from his decision, either way, "Isn't that sort of what got us all into this mess to start with?"

"She won't be on her own for long. I'm not planning on staying with this prick all night."

"What are you going to do?"

"Nothing that you need to concern yourself about," Hank said, aware of the faint scoff Erin gave in response, and yet still refusing to give in to her apparent need for full disclosure of his intentions, such as they were, pertaining to the man Ruzek had arrested earlier that day, "Just tell Halstead what I need him to do, and I'll take care of the rest when I get there."

"Tell Charlie I'll stop by some time tomorrow," Erin stated, the determination in her words giving Hank at least some modicum of hope that perhaps they could bring his daughter back from the brink of whatever hell that Mack had dragged her to, "See you in a bit."

"Yeah."

Disconnecting the call, and heading back in through the doors, and towards Charlie's room just as he caught sight of the nurse escorting her back to her bed, Voight stowed his phone back in his pants pocket, and moved to follow them, noting the slight wince that Charlie gave as she moved to lift her legs back onto the bed, despite the fact that it was readily apparent she wanted to play it off as though the expression had never once appeared upon her face. Just the sight of it was enough to have his teeth grinding together once again, his gaze steely, to say the least as he momentarily allowed his mind to stray over all of the worst possible things Mack could have done to her to make her feel as though she had no way out. But before those thoughts could deter him from keeping an eye on her until Ruzek and Atwater arrived to take over, Voight forced himself to focus upon the present moment, instead, resuming his place in the seat beside Charlie's bed while she settled back beneath the blankets, and pointedly avoided his gaze.

From the way she held herself, as though expecting an assault at any moment, Hank knew making Mack pay for what he had done would be nowhere near enough to assuage his own guilt over allowing his daughter to slip through his fingers, time and time again…

…

Hello there, my dears! And welcome to another new chapter in Charlie's tale! I have to say, I initially intended to start this one with Charlie already back at home, but apparently the muses had other ideas, and wanted to bring in Natalie, and keep Charlie at Med for a bit, instead. Hopefully that decision isn't entirely disappointing? Because I promise, I do have plans for our girl once she gets back home. The road to reconciliation won't be an easy one (after all, it wouldn't be one of my stories, if it wasn't chuck full of angst, right?)

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 as well: alkadrilayal, Long Live BRUCAS, and ChiTown4ever for leaving such encouraging words of support last time around! I am so very grateful for your feedback, and of course I can only hope you enjoy this chapter every bit as much as you appear to have enjoyed the last!

Until next time, angels…

MOMM