Hey there. Long time no update. I'm so sorry to leave you guys hanging for so long. Real life had me in a strait jacket in the past weeks... or at least that's what it feels like.

This chapter is a bit on the shorter side. There was supposed to be a lot more in it, but the second half of it was getting longer and longer, so I decided to split it. On the bright side, the next chapter is about halfway done, so it hopefully shouldn't take me as long to get it up as this one.

Huge shoutout to Floopdeedoopdee for her unwavering support and limitless advice.

Without further ado, enjoy.

Olinsky leaned against the door frame of the breakroom, legs crossed at the ankles and hat pulled down into his face enough to cast a shadow over most of his features, thereby allowing him to observe the rest of the unit. Casually peeling an orange, he watched as they all gathered around Antonio's desk to quietly talk and laugh in between bites of their late brunch. After being woken up in the wee hours of the morning, this was the first time today that they got a break from tracking down leads, interviewing witnesses, and interrogating potential suspects, so the breather was long overdue and well-deserved.

Nevertheless, as Al listened to the easy-going banter and analysis of the results of some random game – he tuned out the details for he didn't bother or care about whatever sports they were discussing – as well as a night in Molly's two days ago, he felt a gnawing pang of sadness and disappointment that none of them stopped to even mention the name of the one detective that was absent from the bullpen right now. O was still reeling from the events of the morning, their blatant disregard and lack of support of a team member who was very obviously injured and in a lot of pain. It irked him tremendously how unconcerned they all seemed to be about Jay, even more so because this was the second instance in as many weeks that he bore witness to it, and at this point he wondered if there had been other times before that he had missed.

The seasoned detective wouldn't blame anyone for not daring to speak up in front of Voight, especially when the latter was in as terrible a mood as he had been all morning. In a way, he could understand that they didn't want to get in the crossfire and by that on the sergeant's bad side. Their boss could be admittedly scary and unpredictable at times. No, he didn't hold that against them at all. But even if they didn't jump to Halstead's defense, they should at the very least have shown some compassion and been worried about the kid.

And yet, as much as he wanted to be angry with all of them on Jay's behalf, he knew if he wanted to get the problem resolved, he wouldn't accomplish that by laying into any of them. They were only the budding flowers on the surface of the issue, after all. The root of it was the terrible role-modeling the Intelligence leader exemplified by shunning the kid and unjustly tearing him a new one out in the open. But Olinsky wasn't going to stand by and allow that a second time. Not when they all, him included, had dropped the ball on Halstead so cruelly just a couple weeks ago without ever giving him the benefit of the doubt. The former ranger didn't deserve any of it then, and he certainly didn't deserve it now either. Instead, he deserved someone on his side, someone who stood up for him, and since no one else seemed keen on doing it, it would have to be him.

Decision made, O pushed himself away from the door frame and meandered in the direction of Voight's office, casually chancing a glance as he detoured to the closest waste bin to throw away his orange peel. The man was reading a file while simultaneously sipping on his coffee but didn't appear to be immersed in anything important right now. It was the moment Alvin had been waiting for all morning and he wasn't going to dally away at the opportunity to call his long-time partner out on his poor and downright disrespectful treatment of their youngest detective.

Swallowing the last bites of his orange, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and his palms on his pants before confidently striding into the small quarters. He closed the door behind him, the soft thud and click enough to alert Hank to his presence. "What was that this morning?" he asked without preamble, not even waiting for his superior to address him, and gracefully moved to the leather couch across from the desk.

Voight put down his mug and the file he was reading, then slouched back in his swivel chair in a fake relaxed position, elbows perched on the arm rests and hands loosely clasped in front of his chest. Slightly raising his eyebrows at his friend, he stared at him unblinking, his expression mostly neutral with just a smidgen of arrogance peppered into his features. It was apparent in his non-reaction that he had been expecting and likely preparing for this confrontation. "What was what?" he retorted bluntly, feigning ignorance and nonchalance, a slight forward dip of his thumbs demanding the seasoned detective to elaborate on what he was referring to.

Olinsky wasn't fooled by the antics, though. They had known each other for nearly twenty years, and in that time, he'd seen the other man conduct countless interrogations, using all kinds of interview techniques. He knew Hank's preferred methods by heart, could read both his body language and his tone of voice like an open book, and something both were decidedly vacant of right now were confusion and surprise at his question. "You know exactly what I'm talking about," he challenged evenly, not even a little bit intimidated by Voight's domineering posture. The sergeant puckered his lips in a hint of amusement and shrugged his shoulders in reply, gaze piercing. Al held it steadily and continued just as calmly, "the way you insulted and attacked Halstead in front of the entire unit? That was uncalled for. You were way out of line."

"No, I wasn't," Hank begged to differ without missing a beat, his gravelly voice slightly strained. There was a stir of emotion recognizable on his facial features as well, a furrow of scorn and fury adorning his forehead. "Since day one, Halstead's been nothing but a cocky and brash blowhard who is incapable of or unwilling to follow even the simplest of orders. So far, he's done nothing but use Intelligence to go on his own personal vendettas. He managed to get himself and thereby this entire unit flagged by the brass, and he's earned himself restraining orders against him because he can't control his anger over some random kid that died years ago."

The dark-haired detective cocked his eyebrows and tilted his head both in shock and disbelief over how insensitive and dismissive his partner was towards the younger officer and his situation, thus giving him a hard look to let him know he was full of shit. But the sergeant ignored it and merely went on with his lengthy rant, the frown on his face more and more inflamed with resentment and disgust. "And what came out of his feud? He's gotten himself accused of murder just over a week ago. Don't tell me you forgot that already?"

Fed up with Voight's unbearable self-righteousness, Al could no longer remain silent. He shook his head and huffed an irritated breath. "No, Hank. I didn't forget that the kid was wrongfully accused of murdering a pedophile. But I believe you are the one who forgot that he was cleared of all charges less than twenty-four hours later, no thanks to you or anyone else on the team for that matter. He was cleared for one reason and one reason only: because he sank his teeth in and solved this case. He was cleared because he figured out who the real murderer was by doing good and thorough police work. Single-handedly, I might add," he trounced his superior, pointing his index finger at the older man, repeatedly stabbing the air with it. He adduced his arguments as objective as possible but was unable to keep the chagrin out of his voice as he concluded, "you denied him every grain of support. You were ready to throw him to the wolves, Hank. Why?"

While he didn't expect a straight-forward answer, Al was still saddened to see the disdainful flare of Voight's nostrils, a sign of how unfazed the older man seemed by his tirade. Quelling a sigh, he inquired quietly, "did you stop and think about why Jay followed Lonnie Rodiger? Aside from the obvious reasons that a pedophile got away with raping and killing a child the first time around? That Jay had a reason, a very good one at that, to believe that the pervert was looking for his next prey? That the pedophile was ready to rape and kill yet another innocent child? You knew all that, didn't you? Jay told you in no unmistakable words." The seasoned detective shook his head in sadness. "And yet, you didn't help him when you could have helped him pursue this in a proper, lawful manner."

At this point, the sergeant was visibly seething, grinding his teeth, jaw muscles twitching slightly, lips pressed into a thin line. His eyes were narrowed to slits and his breathing was heavy and harsh as he eventually spoke. "I told him to stand down. I told him to let homicide handle it but he didn't listen. He couldn't even follow the simplest of orders," he gritted out to defend his decisions and attitude towards the former ranger. "Halstead's a liability, he proved that time and again over the past weeks. Hell, he proved it just this morning when he decided not to show up to a crime scene he got called to. And then he exaggerated minor injuries to try and cover up just how much of a slacker he is. Because he can't handle the consequences of his insubordination," he roared, volume progressively rising with every word he spat.

"He wasn't exaggerating –"

Voight curled the corner of his mouth in an unamused and incredulous smirk, one that suggested he considered his friend a fool for being so gullible to actually believe that but otherwise ignored Olinsky's interruption. "I don't need people like that on my team, Al. I need people who follow orders, people willing to put in the hours and the hard work. Not just when it's convenient for them or serves them in one way or another but every time there's a case, no matter what hour of the day it is. Halstead's clearly not interested in any of that," he fumed, his face beet red with anger and the vein on his temple pulsing in sync with his spats. "He doesn't belong here. He never did. I should never have allowed him on the team. He's a disgr–"

Olinsky held up a hand, effectively stopping him right there. "You better not finish that sentence, Hank," he warned in a dangerously low tone. It was the eerie yet thunderous kind of calm that was so much more deafening than any raised voice ever could. "Jay is not a disgrace. Far from it, actually." Pushing himself up from the couch, Al merged closer to the desk and pulled out one of the office chairs to sit down across from Voight who merely arched an eyebrow at him, his mien a stony, unemotional wall. "The kid is working harder than anyone else in the unit. He's working his ass off trying to prove his worth, to prove that he deserves his spot on the team, and he's doing it every single hour of the day, even going so far as to come in early and leave late. Despite or maybe because you are making it ten times more difficult for him than anyone else here."

Disagreeing with the assessment, the sergeant shook his head and barked a humorless laugh. O gave him a hard, disapproving look. "You do. You're setting the expectations for him so high they are near impossible to reach, and whenever he does reach them, you're twisting and tweaking them last second just to spite him. You're setting him up to fail." Another huff passed Voight's lips. Stifling a frustrated sigh, Alvin was unable to keep the scorn from creeping into his voice as he continued. "It's not fair on the kid. It's humiliating and degrading, even more so because you're doing it right in front of the whole unit, thereby legitimizing that kind of behavior for the rest of them. You're basically inviting them to follow your example and treat him the same way you do."

Pulling his chair closer to the desk, Olinsky glanced up at his long-time partner with an appraising gaze, his eyes piercing but not unkind. Voight stared right back, his mask of indifference still firmly in place as he raised his brows a fraction once more. "Are you trying to lecture me on how to run my team now, Al?" he asked, voice strained with barely concealed anger. "Because last time I checked I'm the one in charge of Intelligence, not you." O wisely decided not to answer that, aware that the question was of a rhetorical nature. "Al, you know I appreciate your input and advice any day, but I didn't ask for your opinion on this matter."

Alvin nodded slowly in contemplation and frowned in frustration. "Yeah," he muttered, dragging a hand through the scruff on his face and down his chin. "Yeah, you made that abundantly clear. To Halstead and everyone else here, but especially to him. What I don't understand is, why? What did the kid ever do to you that you're treating him so poorly? Why do you apply different standards when it comes to him? Do you hate him that much?" the dark-haired detective asked, genuinely interested in the answer, but received no reaction from his partner. Leaning forward to perch his elbows on his knees, he looked up at the sergeant with a furrowed brow, upping the ante. "Or do you feel threatened by him?"

It was an innocuous question, asked in a calm and quiet manner, and Olinsky didn't really expect Voight to reply to it any more than he had to any of the preceding queries. But watching the Intelligence leader closely, he couldn't help but notice the minuscule shift in his posture, the stiffening of his shoulders, the puckered lips, the fluttering of his eyelids. A flash of insecurity and discomfort so fleeting and unlike Hank that Al briefly wondered if it had just been a figment of his imagination. But the repeated twitches of his friend's facial muscles and the way he sat up a bit straighter told him otherwise. "Oh," the veteran exclaimed in realization, cocking his eyebrows in surprise. "You do feel threatened by him, don't you?" O shook his head, chuckling softly at the unexpected turn of events.

Locking eyes with his superior once more, the latter shooting daggers at him, Al sobered up. "Damn it, Hank, we've been partners for what? Nineteen years now? You're the best cop I've ever known. No one cares about this city and the safety of its residents more than you do and I don't know anyone who's ever been fit to hold a candle to you and your perseverance on the job." He paused, slanting his head, his eyes softening, the corner of his mouth lifting ever so slightly. "Except maybe that kid. And the fact that you feel threatened by Halstead–" Voight snorted, trying to deny the truth in that statement, but Al was long past being fooled. "– is saying a lot about you and how you see him. Ya, Hank, he is that good, and I think you know that. So instead of trying to quash his natural talent, why not try to nurture it? The kid's an asset to the team. There's room for you both." The Intelligence leader grunted in condemnation, clearly not willing to admit the truth in that.

"Christ," Olinsky cursed under his breath, pushing himself to sit up straighter with his hands on his knees. "You were willing to let a pedophile remain on the prowl because you feel intimidated by the kid?" The words were full of keen disappointment and Alvin was aware of how harsh they sounded, but Voight needed to hear the unvarnished truth to get it through that thick skull of his that he had screwed up terribly. Judging by the smidgen of embarrassment and discomfort crossing over the sergeant's features, the seasoned detective knew he'd hit a nerve. However, there was still more to be said, so he didn't allow himself to feel victorious yet.

"This isn't you, Hank," he continued after staring at his stubborn friend a bit longer. "Putting innocent lives at jeopardy over some wicked power play isn't like you, at all. And I'm sure if it had been you or anyone else on this team, you wouldn't have hesitated to snatch this case from homicide and made it yours. You would have moved heaven and earth to nail the son of a bitch, and you wouldn't have stopped to ask anyone's permission to pursue this case. You would have done whatever was necessary to bring him down," he reasoned, pausing again to allow the words to sink in before he went for the finale. "Hell, it's not like we haven't done this before. In fact, we have done much worse, crossed lines that we shouldn't have. So, stop being so sanctimonious."

For a minute, Voight remained as stoic as ever and Al was convinced his sermon had been for naught. O sighed in sadness and frustration, ready to surrender at this point. If he didn't get through to the stubborn mule of a man, no one would. However, just as he was about to admit defeat, something shifted in the sergeant's demeanor, his chest deflating with a lengthy exhale, brows dipping as lowered his gaze to obstinately hide the flicker of emotions – shame, regret, maybe even guilt – from his friend's observant eyes.

The dark-haired detective caught it nonetheless and felt strangely smug and self-satisfied that he'd been the one to put it there. That he'd managed to make his long-time partner realize his wounded pride not just resulted in him treating one of the most promising young talents on the force like trash but also clouded his judgment to a point of putting lives in danger. And while he didn't expect Hank to admit any of that out loud, seeing the tiny cracks in the sergeant's façade was enough of a tacit acknowledgement for now.

Hope you liked it despite the lack of Jay in this one. Let me know what you think.