Halstead doublechecks the text message sent to his phone, zeroing his eyes in on the apartment number as he walks out of the elevator. Left or right, the number of her apartment falls between the range that would have him going right so he shifts direction, memorizing the three-digit number before pocketing his phone, sliding it into the pocket of his leather jacket. It's been four hours since he got the call, since he was ordered to come in, debriefed about the situation and given a new work assignment, accompany their new witness to a safe house in Hamilton, Montana.
It's a simple task. It's a boring one too. It'll take him out of the action that drew him to join federal law enforcement in the first place. His new job, -temporary babysitter. At least the pay is the same.
Jay knocks at her apartment door, three knocks in one-minute intervals until Ben looks through the peephole and unlocks the door. He had four hours to accept his new job assignment, read the details of the trip, pack his bags, catch a lift to her apartment and transfer his bags from the trunk of the cab to the back of the unmarked truck. He steps inside after greeting Ben, giving the typical pleasantries, asking about the man's kids and patting his back before the door is shut and locked behind him. He doesn't get a chance to get the rundown from Ben because by the time he asks for any updates he may have missed in his trip over, Hank Voight, the father of their witness is currently in his face, warning him to watch after his daughter, "If you're the agent that is assigned to protect her, you better do just that. Nothing bad better happen to her."
"Your daughter will be safe with me," he attempts to reassure the intimidating sergeant but Voight seems unphased by his placating words, "she's in the best hands."
"Your words mean absolutely nothing to me, agent. I want to see action because those speak much louder. Action, nothing more, nothing less. I mean that. Not a hair on her head better be out of place when she returns," Voight takes a step back, clearing Halstead's path before shouting, "Erin!" He looks over his shoulder, in the direction of a closed door that Jay assumes is her bedroom, "your ride is here!"
"Okay, give me a second!" She hollers back.
"She needs a second," Voight repeats to the agent as if he didn't hear her himself. Jay is pretty early; he can give her that second. He uses it to his advantage anyway, taking in Hank Voight, the infamous sergeant he's heard about time and time again yet never had the chance to meet his acquaintance. He will admit though, his reputation precedes him. And that's not a good thing.
Halstead moves to hang by the entrance with Ben, leaning his back against the door, arms crossed over his chest as the two of them wait for their witness. It sounds a bit detached but he hardly knows the woman and this job has really made him a bit rough around the edges, a little disconnected from society and estranged from all of his current relationships -dad and brother- and it leaves him no time for any type of romantic relationship. He's married to his job. It's been that way since he graduated from the training academy in Quantico. And as far as he knows it, it'll always be that way unless he wants to end up divorced like majority of the other agents.
"How long is the flight?"
"…almost three hours," Jay answers; his gaze remained focused on Voight, watching him pace outside of Erin's bedroom door. He's a concerned father, Halstead couldn't fault him for that. He's anxious, worried and of all the mentions and whisperings about Hank Voight through the city of Chicago, he never pegged the guy to care about someone more than he did himself. The sergeant is close to pacing a hole in the floor and Jay's pretty surprised how long he was able to hold himself back before finally relenting and knocking on the door.
She'd been in her bedroom, sitting on her bed, enjoying the solitude as the minutes counted down.
She knew a knock was inevitably going to come. This wasn't a dream. This was very real. And even though when she came home, moving in a zombie-like fashion as she changed her clothes, packed her bags that are now by her bedroom door, she found her mind clearing itself of the hazy fog when her eyes landed upon a framed photo situated beside the lamp on her dresser. It's of the family; it's of her, Camille, Hank and Justin and it was the last photo all of them had taken together before the car accident during her senior year of high school, the day right before graduation.
Erin had spent her graduation in a hospital bed, sobbing over the loss of her brother while her mother fought for her life in the ICU. Her mother died that same night. Voight was discharged two days later. And she'd been released a week after that. She brings the photo to her chest, holding it as close to her body as she's physically able in hopes that maybe it'll help her build up the courage to leave, to walk out that door and catch whatever flight they have booked.
Erin lays the photo facedown beside her when she hears the light tap of her dad's knuckle against the door. She looks up, planting a fake smile on her face when he lets himself in, "I thought when I moved out and started paying my own rent that I'd have a little more privacy," she jokes.
"In my defense," he steps inside and gently shuts the door behind him, "I did knock."
"I'm almost ready, dad. I'm just going over the list in my head making sure I got everything."
He waves off her concern, he wasn't here to rush her, he was here to check up on her, "No rush. The other agent is here though. It was pretty quiet in here. I was just getting worried that you ran away or something."
"I'm on the eighth floor," she looks over to the window as if to emphasize her point, the closed curtains cutting off her view of the apartment building right across the street from hers, "my only exit is blocked by you and the agents they sent to babysit me."
Voight takes a really good look at her, tilting his head as he tries to grasp the mystery that is his daughter. He moves to stand in front of her, his arms crossed and his hands cupping his elbows, "Let me into that head of yours kid," he waits for her to look up at him, "what are you thinking?"
"I just don't get why my life has to be thrown off course because of the actions of two idiots. I have to be uprooted for who knows how long with a damn stranger just so I can come out of this alive. I hate that I went to work today excited that I was going to make double my pay only for it to not even be worth making because of how the night ended. I was supposed to be drinking a beer right now and watching some stupid game highlights. I hate that I have no control. I hate that I don't have a say in the matter, I mean, they say I have a choice but really, either relocate or die isn't really giving me much of an option. I just hate this." She ends her ramblings with a shrug.
"I do too kid," he moves to take a seat next to her, "and you know if there was something I could do, I would do it. I'm going to try and get you back here safe as soon as possible."
Erin felt her shoulder bump against his and she turns her head to see just how close he sat next to her. She gave a teary smile because she needed the comfort that his presence and proximity provided her, "They just killed them in cold blood," she feels her dad's thumbs press against her cheeks to wipe her tears away, "they didn't even hesitate to kill them and they wouldn't have hesitated to kill me either if that random car didn't turn onto the street."
She pulls away from him when she hears a knock at the door, just as gentle as the knock her dad applied when he came in, "Yes?" She calls out to grant the agent permission to enter.
He opens the door and it's an unfamiliar face that says, "sorry to interrupt but we should be leaving in the next ten minutes."
"…then come back in nine," Voight grumbles, waving for the agent to leave. Halstead doesn't put up an argument, he simply bows out gracefully. It was too late to get into it with the sergeant again.
The second the door shuts behind him, Erin lets out a watery laugh. She uses the back of her hands to wipe her eyes as she chuckles at her father's usual quirks, "You shouldn't be so difficult."
"Pot meet kettle," he retorts.
"I am not being difficult," she defends herself, hopping up to her feet and whirling around to face her dad, "This situation warrants my reaction. You were being an ass. It doesn't warrant that."
If it was any other day, he would argue against that. He'd give her a look. He'd probably tell her to watch her mouth. But, today wasn't like yesterday and the many years before it. Today was different because she was leaving for around six months and he didn't want to spend his final moments with her angry. He rose to his feet and pulled her into his arms, hugging her just as tight as he'd hugged her at the crime scene, "Are you sure you're going to be okay? Maybe I can," he tries to think quick on his feet, "I can work something out where someone can join you? I know we're a detective short in Intelligence but I'll send one of them with you if you really need it."
"No," she pulls out of the hug, "it's so last minute and I can't take someone away from their family for months. It sucks that I have to go and I don't want to put that on someone else."
"…they wouldn't have a choice," he says it flatly.
"And that's the point. I don't have a choice. I'd be a hypocrite if I approve of you practically forcing one of your detectives to join me for a getaway to the middle of nowhere or wherever. I know they'll go, even if you try to pose it as an option because they're smart and they'll read between the lines. You have a way of giving people choices and forcing them to take the choice that you want them to take, you're cunning like that."
He was geared to argue that point with his daughter because he is not cunning. He is not cunning! Is he cunning? Was he viewed as a superior that used skills and tactics to get what he wants? He's willing to argue that point because he doesn't have to use much to get his wish simply because he's the boss of the unit and they typically have to do as he says without him having to repeat himself.
"Sorry to interrupt," ah, Voight's reminded of the reason why he couldn't argue that point with his kid, it's because of the disruption, "but we should really be heading out."
"It couldn't have been nine minutes already." Voight frowned. He's absolutely annoyed by the interruption yet the agent didn't seem bothered by it.
Even though it wasn't her first time seeing him, it was her first time seeing him. If that made sense…it's a late night and Erin's been through a lot in the last couple of hours so if her brain isn't thinking straight, she'll blame it on that. But, the agent standing in her doorway, maneuvering around her luggage in order to approach her, hand stretched out to shake hers was a sight for sore eyes, "Hi, you must be Erin. I'm Agent Jay Halstead, I'll be the face you'll be stuck seeing for about six months," he says it as a joke and she appreciates his laidback personality.
She's glad he isn't as formal as the other agents she met working the case. At least, she hopes he isn't. She just met him so she doesn't really know much about him yet.
"It's nice to meet you," she shakes his hand, "and I guess it's fair. I'll be stuck seeing yours and you'll be stuck seeing mine." His smile grows even wider at that. And maybe that's why he was the agent chosen to go with her; he has such a calming affect that causes her heartrate to instantly even out. Maybe everything won't be so bad? Maybe these six months will go by in the blink of an eye? Or maybe she's just sleep-deprived and she's letting the face of a handsome stranger play games with her imagination? That smile of his is providing her with a false sense of security.
She breaks eye contact when she finds herself staring for too long. And she casually gives him a once over, starting at his eyes and making her way down to the shoes on his feet.
Despite the suits the other agents wore to the crime scene, he isn't dressed in one. He's in plain clothes, jeans, a navy-blue t-shirt which is definitely his color, and a leather jacket. She figures it's so he wouldn't stand out in an airport because him in a suit would definitely give off federal law enforcement vibes. He's talking to her, but she's so zoned out that she doesn't notice until her dad elbows her, "Don't be rude. The guy's talking."
She shoots off a glare at him before turning back to Jay, "Sorry, it's been a long day."
"No worries," he reassures her, "Are these the only bags you're bringing?"
"Yeah, the two suitcases and the duffle bag."
"No laptop in here right?"
"No laptop, no worries they gave me the spiel."
"You can leave your phone here or with your dad."
Erin reaches into her back pocket, pulling it out before placing it in the center of her dad's open hand, "And if I want to reach him?"
"…then you tell me and I'll make that happen."
"And if he wants to reach me?"
"…then he tells one of the agents and they'll make that happen."
Jay begins to throw the strap of her duffle bag around his shoulder when she suddenly remembers the framed photo lying face down to her left, "Wait," she calls out as he's grabbing the handle of each suitcase, "I forgot to put this inside," she goes over to peel back the zipper of her duffle bag to slide the picture inside before closing it, "Okay, I believe that's it." And he doesn't give her a second to change her mind because he's already rolling the suitcases out of her bedroom. She figures Ben is giving them a lift to the airport and his bags must already be in the car. This is weird. She's flying somewhere with a guy assigned to protect her. She's staying with that same guy in what she hopes is a place with two bedrooms. She turns to face her dad, finding him making sure her bedroom window was locked, "I just don't want anyone trying to break in while you're away."
She's rocking side to side, unable to keep still, "Are you going to water my plant while I'm gone?" Rubbing her hands together, she nods towards the living room, "I only have one."
"…then I'll just take it with me." He gives her window another push to ensure it's locked, "I don't want to be all up in your apartment when you're not here," he looks at the window once more.
"No one is going to break in."
He doesn't care for her comment. He does it to give himself a peace of mind. And even though she impatiently waits by the front door for him to double check the rest of the windows in her apartment, she finds herself appreciating the extra effort he put forward to keep her and her place safe, this is for her, this is to benefit her, she should remember that.
"I'll need the key to your mailbox. I'll check it once every few days." He says just as he moves to check the next window. She pulls her keys out to take the small key off the ring. And once the last window is checked and the curtains are all closed, he lifts the potted plant and moves it to be cradled in his left arm. He turns off the light and walks with her to the hallway right outside her door. She hands him the key to her mailbox. Then she turns to officially lock the top and bottom lock to the door of the place she's called home for the last five years. Her hands are shaking as she locks it. She finds herself holding in a large breath as her fingers fumble through the keys. Her body refuses to move from that spot once the top and bottom lock are officially locked in place. It takes for her dad to throw his arm around her shoulder and whisper "it's going to be alright," for her to gain the courage to nod and turn on her heel.
He still has to give her a nudge, always guiding her as the two of them walk down the hall. Erin stares down at the ground, watching as their feet move closer and closer to the elevator.
"Do you promise to do everything in your power to find them?" She finds herself whispering.
"I promise."
"What about my rent?" She suddenly remembers, whirling around in the direction of her apartment as if she's changing her mind, "I'm going to come home with my possessions on the curb outside."
He prods her to turn back around, "You don't worry about that. All you need to worry about is relaxing." They continue their walk to the elevator.
"How am I supposed to relax? This isn't a vacation. I'm literally running away to hide."
"I want you to try and relax. This is for the best. I don't like this as much as you but for your safety, you have to go. Don't worry about what's happening here. Let Halstead protect you, follow his orders, don't be a stubborn ass," she grunts when he says that last part because of course he had to slip that in there, "and if there's a reason to worry, he'd tell you. Don't drive yourself crazy these next six months with paranoia. It'll be hard but try to enjoy yourself."
"That's easier said than done."
"Can you at least try for me, kid?"
"I make no promises but," she pauses just as the doors of the elevator open up and they walk inside, "I'll see what I can do."
"…that's all I ask."
The elevator doors shut and it's the last she'll see of her apartment, of her bedroom, of the hallway, of the lobby as they walk outside of the building and load into the backseat of the truck. It's the last she'll see of it all for at least six months, sooner if they find the men in time, later if they don't.