For this story I have taken some scenes from the episodes of the series and adapted them a bit, for example the moment when the Intelligence storms a house and Voight is about to lose his cool in front of a woman. When Kim put her hand on his arm, that was the moment when I asked myself - why is there Burzek but not Burght? The latter is much better suited.

Chapter 4

So the previous evening, Kim and Hank had sat together in his office for quite a while. Somehow it had been nice. Hank had talked a little about his friendship with Al. He had told her a bit about the old days. About the things he had experienced with Al. And of how important Al had been to him. I mean, as a friend, as a confidant.

And when Kim got up in the morning, she couldn't stop thinking about the previous evening. About Al. And about Hank. She allowed herself to think of her sergeant as Hank after what they had shared. Well, you know, after that moment in his office.

Yesterday, as she had driven home in the car, Kim had tried to imagine what a young Hank Voight looked like in uniform. Having been at his house a few days ago, she hadn't really had a chance to look at the photos. All her attention that day had been on Hank. On making sure he didn't get himself drunk beyond reason. And not allowing his pain to overwhelm him. It was a pain that she felt too. She too missed Al. He had been like a father figure to her. Al had always been someone she could go to and ask for advice when she needed it. You see, he had always known what to say to her. And he had been there for her when she had needed him. Not like her own father had ever been.

All day long, she was haunted by her thoughts of Al and how the team really missed him. Including when the team stormed a suspect's house. Finally, there was a lead that led them to the person who was behind Al's murder. One hell of a lead.

But when they stormed the house, only the wife and her mother were in the house. There was no sign of the suspect, though. At this point, the team began to search the house. However, their search was unsuccessful. Only the two women were in the house. They just couldn't believe it. It was totally unbelievable to them. Here they were so close to the guy and then this happened. Once again they had no luck. The guy had gotten away from them again.

Hank could not and would not accept that. Never.

"Where's your husband? Where is he?", Hank snapped at the woman.

"I don't know," she replied. With that said, Hank was sure she was lying to him. In fact, he was pretty sure that the woman knew exactly where her husband was at that moment. He was probably even hiding here in this house. In some secret room they hadn't found yet. Or maybe in the basement. At any rate, they would find him! He would get an answer! Here and now.

"I'll ask you again, where is your husband? Where is he hiding? Come on, tell me! Where is he?" Hank felt the anger rising inside him. Anger at this guy. Toward the wife who was so obviously lying to him. And at himself.

So Hank wanted to yell at the woman, shake her, hit her, anything - he just wanted the answer he so desperately sought. He wanted to find her husband. He wanted to find Al's killer. Oh, and he wanted to finally sleep soundly again. Sleep without waking up several times a night in a cold sweat. From the day Al died, Hank had been plagued by nightmares. Each and every night he hadn't numbed himself with alcohol until the guilt inside him was a little smaller and he finally got some sleep. Well, for a few hours.

He wanted this to finally stop, Hank wanted it to stop. No longer did he want to feel guilty. Have no more of those horrible dreams where he saw himself stabbing Al. Horrible dreams that got worse night after night.

And most of all, he wanted his best friend back. He missed Al so much!

Hank reached out and wanted to grab the woman by the arm. He needed answers. He needed closure. Both of which he would get today. No matter how. He was willing to do anything for the truth.

It was then that he felt a touch. Very gentle only. It was on his arm. Someone touched him on his arm. He felt someone's hand on his arm. Well, not someone, it was Kim.

"Don't," he heard Kim's voice beside him very softly.

One word had been enough to make him hesitate. One word. From Kim.

"I'll talk to the woman," Kim added, pushing past Hank into his field of vision so she was now standing directly between her sergeant and the suspect's wife. She shielded the woman from his anger. From his emotions, which were out of control. So Kim did what Al used to do. She became the voice of reason. To Hank.

Hank took a few steps back and contemplated the scene before him. He looked at Kim as she now spoke to the woman herself. Gently but forcefully. She might have had more luck than he had with his anger. With violence. With pain. After all, none of that belonged here. As well as he himself did not belong here.

He had to get out of here. He had to get away from this situation. Away from his anger. And so he turned on his heel and left the house.

Kim found Hank outside the door some time later. He was leaning with his back against the wall of the house and had his eyes closed. He took several deep breaths and tried to get his anger under control. That unbridled rage that he almost took out on the woman. Well, almost. If Kim hadn't stopped him.

It was Kim he saw coming toward him, when he opened his eyes again.

"She really doesn't know where her husband is," Kim said, coming to stand directly in front of him.

"Damn, that-" he cursed.

"We're going to find him. For Al," Kim promised. She, too, wanted to find the guy. She also wanted justice to be served for Al. That his death was atoned for. Finally, "But not like this."

Kim couldn't let Hank's anger get out of control. Well, she would be there for him. She was going to have his back. Oh, and she'd be the friend he so desperately needed. That is, if he let her.

Hank gave her a weak smile. He was glad Kim had stopped him. If she hadn't . . . He didn't want to finish that thought.

"Burg- . . . Kim, thank you. For just now. I . . . So," he tried to explain his behavior earlier.

"I know, Sarge," Kim briefly put her hand on his arm and gave him a squeeze. And then she left him alone.

Hank watched her walk to the car. She gave him the space he needed to get himself and his emotions back under control.

By the time evening came, Kim was glad that today was finally over.

She sat down on her couch with a glass of red wine in her hand. Classical music played softly in the background. It was just what Kim needed to unwind after a day like today. Oh what a day it had been! All she wanted to do was forget it. That moment in the suspect's house still haunted her.

And then she remembered this one single moment - in front of the house. You know the moment when she had looked at Hank Voight. Such a lot had been in his gaze. Kim had had to suppress the urge to hug her sergeant. To touch him. On top of that, this wasn't the first time Kim had had such thoughts about her sergeant. Inappropriate thoughts. Forbidden thoughts.

Why was this happening? Why did she have to keep thinking about Hank Voight? And not just in terms of him as a sergeant. Rather, of him as a man.

A knock on the door jolted her out of her thoughts.

Hank Voight was standing outside the door.

"Sarge, come on in. Has something happened?" she asked worried. Did something happen? Happened to someone on the team. OR was there a case? Could there be a lead to Al's killer? A million thoughts raced through her mind.

"No, everything's fine," he replied.

"Okay," Kim was a little reassured. Seems like nothing bad had happened. However, why was he here?

They looked at each other a bit indecisively. Neither of them knew what to say. Just what the right words would be.

"Would you like something to drink? Coffee? Beer?" Kim finally asked.

"Red wine is fine," he said, as he spied the glass on the coffee table.

And so, a little later, they were both sitting on Kim's couch.

"Well, um, I just wanted to say thank you again for today," Hank began.

"For that, you must-" Kim wanted to contradict him, but Hank raised his hand, signaling to her that he wasn't done yet. That there were still words he wanted to say now. Words that he had to say now.

Earlier, when he had been sitting in his car in front of her house, he had thought about the words he wanted to say to her. Given what had happened today, Kim deserved more than a half-hearted explanation.

"I want to find Al's killer. I owe it to him and to Meredith. Al deserves it," Hank declared.

"Yes, he deserves that," Kim agreed.

" -But so do all the other victims. So they all deserve to have the best cops in the city doing everything in their power to bring their killers, their rapists to justice. An' when I lose my temper, you know, if you hadn't stopped me today, . . . Burgess, I don't know how far I would have gone to get an answer. Whether I might have. . . . Uh, well, you know."

Kim nodded. Oh, she knew Hank Voight was a hothead. And that he had crossed a few lines in the past to get answers. Still, Al had always been there to stop him in time. You know, to make sure Hank didn't cross the line.

Only there was no Al anymore.

She was the one who had stopped him now. Oh, and she would do it again. She would watch over him. Hell, she'd be there for him, just like Al had been there for him. In fact, she would do even more for him. SHE would be a friend to him and more. Because she cared for him.

"I grabbed some take-out on my way home. Chinese. You want some?" Kim asked and got up from the couch.

And before he could answer, Kim appeared next to him, offering him a box of take-out.

"Thank you" Hank took the offered box and tried the chicken lo mein, "It's good."

And a moment later both of them were sitting on her couch, drinking wine and eating take-out straight from the box. Both enjoyed the moment.

Sitting here with Kim on her couch and just talking really felt good. As it had been nice to talk to her yesterday. Just to tell her about Al. About the friendship they had shared. And maybe he could tell her more, too. Maybe he could tell her some things. You know, the way he'd shared his thoughts with Al in the past. Now, to Hank, it felt like a friendship was forming between Kim and himself. Such a friendship that was similar to the one he had had with Al.

Then again, this friendship would be different. Very different. However, they had no way of knowing that now.