Summary: After an undercover gone wrong, this is how Hank Voight says sorry after feeling guilty towards an injured Halstead. But it leads to a revelation of a big secret. It is more Voight as father figure than a leader.
Warning : A mention of child abuse.
Author's Note 1: I just want to thank all of you who follows and reviewed this story. For Lala, LaFrancaise, anon Guest and V Hugo (I'm not French but I use google translator) how much I wish to reply to you guys personally but still thank you.
Author's Note 2: So here's the thing, because you guys love the first chapter so much, I'm afraid if this chapter is not going to meet your expectation. I can't make this better than first chapter and I always have something to change everytime I read it again and again so maybe I'll regret this tomorrow but here you go. I don't have beta reader. I also don't speak English much so all mistakes are mine.
Disclaimer : CPD and its characters belong to NBC and the production team. I don't have any medical background so this mostly based on my own simple research. As usual, the title is from Jamestown Story's song.
It's Like a Knife in a Gunfight
Chapter 2
by SingleMinded
Small taps on his cheek woke him up with a jolt – for the second times in a row that night.
He gasped a few times, trying to catch his breath as he blinked at the concern eyes before him. But the heave didn't stop and he started to feel alarm.
Why can't I breathe?
"Hey, kid. Hey. Hey! JAY! Look at me!" Voight's hands clutched each side of his face, demanding Jay's attention. But it seemed like a lost cause, as the younger guy's mind appeared to have another idea – to get away from him.
Jay's left hand grabbed Voight's arm, trying to pry it opened from his face. The gasps became worse as Voight could clearly see the panic in the eyes when the kid's exhausted body couldn't fight the strong present of the sergeant.
He gave a gentle slap to get the attention back.
"Jay, look at me. You can breathe. Look at me." Jay kept looking away. "Hey." He pulled the trembled chin to lead the head toward him.
"Trust me on this. Just follow my breathing." He waited until Jay's eyes fixed on him before he slowly guided him to a proper breathing.
"Deep breath. In and out. Good… good… just like that."
Jay started to calm himself down. That was when he began to get his senses back – a clear picture of his whole situation right now. His brain got to function again and he couldn't help but feeling so embarrassed.
Damn! Damn it! Why now?
He felt like burying himself alive.
Post army days, he had never been this vulnerable in front of anybody – neither Will, nor Erin. And to be this weak in front of Hank Voight to begin with, it was so wrong in so many ways.
Voight straightened up his posture when he was certain that Jay was no longer in the harm of the panic attack. But still, he left his right hand to clutch Jay's uninjured shoulder – leaving comprehension of support. He took a closer look before letting go a long sigh of relief as he could see the colour was back to the previous pale face.
"You okay?" A short question – also replied by a short nod.
Voight felt that Jay was shifting back a little – a move that would go unnoticed if not because of his clenched hand on the shoulder that suddenly lost some of its grip. Bending up one of the knees a little, Jay's head bowed down while his left hand unconsciously roaming over his sling. Voight furrowed his brows as he noticed the behavior.
The kid was in a defensive mode. And it confused him.
Jay was a trained soldier. He could pull a stoic face without emotion in a couple of second if he needed to. He saw that a few times before. But now – under an offhanded pressure – the young man gave away every single hint possible to be read by him with his body language and facial expression – his bare emotion.
Hank Voight stood there silently, trying to put two and two together. It didn't take too much time before it hit him.
"The nightmare, this… this panic attack, it is not the first time?" he asked, only to be responded with a mute answer.
"This is not the first time then." He said slowly, confirming the answer himself. His jaw set, gritting his teeth together.
Surprise. Sympathy. Stupid.
The surge of emotions rushed inside his chest for just getting to learn this now. And somehow these emotions grew to an unnecessary rage.
"Do you have some sort of PTSD that you failed to tell me beforehand? Are you that stupid to receive task after task to be in a dangerous situation with a criminal before, without noticing me of your problem? What if this happened when we pursue a suspect or in a gunfight?!" He roared but then mentally scolded himself as he saw Halstead just flinched under his blow.
He shook his head, running down a hand through his face. He didn't have the right to blame Jay for something uncertain yet because he needed to at least hear the whole story from Jay first.
It was enough that he felt guilty as hell after getting this subordinate injured. Now, he didn't need to put more blame to the kid for something he couldn't even control.
He crouched down, leveling their eye contact – which was impossible right now because Jay just looked down, playing with the sewing of his blue sling. A pang of regret streamed down his chest as he looked at Jay's face. Instinctively, he ran his right hand to the boy's head – like he always did to Justin.
"Come on, dinner is ready. You need to take your med anyway. We can talk about this another time."
…
They sat silently on the table. As much as his stomach growled, asking to be fed, his appetite just didn't feel like it. Jay managed to finish half of his pair of sandwiches before he thought it was enough to take his medicines. His body was clad in a thin grey shirt and it wasn't really cold around here but still, his hand trembled as he popped the pills into his mouth – in full hope that Voight would never notice it.
After that he sat there motionless, waiting patiently for the effect of the drugs. Two of the pills was the drowsy pills – the painkiller – and it should be enough to slow down his pounding heart which started to rise up again.
Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop.
He hated it when he couldn't control his body like it wasn't his. He knew how to pretend – like what he usually did as if he was a master of it. He could cover the trembling hand under the table, he could obviously wrapped up the sound of his thumping heart inside his chest but he couldn't hide his fast breathing – and it troubled him – because when he tried, he just make it ragged and visible to Voight's hearing distant.
This stupid panic attack – he had a clean record for the whole year – he thought it was gone. Because once it started, it wouldn't go away easily. To have this problem shared with his boss was not even an option. So he could just pray for the drug to take effect as fast as it could – because if it wasn't, he rather ran away from this house than having the embarrassing moment in front of Voight again.
"Jay."
He opened his eyes – which he never realized that he closed them before – looking straight at the brown eyes in front of his.
He noticed.
Jay thought, judging from the concern eyes of the old man. But his ragged breathing started to slow down and the hard thumping inside his chest was no longer sensed. He started to feel drowsy.
Finally the drugs kicked in.
"You okay?" Voight looked at him. Jay couldn't help but finding so small under the scrutiny of his boss' eyes – feeling naked of being read like an opened book.
"Yeah." He nodded, looking away. He didn't have any courage to meet the eyes anymore.
Courage.
He needed to find courage.
He never told anybody about the real story and maybe the burden of being alone with the secret started to eat him little by little.
Maybe if I told somebody, it will go away?
"Are you that stupid to receive task after task to be in a dangerous situation with a criminal before, without noticing me of your problem?"
He blinked, remembering Voight's rage before. What if this was going to be a problem in his future job? What if Voight thought he wasn't fit enough to be in Intelligence anymore? And what if they wanted him to have a full check-up – physically and mentally – and dismissed him from the Unit after that. Because right now, he didn't even know his own medical status of these whole nightmares and panic attack - if it was just a mild problem or a bad one.
"It was my dad."
Voight looked up from his coffee as he heard that, trying to figure out of what was happening. He could see how much Jay was struggling to keep talking. So he just remained silent – waiting patiently of whatever he was offered.
"My dad, he was once an alcoholic. I was like fifteen at that time, Will was seventeen." Voight leaned back, copying Jay's posture as the kid continued.
"One night, Will went out partying, leaving me alone with mom and dad. My mom was sick, it was a start that lead to her illness but I didn't know that at that time. Dad spent so much on booze he never cared about us for the whole year. I felt so angry because he didn't buy any medicine for mom. So I took his money but he knew." Jay's face contorted in pain at the memory – matching his quivering voice. "He beat me up so bad and left me alone in the kitchen." He went dead silent for a while.
"Ungrateful son! If I knew you're going to be a thief, I should dump you long time ago!"
The odour of alcohol hit his scent as he was being lift up by two big hands that grabbed his shirt, throwing him hard to the kitchen cabinet. He cringed as his forehead knocked the edge of the furniture – feeling dizzy all of the sudden.
1…
That was when the first kick started.
Voight's arm reached his shoulder, squeezing it a little – pulling him back from the memory.
"You don't have to talk about this yet, if you're not ready." The grudge voice sounded surprisingly soothing for him to continue.
"No. It's… It's fine." He sighed, "Mom found me and I ended up in the hospital for two weeks. Unfortunately, dad was drunk enough and didn't remember any of that. Mom also kept silent about it and had me to do the same. We made up some story about a thief who never get caught. Will never knew about this and since mom died, she left me alone with the secret." Jay groaned, rubbing his temple hard. Thinking and talking about this really took a toll on his body. Even the drowsiness of the drugs before couldn't stop the new ache in his brain right now.
Voight scratched his left brow as he studied worriedly at the young man before him. He knew some part of the story as it was stated in his personal file – specifically in his medical history report – but that just it. He wanted to ask further but Jay was in no state to be put under more pressure. So he stood up, moving around the table to grab Jay's left arm.
"I think that's enough for tonight. Let's go, I'll help you."
"No." With what was left in his body, Jay pulled back his arm, ignoring the man beside him. His left hand was once again rubbing his aching temple – elbowing the table for some support.
"The nightmare, it's not what you're thinking it is."
Voight shook his head in disbelieved. So this is what it's all about.
He moved back to his own chair, clearing his throat before asking, "Your nightmare, how often it is?"
Jay raised his brows, feeling grateful of the interest by his leader. At least he was all ears. "Not… not that often. The first time I got it, after I was being held captive by a group of enemies back in my army days. I have it for a week after being rescued. But then it went away. Just like that. And the second time was…." Jay halted, stealing a gaze to his boss before looking away. There was a hint of regret on his face.
Voight got the answer right away. "When you were already in my team."
Jay nodded. His looked so worried, thinking about his position in the unit. "I'm sorry for not telling you but you don't have to worry about it. I'm pretty sure it's not PTSD. It will not interfere my job at all."
Voight sighed. "It's not for you to decide either it is PTSD or not or how bad it is. If there's nothing to worry about, trust me I'll keep you in my team forever. But believe me kid, I saw a lot of friends who got lost under the influence of this illness. If you never get treated, sometimes things that happened 30, 40 years ago could still hunt you down until you give up. And we don't even start talking about this panic attack yet."
"But…" Jay leaned back, shoulders slumping down as Voight could see that he was no longer had his defense. The kid was at the verge of breaking down.
He was giving up.
"Jay, we can solve this. Off the book, I will help you." Voight nodded. "I will help you."
The kid was too out of it to think straight. He could see how Jay kept fighting his drugs, as he became exhausted minute by minute. So he thought it was really enough. Jay needed his rest and he was not going to accept any disagreement about that anymore.
Once again, he stood up, reaching for Jay's left arm and held on to it firmly this time – plainly didn't left any room for argument. "Let go get some rest."
Jay was standing up slowly in defeat. He swayed a little as he did so – feeling gratitude toward Voight's helping hands – or else he would knocked his injured ribs to the table.
They walked to the room and Voight never left his side alone – which he was so thankful. He eyed the older guy silently, wondering how tonight he put a lot of trust into this man without any doubt. Along his two years in Intelligence, he couldn't even count anymore how much time they had an argument over Voight's decisions to play things off the book.
But now he understood. All these times, Hank Voight just tried to protect every single one of their team – Tony, Al, Kevin, Ruzek, Erin, Mouse.
Him.
It was a new knowledge about this man – which earned him a new level of respect.
A new knowledge he paid with a secret. And it worth it.
Voight waited until Jay was settled down on Justin's bed. He was about to walk away when Jay called his name quietly, "Hey Voight… " He turned around, looking at the groggy eyes.
"Can I say thank you?"
His brows creased, trying to figure out how the young man's mind was working – but he answered anyway.
"Of course kid. You are welcome." Patting Jay's arm slowly – who didn't show any sign of waking up anymore – before he turned to the door.
He leaned over to the door frame, looking at the sleeping figure for the last time – just to make sure that everything was fine – before shutting the door slowly and continued back to the kitchen. He had some dishes to do but before that, he took out his phone from his pocket and scrolled down the names before touching the green button.
After two rings, the call was answered.
"Hi Voight. Is everything okay with Jay?" Will's voice was heard at the end of the line.
"Everything is fine. I just want to let you know that he is staying with me for the whole weekend."
After a few minutes, he put the phone back into his pocket. Taking a long look into the direction of Justin's room, his mind was determined.
He got work to do.
The End
Bad ending. Bad everything. I'm not satisfied but I need to end this. I'm so sorry if you expect more or better than this, this is my limit :( My biggest challenge was to write them stay in character. Hopefully, you still can leave some nice review about this. Also, for the people who asked me to write more chapter of this, I'm afraid I can't do that because I have a bad record of abandoning my stories (if I encounter the writer's block). One shot suits me better. There, my first CPD fanfic. Hopefully I'll have time to write more in the future. Thank you readers.