Title: So It Goes
Author: ZombieJazz
Fandom: Chicago PD
Disclaimer: I don't own them. Chicago PD and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Ethan has been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.
Summary: Hank Voight and his family try to cope with their struggles at home and work — and the dynamics those conflicting circumstances creat for their blended family in a time of transition. The series focuses on Voight, his sick and disabled son — and what's left of his family and their strained relationships, particularly that with Erin Lindsay and Jay Halstead as they work at establishing their own lives as a young couple.
This is a collection of one-shots/scenes using the characters as represented in the AU established in Interesting Dynamics. The chapters currently represent scenes happening in approximately S04 of the series or early 2017.
As I continue to update, they'll just provide one-shot snap shots into the characters' lives and likely some recasts of scenes from the show.
This is not a linear narrative with a beginning-middle-end. It's just scenes. It is generally set so it begins around the mid-point of Season 4 (or about January/February 2017) and may occasionally draw reference to (and have SPOILERS) from the series.
A notification is provided at the beginning of each chapter about where it happens in relation to the other chapters, if they are out of sequence. Chapters will be re-ordered semi-regularly (i.e. if you're reading this weeks or months after the chapter was originally posted, it's likely now in the right place, so just ignore the notification).
SPOILER ALERT: There are MAJOR spoilers in this collection from Interesting Dynamics, So This is Christmas, Scenes and Aftermath. This series also contains SPOILERS related to the finale of Season 3 of Chicago PD and will have occasionally spoilers from Season 4 of the show.
Hank wandered into H's bedroom. Hadn't taken a lot of looking to find Erin. Wasn't like there were a lot of places to disappear off to in the condo. But she'd still managed to disappear some. Actually got the impression that she just really wanted to disappear period. Almost surprised she'd agreed to come over to Olive's place – what had once been her place. But he was glad she had.
She gave him a small glance as he came into the room. She was standing at the window gazing down into the small park across the way from her building. Small but nice. Sure sign that the area was gentrifying. That all these young, urban professionals they'd spent years selling these dog-ass ugly condos too were now reaching the point they'd finally aged into adulthood and put down enough roots that they were starting families. Didn't just want the glass towers and the concrete with the garnet countertops and exposed brink in some sort of fancy factory-style loft anymore. They wanted fucking parks and green space for their kids to play in. Space – and places to take – their baby strollers.
Erin hadn't had much use for that feature of the developing neighborhood – that still had a whole lot more developing to do, as far as Voight was concerned. But, it was a nice feature to have for Olive and H. Though, he didn't know how long they'd stay there. Wasn't sure how much he liked the idea of his grandson having that much of an urban upbringing anyway. One bedroom condo? That's no way for a little kid to grow up in Chicago. But if Olive ended up being happy there and things all worked out, he wouldn't input his opinion too much on where H should be living. Was happy enough to just have him back in Chi-Town. That didn't mean, though, as Olive got a bit more settled and the whole school and part-time job and daycare thing worked it self out to the point it was routine, that he wouldn't be keeping a bit of an eye out and an ear to the ground about other options that might be a bit more suitable. Then it'd be figuring out how to broach the topic when he did.
Went over and stood with his girl then, though. Looked down too. Halstead had used the guise of taking the dog out for a piss to get the boys out from underfoot for a while. Kind of appreciated that. Appreciated Olive's invitation over for the big game, but that condo space really wasn't made for too many bodies – especially when two of them were kiddos. Though, he knew Erin had jammed her share of bodies in there for partying while she was working on doing a bit of a slip-and-slide on one of her banana peels. But the adults in the room now weren't drunk or stoned off their asses. Made all the difference about a willingness to share that little of space with four adults, two kids and a dog.
Looked like the scrimmaged football game they'd planned with Bear had petered out, though. Dog had likely already mangled Henry's little foam ball or he'd managed to come to the quick conclusion that a 19-month old and a kid on crutches didn't make for great teammates when it came to running any sort of plays. Or even tossing the ball around. Though, E had a decent arm. Had tossed the football around with the kid enough that he knew Magoo could get a good spin on the thing. But that was about where his skill set and abilities ended when it came to football.
Weather was so fucking weird that winter. All over the place. Feeling more like spring that weekend than fucking February. So the playground was fairly clear. At least of snow. Looked like other families were taking advantage of the decent temperatures and the space to run some of the sillies out for any other households in the surrounding buildings hosting gatherings for the Super Bowl. Not that it looked like Halstead and the boys were associated with any of the rest of the folks down there. Doing their own thing. H was trying to find his ramp legs in tottering full speed up to the toddler playset while E was working at dangling across the monkeybars. Even from up there it looked like Halstead was trying to decide who's tumble he was going to have to catch first – strategically placing himself in the middle of both kid's path of activity.
Hank allowed Erin a thin smile and gave her shoulder a small squeeze but she shrunk away from it some. So he let his arm come down and just looked out the window with her. Just watched.
"Where's your head at?" he asked.
She shrugged but then glanced around the room they were standing in. Olive had it all done up. Real nice too. Very much a little boy's room. Cars, cars everywhere. Blues and greens and yellows. Real bright. It was nice. She'd done a good job with it. And the amount of work and thought she'd put into, it gave Hank some heed. Knew it meant she'd be there for a while. She was going to try to make a go of this. Didn't need to worry about his grandson – what he had left of his son – ripped away from him. Not right now. Hopefully wouldn't have to worry until Olive finished up her schooling and her placement thing. And had to hope that with all the hospitals and medical centers and clinics and the population size of the city, that when all that was said and done, she'd be able to find some position in Chicagoland real easy. That she wouldn't be looking farther afield for work.
"Just hard to believe I lived here," Erin said flatly.
Hank allowed a grunt. Knew that that statement had layers to it. Supposed it was understandable that it did. But reality was even if you stripped that back and took it at face value, Erin and Olive were at two different points in their lives while occupying that space. Two pretty different people – women – to begin with. The place was going to look different. Just like the townhouse that Erin and Halstead were occupying now sure looked different than her set up in this condo, even though a lot of the furniture and decorating had made the move along with them. Thing was different people – at different stages in their lives – had made that move than the young woman Erin had been when she'd bought that place when she'd made detective. Those two women weren't the same people anymore either.
She must've realized her statement had undertones to it, though, because she glanced back into the living space. A real living space. Playspace and dining room and living room that worked as Olive's bedroom and desk space for her studies too. She had managed – and had to – cram a whole lot of living into that main room. But it seemed to be working for now. But, again, wasn't sure it'd make a lot of sense for the long-term.
"Is she doing OK out there?" Erin asked.
"Oh, yea," Hank allowed a little nod and his own sad, distracted smile. "She'd got it all under control."
"Shows how much she knew him, doesn't it?" Erin muttered.
Hank's smile got a little sadder. A little more distant. But he offered a grunt and a nod. Because it did.
He'd been taken a little off-guard when Olive had asked if had plans for Super Bowl Sunday. Hadn't. Had taken it as her looking to get a dinner invite – which she didn't need, especially on a Sunday. But had tossed it out anyway, because he didn't take opportunities to spend a couple hours with his grandson for granted anymore. Took everyone of them he could get. Went looking for them. And purposely made time for them too. But before he'd even fully gotten the offer out of his mouth – before he'd asked if there was anything specific she thought she might like on the table – she'd said she wanted to do something. To have them all over for dinner and the game.
"Justin and Super Bowl," Erin had muttered again. And it was about the same words that Olive had sheepishly mumbled at him too when she'd put out the invitation.
It was true, though. Justin and Super Bowl. His son had been such a hockey and football nut when he was little. Probably worse than Eth and ball now. Different way. More like Eth and dinosaur levels. Just obsessive about it all. But supposed little boys and sports. Hadn't really minded. Seemed like just something you did with your kids – your sons – had them signed up for some of the leagues.
But Super Bowl? J just loved that. Had when he was little but after Erin arrived on the scene and then E – it was clear it was about more than the game or the food. His oldest boy had effectively carved that out as their father-son time. Their day. And even after all the bullshit J had pulled over his teens, even after Camille was gone, and even after the drunk driving – his son still wanted that day with him. Still wanted to watch the game with him. When his son was in jail, still got a call on Super Bowl Sunday. When he was in Basic. Right up to last year. Still got the call. Still got asked if he was going to watch the game. And had got the text after it about who'd won or who'd lost. If J was real worked up about, he might've even got one of those ninety second phone calls from his son.
One day a year that they'd really seemed to be able to touch base and just … be. Put the bullshit aside for a few hours and just fucking be.
Wished there'd been more days in a year like that. More days in J's lifetime that had been like that. And there had been. The sad part was that Hank just felt like they hadn't had many of them for a real long time. And now that was something they'd never get back. Never repair. A real cat's cradle. Little boy blue and the man and moon. Time comes and goes too fucking quickly. Sometimes it's gone before you know it.
He was trying to be more conscious of that. With Eth. With H. With Erin – as much as she'd let him now. And, if she wouldn't or couldn't – since she was an adult woman now and things were just … different – maybe she'd at least let him be more conscious of it if she brought some more grandchildren into the family for them all to enjoy.
"He'd like the menu," was all Hank said, though. Really all he could manage. Because Erin liked him to form words rather than just grunting acknowledgement anymore. And that was something he was trying to be more conscious of too.
A smile grew on Erin's face, though. A real one. And she actually found his eyes in her amusement.
"Yeah," she agreed.
Truth in that statement too. Real truth. Olive was cooking up a storm of junk food that topped out Justin's list of favorites. Hot wings and corn chips and chili. Ranch everything – even if some grown-up sense had kicked in and its side was fresh veggies this year. And baked potatoes being another compromise, with Olive noting she knew J would've opted for loaded potato skins but she'd figured since Eth couldn't eat them she'd pass on that. Hank was still sure Magoo would be happy to load his potato does with all the bacon bits, chili and salsa out anyway.
Not much of a meal in Hank's books. But definitely reflective of his son. At least his memories of him when he was a kid. Even if such indulgences eventually just got regulated to just Super Bowl weekend. Thankfully. So Hank would indulge too. Let everyone else without comment. Though, he didn't know where they were going to put all that food. But was also sure that the leftovers wouldn't go to waste.
Just like even though he knew that Eth and Erin hadn't had much interest in sitting down to watch a football game – even the Super Bowl – in years past, they would sit there that night. Watch it with him. Watch it with Olive. Watch it for Justin.
It was fucked up what things followed after you after you'd lost one of your own. What became traditions and memories. And what just fell to the wayside.
The things grief made you do. And did to you.
"It's real good of you to be letting Olive and H use this place," Hank said, since he got the smile. Since there was more to her standing in that toddler room that had once been hers. Her whole being was saying that. "I really appreciate it."
Erin just shrugged. Because he'd said as much to her before. Because he'd tried to reach some agreement with her on him paying her mortgage there on Olive's behalf until Olive got a bit more settled and sorted and could take over on her own. But Erin wouldn't take his money. Any of it. Whatever the reason. And it wasn't something to press at while they were still trying to repair their relationship. Even though he knew her and Halstead could be using the cash in better places rather than managing two mortgages.
But he'd leave any more discussion – or browbeating – about it until the spring. When Erin said it'd be a better time to sell anyway. When hopefully they'd repaired their relationship enough that she wouldn't prickle as much about him trying to work with her – and Olive – to set up a plan about how they were going to manage paying for the place if that's where Olive wanted to say or where might make more sense if she didn't or couldn't manage with helping out with the payments yet.
"It's not a big deal," Erin said.
"Kind of is," he allowed flatly. Because it was. And wasn't the kind of thing that everyone – or anyone – would do for someone else. Because Hank knew Erin had qualms about him and about her relationship with Justin and about Olive in general, not to mention how that little family came to be.
"Family …," she put back to him just as flatly.
And he grunted. He gazed at her. Because she hadn't used that word a whole lot since her brother died. Or at least not since that night at the Silos. Even though they were working at being a family again. Even though they'd made some real strides. That it felt like he was starting to have his girl back – not just that he had his daughter-in-law and grandson back. And he knew that it was his girl who'd got Olive and Henry back in his life for him. Knew it was Erin who kept chipping at Eth and reminding his youngest that no matter how much he hated him in a particular moment, he was still his father and still loved him. But even in all of that "family" hadn't been a word Erin had batted around much. Or at all as far as he knew.
She just kept looking down into the park, though. So he joined her in staring down again. They had H in the swing now. Looked like Bear was loving it almost as much as Henry. Being a real under-doggie as he dodged back and forth. Stupid mutt.
"He's good with them …," Hank allowed flatly. Wasn't even sure he meant to say it. Just kind of came up in his effort to provide a bit more than a grunt at every one of her statements.
"He really wants kids," she said and trailed off.
Must've been her own slip. But maybe not. Could see that being in her condo-turned-toddler-town was weighing on her. Could see little glimpses of it every time she was around Henry. Quiet sadness. A touch of regret. He knew the look. The eyes. Had seen it play across Camille's being for years. And even after they'd managed to piece together their little family, there'd still be times – and times of year – that he'd see it dance in her. Some losses and missing pieces never get found. Didn't matter what other pieces you got in your life to plug that hole. Didn't quite mend it. Ever.
That was a statement he didn't know what to say to, though. Not without saying something that ended up with him having his foot in his mouth. Wasn't too sure she wanted him to respond either. Because those kinds of statements – they weren't a territory they'd weighed into for a while either.
"He didn't used to," she said, her arms tucked up around her more protectively. But she'd been doing that a lot that afternoon. Had her armor on to around them. To be there. "Before …"
Hank just let a grunt to that and gazed down at the boys' antics. Monkeys. "Don't know most guys do until they're with someone they want to have them with," he allowed.
She gave him a glance. But he kept his eyes down in the park too. Something strange about getting to know the other half of the genes that will make up your grandchildren. Been a crash course with Olive. It was different with Jay. He was getting to know him over time. Learning about lot of different facets of him. Seeing him as a cop and a man. Watching him not just with his daughter but with his son and now his grandson. His daughter-in-law. It created a different familiarity. A comfort level – and a strangeness – about the reality they'd likely be the one fathering grandchildren with your girl that you'd raised. This protectiveness intermingled with just … an understanding that he'd be just as protective with those kids he did sire. He wasn't sure if it made it easier than just having a girl show up at your place of work telling you she was pregnant with your son's child. Or just different.
But J. Erin. Ethan. It all was so fucking different. Kids are. It wasn't worth even trying to compare it. Wasn't worth trying to do it the same with each one. You couldn't. And in a lot of ways, he sure wished he'd come to that conclusion a whole lot sooner in his life. In his marriage. In his fatherhood.
Erin's eyes only set on his for a moment, though. Long enough to measure him. For her to decide how he felt about that statement he'd just made. Then they drifted back through the window. Back to maybe where they rightfully belonged. Where they were needed. Should be.
"I don't know how you do the job and have a family," she muttered. "That survives. Look at Dawson. Or Al. … Or Jules."
Hank grunted. Even though he knew he wasn't supposed to. But needed to weigh how to answer that. Because those were all different situations. Different than her and Jay. Different than him and Camille. Each marriage was fucking different. Each family. And it really all came down to your patience and your willingness to work at it. And marriage – family – it was just like any other job, if you wanted to see the benefits and the pay-off. You needed to work at it. Really fucking work at it. And there's going to be times it's an uphill battle. There's going to be real boring plateaus that seem never-ending. Going to fucking rocky moments. There's going to be lows. And there's going to be highs. It's not a race. It's a fucking marathon. And you really just have to be both committed to plodding along. Willing to put in the work. And you've got to be realistic about what the benefits and pay-offs are. And you've got to redefine happiness and contentment. Stop chasing for more and be happy with where you're at and what you have. And work at turning that little lot in life you have into the best lot you can all manage. Not be looking for an upgrade all the time.
And sometimes you're just going to loose sight of all that. Sometimes you'll fuck up. Or you'll decide you can do better. Or be better off alone. Sometimes you'll just want a break – from the spouse or from the kids. Or from the chores and honey-dos and errands. Because marriage and family and kids and parenthood – it was fucking work and it wasn't no walk in the rose garden.
But time's limited. Even through the fucking bullshit and the doldrums. So make the most of it. Wasn't one to quit midstream. To tuck tail and run. And hoped he'd taught as much to his kids. That it'd be something of value they'd take from their upbringing. For all his faults as a man, husband and father – he'd stuck it out – marriage, family and fatherhood. For better or worse. And he'd fucking worked at it. He still did. Up in the fucking Rockies. Or the pit of Hell. Depending on the day.
"I don't know how you and Camille did it …," Erin acknowledged quietly – saving him from having to try to analyze, criticize or defend anything that had happened to any other marriages or families of those in his bullpen.
Having to breakdown what it meant to be a cop and to raise a family – that seemed somehow easier. Or at least it gave him an out to look at his own attempt to make it work.
"My experience was that having an understanding wife who made a lot of personal and professional sacrifices helped a whole lot," he rasped.
"Camille and sacrifices worth making …," Erin said.
It got another grunt. Because Cami wasn't always thrilled about the sacrifices she had to make. The things she had to give up. The concessions and compromises that had to be made. But she did. She made them. And, Hank still felt if she was there, she'd tell the kids that she didn't regret that. Any of it. That family was worth it. That they were worth it. And that she'd had a good life – personally and professionally. That she'd achieved some of her dreams and goals. And she'd gotten to share that with them. That that was a whole lot more than some people could claim – even if her life and their family and her job and career hadn't been perfect. Even though not everything that gone according to plan. And they'd had their rough periods – in marriage and in family and in life. And they'd had their heart-breaks and sorrows. But they'd pulled through. Together. And they'd worked at raising three great kids. Poured their hearts and souls into them. And all that counted for something. It was worth sacrificing for. It still was. Just like any more grandkids that he got – they'd be worth sacrificing for up until his last breath too. Because that's just the way it was supposed to work. In his opinion.
"Good talker too," Hank manage. "Common sense. Reality check. Patrol and family. Wasn't going to work for us. Undercover. Marriage can only survive so much of that. Especially after kids are on the scene. Made sure I knew when I was getting close to trying her patience. When it was time for me to make a sacrifice. Make a change."
"So we're screwed …," Erin muttered.
Hank shook is head, looking down at Halstead. Jay. Had already seen he was a man willing to make sacrifices. And knew that even though he didn't see either of them leaving CPD any time soon, that there'd be other units willing to take either of them. Knew that there were other jobs that were a bit more 9-to-5 in the force – when they were ready to consider that. Knew that Halstead was already be pursued, if he decided he wanted to make the switch. And knew too that he was nudging toward enough years and experience that if he wanted to do some of the promotion exams, he could get work toward setting himself up to settle into a supervisor role that'd let him have enough reign over his schedule most days that he'd still make it to an kiddo's Little League games some years down the road.
But also knew it'd take time and conversation and sacrifice for either – or both – of them to get on that page. Because they were still young. Because they were good cops. And they wanted to be in the field. They didn't want to be paper pushers behind a desk or dog cops on never-ending night shifts. But your stance on all that changed with marriage, with family, with children. Didn't have to happen all at once, though. It was incrementally. Through little life changes and big ones. Where you ended up ultimately making the decisions and the sacrifices that were best for your family. Even if it meant you didn't end up in your dream job. Your dreams changed after kids. Your goals. Your hopes. Your priorities.
"Don't think so," he said and caught her eyes – or at least the corner of them. "Alsp learned that in a lot of marriages – when it comes to family – the wife does most of driving. You want it to work, though, Erin, let him drive sometimes. Think you'd be surprised how it all works out. Pretty sure Halstead can figure out the directions. Get you to where you want to be. Or need to."
She let her eyes set on him. They stayed there. But then drifted back to that window. And he let them. Because it was where they wanted to be. Needed to too.
AUTHOR NOTE: Two chapters got added today. Please make sure you see the one immediately before this, The Journey. For those that have already read The Journey, some additional dialogue between Jay and Erin has been added in the middle of the chapter. So you may wish to go back and re-read that section of it. Your readership, reviews and comments are appreciated.