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," Erin called at him and he gave her a bit of a glance from where he was looking at the fucking ridiculously priced half-zip sweater.
Seventy-fucking-dollars for a sweater that he knew his kid would outgrow. But at least it looked warm. And it looked like something that Magoo might actually fucking wear. Maybe without the fucking battle they had all fucking winter about him putting on the pull-over or the sweater vest or the turtleneck or the fucking blazer. But no – the kid would rather kick around in just the oxfords and freeze and complain about being freezing – than put on any of that shit. Not that he entirely blamed him. Between the school's colors and the uniform attire, he did look like a bit of a dipshit on school days. But that was part of the price you paid to get a fucking Jesuit education apparently. Erin and J both survived it and managed to enter adulthood as slovenly as ever anyway.
His girl was over at some other rack in the school's little uniform and spirit shop they'd stepped into between their fucking meetings. Had only planned on there being the one meeting with the kid's academic counselor. But apparently Caruso wanted to see him. Couldn't be good news. If whatever Frank had to say was about to make all the fucking time and effort and negotiation and battle of the wills that had gone on in his dining room to get E ready for the meeting with the fucking academic counselor in getting him slotted up for his Freshman year – not to mention enduring that fucking meeting itself – obsolete. And he was going be some pissed off if it did.
Erin held up a shirt at him. "Did you see they'd got sleeved polos now?" she asked. "Two colors."
He grunted and moved away from sorting through the shelf piled with the sweaters. Didn't look like they had Magoo's size sitting there anyway. Might ask about getting one ordered in. Moving out of that area got him away from his son who kept shoving some fucking reversible sweatshirt in his face that he seemed to think he needed, even though the piece of clothing was only approved attire on Spirit Days, and he figured the price tag on the fucking thing was about as bad as the sweaters he could wear any day of the year. Besides, got him a fleece and a hoodie already for Spirit Days and after-bells. Wasn't planning on investing anymore in that shit until he outgrew it, wore holes in it, or got roistered on one of the sports teams at the school and needed some of the more casual gear for in the gym and game days and pep rallies and the crap. But really doubted that would ever happen. School might be willing to accommodate Ethan enough to let him try-out for the team and maybe even would make him some fucking charity case on the bench – water boy or some shit. But his boy wanted to play – not sit on the sidelines. So his athletic life, they'd be keeping over at RIC. Ignatius' loss.
"Dad …," Ethan whined at him as he moved away from the display.
"You want that shirt, you got allowance," he rasped at him.
"But you always say you take care of uniform stuff," he moaned harder.
"That's not part of the uniform," Hank provided. E just huffed and stayed over at the sweater display. "Put it back," he ordered of the sweatshirt the kid had crumpled up in a ball on top of the pile, like he was going to leave it there for someone else to take back to its rightful rack.
Got another huff, but listened. Wasn't going to risk them putting on a show at school.
He joined Erin at the rack she was flipping, through. Clearly taking stock of the sizes in the store too. Burgundy and white options. But it didn't look like she was having much luck in finding sizes in either that she thought would be an appropriate fit on her kid brother.
"How much?" Hank asked, reaching to draw up the sleeve of one in search of a tag.
"Thirty-five," she muttered but rubbed her fingers against the material of the sleeve he was holding. "But they feel thick. Warm."
He grunted and looked over his shoulder at the kid at the counter. Likely a Senior. Looked sort of unhappy about catching the early shift. But suspected the shop was being manned some extra hours these next few weeks with parents in-and-out of the school trying to somehow predict their kids' future ambitions and successes and plan for them. Might be able to do that to a fucking minuscule point by the time they were hitting Junior or Senior year. But trying to figure that out and get your kid to buy into it without just completely overwhelming them when they were fucking thirteen and just headed into Grade Nine? Headache. All the extra foot traffic in the school was likely a headache for the staff too, though. Hence the kid at the counter and not just the secretary scurrying back-and-forth. Kid was likely earning some volunteer hours or was a low-income kid too trying to get his family some dollars off their tuition dues. Or maybe he really was a Richie-Rich and didn't really need the service hours or the cash and that's why he looked like he thought he should be just about anywhere. Though, got the impression the kid would've preferred it be still at home in bed.
"These part of the regular uniform now?" he graveled at the kid.
The kid managed a nod. "Yea," he mumbled. "Just can't wear them on Mass days. And, I think not on Assembly days or during Open House visits. Maybe."
Hank allowed a little grunt and looked back at them. "What other regs they got on them?"
"Ah …," the kid thought aloud like it was a real tough question. Shouldn't be. The kid was wearing one of the things. Think he'd know. But, instead he reached and pulled some binder over in front of him and flipped through it a bit. Back-and-forth until he settled on a section. "Can't roll up the sleeves. One button max undone," he recited in disinterested monotone. "Plain white t-shirt allowed underneath, not turtlenecks. Can wear either of them on Spirit Days, Pep Rallies and before and after bells with the zip-up fleece," he mumbled and dismissively gestured at a rack of the things, despite Eth clearly already wearing one. "Can wear the white with the crewneck sweater."
The kid shut the binder and shoved it back to its place on the opposite side of the cash. Voight just smacked at him.
"There something you can't wear it with?" he put bluntly.
The kid gave him an annoyed sound and slide the binder back, again flipping around and muttering, "Anything I didn't list that you could" under his breath. But after he found the page again, he provided starkly, "Can't wear it with the v-necks, the vests, the cardigans or the blazers. And don't wear a tie with it." He smacked the binder shut more firmly, casting him a look.
Voight kept the brat's eyes and pointed back across to the half-zip wovens. "What about those?"
The kid let out a breath like answering that question was some sort of even greater burden on him. "Those are basically brand new," he said. "Not in the code yet. So maybe. Or no."
Voight kept eyes with the kid, pressing his tongue in his cheek and making sure his displeasure at the lack of professionalism the student was showing in his little part-time job was apparent. But then with a last smack he looked back over to his son.
"Magoo," he called and nodded for him to join them.
Kid did – almost too quickly – and hissed at him, "Dad, don't call me that here."
Hank just grunted. Knew his boy was at the age he needed to start being more careful about that. Had been expressing increasing bashfulness about his nickname. Really had been since boarding school but the reminders he didn't want people to know that was the pet-name he'd grown up with had been more frequent since the summer. Hard, though, to just shut-off something like that. And supposed didn't even matter much if he checked himself. E would always be Magoo to him. Barely a week old when he'd gotten slagged with that name by his mom. Little guy had just looked like a real Mr. Magoo then. But, he'd grown into a Magoo all of his own by now.
"Would you wear these?" he put to his kid.
"I don't know," Ethan shrugged. "I guess."
"They're a lot thicker than the button-downs, Ethan," Erin put to him firmly.
He just gave her a shrug too. But she only raised her eyebrow at him and reached to yank up the back of his collar.
"Hey …!" E protested and gave her an embarrassed look, glancing around to see if anyone had seen that he had family who were trying to clothe him more warmly.
Erin kept his eyes. "You going to let me check your size or you want me measuring these against your back?"
He huffed at her but reached and tried to roll up his collar and pull it around his neck so he could look at it himself. But Erin just yanked it more firmly and gazed down his collar, pressing her thumb down the tag.
"Should be a Boys 12," Hank provided.
She made a sound and yet go of her brother, looking back to the shirts on the rack. "Yea," she allowed, flipping through the shirts again. "But he's usually about a medium or a large and these look huge."
"They're likely all normal sizes, not kid sizes," the kid at the counter called over, apparently eavesdropping but deciding to be semi-helpful. "They're pretty new too. All the middle schooler parents keeping buying out the stock …"
Hank grunted. Figured. Getting pre-teen kids into a shirt like this and keeping it clean and unwrinkled would be a hell of a lot easier than the fucking Oxford button-downs.
Erin cast him a look. "Thanks …," she allowed.
Hank ran his hand over the top of the hangers on the side he was standing on. "Doesn't look like they got any smalls in the red."
"Burgundy," Ethan corrected.
Caught his boy's eyes in quiet warning about getting into too much talkback again. Eth had managed to do enough of that in the little show they put on for his academic counselor in trying to get him all queued up for his preferred courses. Would have to see what happened, because the counselor sure didn't seem that impressed with some of the options and tracks they were pushing for. And it'd been made pretty clear that she wasn't going to give them any promises or guarantees until after all Ethan's grades and final testing from Grade 8 came in. And added all too patronizingly that if E was going to register for the math track Hank wanted him in, then he was going to have to do an exam to prove he was capable of managing that stream. Not to mention the woman had put up arguments about the science pairings E wanted to start going down, the language he'd picked out as what he thought he wanted to earn his mandatory high school credits in, and his fucking elective.
Ended up in Ethan giving her a whole lot of attitude. But she'd been giving it to them too. Tit for tat. But still. Didn't like his kid treating adults that way. Had tried to get him to straighten out a bit. That'd only gotten the attitude and talkback directed his and Erin's way.
Sort of knew that was coming, though. Kid had been pretty frustrated with the whole process of going through the curriculum guide and trying to understand his various options and the credits he needed to get for a diploma at the end of his four years. Trying to wrap his head around college credits and advanced placement and honors society credits. Wanting to jump ahead and take things that weren't available to freshman and being upset with the lack of flexibility in the freshman selections and just overwhelmed with the whole process. Reading the course descriptions and worrying about if he'd be smart enough or what the workload would be. Trying to fucking map out his entire high school career to pick out courses in his freshman year that would lead to him having doors open to him in later years of his high school career.
There'd been some tears and some yelling. Bit of a teen-aged meltdown in their kitchen as him and Erin tried to work through it with him. Figure it out and give him assurances that it would all work out. That picking a course you ended up hating in Grade 9 wasn't the end of the world and didn't mean you were stuck on some path for the rest of your life. Lots of reminders that he was smart enough that they'd all get through this together – eventually. It might just take him a bit longer than some kids and be a bit harder for him. And more work – for all of them. But he'd get there. But had definitely had to watch his kid deflate a bit as they worked at figuring out how they were going to enroll him. And knew it was going to be something he'd stew about and stew about right up until he got his schedule and then stew even more until he got there on the first day. And knew too that they'd like be spending the majority of the first semester giving him constant pep talks and near hauling his ass through all the course work until he found his footing and garnered some confidence in his abilities to function as a high school student.
Would've hoped that the guidance counselor would've worked at inflating him up a bit while they were in front of her. But she hadn't. She used the meeting as a reality check. Kept talking down to them and lecturing them. Reached the point that Hank had decided they were leaving early and just told her to file the paperwork the way they'd ticked it all off. They weren't making any changes. Wouldn't even consider going another route until E's grades and testing came back and they had some sort of validated argument that his son couldn't be doing what his family had spent fucking hours working out.
He'd forgotten how much fucking work it was getting kids sorted on their high school courses. Likely was that J and Erin just hadn't really given a shit. And there wouldn't have been all these other considerations and arguments about why they couldn't or shouldn't take something. There might've been with Erin. Until they got some of her records sorted and she'd begrudgingly did some of Ignatius' placement testing. But she also given really seem to put up a fuss about what classrooms she ended up in.
Or maybe things had just gotten a lot more complicated since his older two were in high school. All these tech and communications and multimedia courses that he didn't remember being options in quite the same way they were laid out now. Or maybe Camille had really just taken the lead. Had it all figured out before they sat down with the kids to hear them out and fill out any paperwork. That was more than likely too.
Did know he was glad Erin had agreed – and seemed to want – to participated in the process. Had definitely needed some back-up in getting Magoo settled into the plan. And some of the curriculum guide might has well have been written in another language. So had been glad to have her there to help crack the fucking code and figure out what connected to what in the end too. Needed a fucking flow chart for some of the subject areas. Math and science. Almost needed a fucking degree to understand how they expected the kids to move through that sequence of courses during high school.
"He'll likely need an extra-small," Erin muttered, still flipping through the whites.
Hank grunted and looked back to the kid at the counter. "You take orders?"
He shrugged. "Sure. But you could just do it online," he said in this way that made it clear that would be his preference. That way he didn't have to take any of your info or deal with any of your cash or will out any paperwork or forms or you online. Basically, he could keep standing there with his thumb up his ass.
"Got one," Erin said and pulled out a shirt. It still looked huge.
"That an xs?" Hank shook his head. Wasn't even a point in trying it on.
"Small," Erin said and held it up at her brother, who again cringed away from the intrusion and glanced around like someone might see.
He grunted. He'd grow into it eventually – hopefully sooner rather than later. But Ignatius didn't give you much leeway with that, even though you were purchasing for growing kids. Most of them right in the midst of growth spurts happening in rapid succession. And some families sure as fuck couldn't manage to buy $70 sweaters multiple times throughout their kids academic careers. School didn't seem to much care, though. Wanted the sizing to fit neatly. Even a little baggy and the kid could end up sent home on a uniform violation and sitting out a JUG in detention. Hadn't had to deal with that with Magoo. But J and Erin? Those two had both fucking excelled at uniform violations. Erin had racked up enough of them that she'd graduated from after-school JUG time to full-on Saturday detention. The real fucking Breakfast Club.
"Hank," he heard called at him again and turned to see Caruso's secretary. "Frank's ready to see you now." The woman gave Erin a thin, phony smile. "Hello, Erin."
Erin barely met her eyes and gave just a curt nod. Not a word. His girl hadn't much liked that old busybody back in her Ignatius days and not a whole lot had changed on that front. But now there wasn't a lot the old broad could do about it beyond let that fake smile turn into a scowl. "I think Father Caruso only needed to speak with you," she put to him more directly, though her eyes remained on Ethan and Erin. Both of them weren't paying her any mind, though.
"Try it on," he put to his boy and gave Erin a nod. "See how it fits. Guesstimate the best size. We'll get one of each on the order."
She gave a little nod and thrust the shirt at her brother who balked about having to go behind the curtain to change out his clothes. But he let her deal with that. She was good at shutting it down. And, really, Eth should be fucking thrilled to be getting these polos. Pull them on. No more of this fucking struggle with the buttons as he tremored after his morning shower every day.
So he just followed Ms. Fuddle-Duddle back into the main office area. She glanced at him and gave him another one of her fake smiles. "How's your grandson?"
"Good," he grunted. Didn't much feel the need to get chatty with her either. Didn't need to either, because Frank was already at his office door when they got in there.
Gave him a slightly more genuine smile. "Hank," he greeted, and gestured inside.
"Frank," he allowed and stepped in. Took a seat without waiting to be offered on, as Caruso closed the door. Got himself all arranged. Command the space. Didn't need to be the one behind the desk to own the room. Though, could tell with the way Frank got himself sat down, he was trying real hard to own it.
"Everything all sorted with Ethan?" the padre tried. Still smiling but felt a bit more disingenuous at that point.
Hank shrugged. "Sure," he provided. "Hope you aren't planning on telling me that little exercise was all some horse and pony show."
Frank shook his head firmly. "No, no. Nothing like that," he said, holding up his hand in a false-pretense. "I just do hope you took the recommendations from Ethan's teachers and aides into consideration when you were helping him select his course."
He smacked. "Sure," he confirmed. "He won't be looking at anything advanced placement and we all know he's not a fucking honors student."
Frank allowed him a patronizing smile. "But some of their actual course recommendations? For his track? Particularly in his languages. And math and science …"
Hank shoved tongue into his cheek and stared down the guy. Pretty clear the little delay in him getting called into that space was so he could get a briefing from the academic counselor, who clearly said they weren't doing what they were supposed to be doing. But fuck that. They'd do things their way. They'd do it E's way. And they'd make it work. That's the only way any of this shit could work.
"Told her," he nodded at him, "and I've told you before – I'm not going to tell me kid there's some class he shouldn't be taking if the only reasoning is that he might need some extra help and extra time."
"Hank," Frank sighed. "We're just trying to make Ethan's transition to high school – and his entire high school career – as easy as possible."
Hank shook his head. "He doesn't need things to be as easy as possible. He just needs the time and some reasonable accommodation to get the work done – and he'll get it done."
Frank sighed at him and slumped forward on his desk, resting his elbows there and rubbing at his eyebrows. "OK … my preference would be to listen to course recommendations from his teachers and his educational aides and his academic counselor, because then, Hank, we could get him slotted into those exact course and we could all start working together on his IEP for the year and figuring out exactly what kind of accommodations it is that Ethan will need."
Hank gave a little nod, "Well, my preference, Padre, is that you get my son slotted for the placement exams for his math and science. And, after I'd be happy to discuss his IEP with all your people here."
Frank rubbed at his eyebrow more and held up his hand to stop. "I'm not going to argue with you about it. We were all just trying to make this as easy as possible for your family."
"Frank, Ethan's lived enough life that he knows it's not easy," he nodded at him.
"OK …," Frank sighed. Hank grunted and moved to get up to leave. "I actually had intended to talk to you about something else," he interjected. And he let himself settle a bit, giving him a smack. "It's been noted that Ethan hasn't returned the paperwork for the Grade 8 retreat."
Hank shrugged. "Don't see much point in shelling out sixty bucks on a Confirmation retreat when he's not getting confirmed."
Frank let out a slow breath and sat back in his chair staring at him. "Hank, you know he's been preparing for his Confirmation with the rest of his class."
"Frank, know the religious indoctrination is part of the Ignatius experience. Don't have any problem with him sitting through the religion classes or going to the masses. But I'm not signing off on him joining the church."
"Hank, you are constantly," Frank started but Voight smacked at that and the guy toned it down a bit, "suggesting that Ethan doesn't feel that he's recognized as a member of our community. And, yet, here is the perfect opportunity to –"
"He's not getting confirmed," Hank pressed out again. "We don't practice religion at home. Getting confirmed is not anything he's expressed any interest in—"
"He has picked his saint name," Caruso argued.
"Because it was a classroom assignment," Hank nodded at him. "And we make sure my son completes his projects and homework."
"Hank," Frank argued again. "I can understand that your family might feel very disillusioned, but-"
He shook his head. "Frank, don't start with the liturgy. Don't need to hear it. Decision's been made."
"Camille—"
"Don't do that either," he smacked.
"I just don't want Ethan to miss out on—"
"My son's soul doesn't need saving, Frank."
"But he might find some strength in—"
Hank rose, looking down at him. "That all?"
Caruso sat back in his chair gave him a little shrug. But all it was Voight needed and he moved toward the door, reaching to open it himself, stopping just short. Turned back to the guy he'd grown-up with. Funny how you never know which ones from your youth you're going to still need to be interacting with in adulthood. The when and the how. What all that means. When there's history.
"Heard acceptance letters get sent out today," he put to the guy. Frank just gave him a slight nod. "Evalyn Gaines going to be getting one?"
Caruso tapped the fingertips of his clasped hands together. "I'm not involved in sending out the letters."
Hank grunted and gestured through the crack in the door he'd opened. "They sitting on her desk?"
"All our applicants receive letters whether they are accepted or not," Frank said flatly.
"Oh, but I'm sure we could figure out pretty quickly if it was an acceptance or rejection letter based on the bulk of the envelope, couldn't we?" he nodded.
Frank sighed at him. "Hank, I know you wrote the girl a character reference. But, I can't—"
"Then I guess you saw the rest of her application," he nodded at the guy. "Saw glowing reviews from her teachers and principal. Her coach. At the Rehab Center. Report cards with top marks. And a pretty eloquent essay for a thirteen-year-old girl about the kind of hell she's gone through so far in her life but all the fucking optimism and ambition she has for her future and the service she wants to be to this community – this city. And a statement from her father and grandmother telling you how much they support her, and believe in her, and how much her admission to Ignatius would mean to that whole family."
"She put together a very compelling application package," Caruso said so fucking flatly.
"She's a nice, bright, hard-working kid," he told him.
"And your son's only friend?" Frank asked – rhetorically.
Hank smacked at him. "I've had kids at Ignatius for ten years now, Frank. When have I ever written a letter of recommendation for anyone? Tried to get any kid in here but my own?"
"Hank, I have no control over the Board's decis—"
"You sit on the fucking Board, Frank," Hank spat at him.
Frank glared at him. "And what am I supposed to tell them, Hank? That we should let this girl in because you said so?"
"She has a whole lot more people rooting for her than just me," he said.
"But this would be another favor to you? To your family?" Frank pressed. "When I already have to explain to them why our school community is subsidizing the education of a family that does not participate in the church or our community. A family that some people feel does not reflect St. Ignatius' morals and values—"
Hank made a noise at that and shook his head. "That's very Christian of them," he nodded at the guy. "Good Catholics."
Frank just sighed and shook his head, looking down at his desk. Hank walked back over and pressed his finger into the desktop he was fascinated with.
"They want to spout that about me, or my son, or this little girl – then you remind them of all Camille did for this school—"
"Camille's been gone a long time, Hank," Frank said sadly.
Hank's face creased and smacked, pointing his finger into the desk even harder. "Remind them who's card you pull out and call when some little Richie Rich does something that's not so reflective of Ignatius' values. And who helps keep that family's name and this school's name and the fucking church out of the papers. Get the mess cleaned up before it's a real public mess."
Frank let out a slow breath and shared his brutal stare. "Get Ethan confirmed," he finally said and shook his head defensively. "It shows support to our community and the church. And some of the funding and budget allocations we receive are based on—"
"Is Evalyn Gaines getting an acceptance letter?" he barked back at him.
Frank's eyes danced at him with anger mingled with a touch of fear but he managed to shake out, "Yes."
Hank nodded and reached for his wallet, pulling out three twenties to fund the fucking Confirmation retreat, and holding them in front of Frank. The priest reached for them but Voight pulled them back slightly. "That girl better be getting an offer of some kind of tuition assistance real soon too if you actually want to have Ethan kneeling in front of the bishop."
He dropped the money on the desk and headed for the door, yanking it open. He went to Ms. Fuddle-Duddle's desk and gazed over it. Could see two postal boxes stacked with letter- and business-sized envelopes.
"Need you to dig me Evalyn Gaines' out of there," he put to her. She gaped at him and her eye's found Caruso's who'd come to his office door.
But he just shook his head. "It's OK," he said. "Get it."
The woman looked like she thought her office space had just been infiltrated by a terrorist. But she rolled her chair over and managed to bend over her rounded stomach to dig down into the bin with the bigger envelopes and straightened, pulling out an envelope and handing it to him.
Hank took a look at the mailing label and then tapped it on the divider in front of her desk, giving her one of the phony smiles she liked to hand out so much.
"Gonna make sure this gets hand delivered for you," he said and cast Frank a look. "You all have a blessed day."
Clearly E would really be starting high school on the right foot. But at least he was going to have someone walking there beside him while he took those steps.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Feedback and reviews are appreciated. And motivating to actually make me want to keep trying with this AU.