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.
THIS CHAPTER IS A DIRECT CONTINUATION OF THE CHAPTER IMMEDIATELY BEFORE THIS — NOTCHES.
Though, right now they were having to get through an afternoon … and evening … at Voight's. And that was actually OK. Because Voight wasn't in their faces. He just … let them do their own thing.
He'd appeared a few times while Jay and Erin were occupying the couch watching the Cubs play the Yankees. He'd given them a glance. They were likely sitting too closely together or infringing on his designated spot even though he wasn't sitting in the room at the time. But Voight hadn't said anything. Just stared at the TV for a few pitches too and then wandered back to whatever he was up to in the kitchen and the backyard.
Eth had eventually reappeared from crashing out upstairs for a while. Bed-head gave away that he'd really crashed out. But they'd already known that. When he hadn't re-appeared after his piss break, Erin had gone up and checked on him only to find him zonked out. Could tell the kid needed it, though. Had been really care from the moment Jay had picked him up that morning. Truthfully, had likely been clear most of that week. Or even most of that month. Eth seemed to be running on empty and they still had like six weeks to get him through of school. Only added in the fact that they'd be going through a fucking gauntlet in June – as much as Hank let them, or at least let Erin – with his six-month follow-ups and tests and imaging for his M.S. trial. Added in with another dose of chemo if all was well. And then throw in ball season being in full swing. Eth's Confirmation, his birthday and his grad. With a whooping like two weeks he had off between when middle school finally wrapped up and when he started summer session.
Not to mention the whole fucking summer was going to be a mess. Had only needed to see two summers with Erin's family to know that was true. Going to be just a gong show this year. Weren't just dealing with Eth's Independence Day fetish thing and Voight turning into a bigger grenade than usual as they approached the anniversary of his wife's death. This year there was the whole one-year mark since Justin. Layered with Henry's birthday. And then getting Eth ready for high school.
Jay was pretty sure that Eth was at least going to be a basket case by August. But he wasn't exactly sure how Erin and Voight would pull through it either even though they seemed generally okay on any giving day. Depending on how you were measuring it. Jay wasn't exactly sure he'd define Eth as in the realm of OK these days. He had his moments but the kid just seemed … rundown, overwhelmed. And somehow he doubted that was going to get better anytime soon. Maybe not for the next four years. Or ever.
The kid had near stumbled into the front room with them. He'd stared blankly at the 9th inning on the screen – almost like he wasn't seeing it or processing what it was. But he'd finally come over to the couch when Erin had gestured at him. He hadn't been that verbal. But that's another thing he really wasn't that day. He was flying off on some other plane of existence.
And Erin had seen too. Giving his dilated eyes an examination and clearly – to Jay – making some movements in Eth's periphery to see if he was tracking anything. He wasn't.
Eth had only mumbled at her a bit until he settled against her – curling on the couch – and stared up at the screen for the last few pitches of the game as they watched the Cubs lose. Badly. Again.
Normally, Eth would have a commentary about the damn Yankees. But he hadn't. It was still almost like he wasn't entirely seeing it or processing it. He seemed much more interested in just leaning against his sister and taking the small comforts of physical affection she was giving him.
It was the sort of cuddling – that at nearly fourteen that maybe Jay would've said previously was getting a little too needy than was good for a kid his age going into high school in a school like his. The sort of thing that maybe he would've expected Voight to have put an end too. But it was the sort of measured affection and measured comfort that he'd seen Hank hand out to his kid too. Both Hank and Erin made it seem normal and natural.
It was on the list of things that Jay was still learning was normal and natural in a lot of households. Families. Because their house hadn't been a physical affection house. Definitely not from his dad. And even his mom hadn't been much of a hugger. Though, he knew he had been hugged. By her. He couldn't think of the last time him and Will had shared a hug. Not a real one – beyond more than a one-armed back slap. Likely not since they were kids.
Supposed most people could pass off the whole hugging thing with Eth as just that. That he was still in middle school. That he was a sick kid. That he still looked like a little boy even though he was pushing fourteen. That he was the youngest in the family. The baby. But Erin maintained that even if that was part of it – it wasn't it. That Hank and Camille gave hugs. That after she let them show her physical affection – they did. And Jay knew Voight still did – when she let him. And he had to Justin too. He'd seen Voight hug his adult son. Not handshakes or brief back smacks. Though those happened too. But real fucking hugs too place in that house. That family. That it was important. Important with a dad who went into a job where you just never fucking knew what could happen each day. Maybe more important now – to Eth and Erin and Voight – with the kid's mom gone and his brother. With Eth being so fucking acutely aware – and argumentatively articulate about the jobs they all worked and the potential danger it put them in while consistently pointing out statistics fed to him by Evan and spouted more at him in the news and social media.
And Jay could see that. It was important. He could see Erin's point. And Ethan's point. And Hank's point. And there was part of him that sort of hoped that some how he could figure out how to be the kind of dad who was the initiator with those hugs and physical affection. That he didn't just wait for the kid to seek it out or that that he got all awkward when it happened. Because even with Erin sometimes just that like non-intimate casual exchanges of affection felt a little strange to him. Not getting or receiving it. Just like he never knew how to receive it or reciprocate it. Like he was always wondering if he was doing it right. And how the fuck can you not know how to hug or just fucking fill personal space with another person right?
But sometimes he just wasn't sure he did. And it was made stranger in that Eth – especially – since the trip or on the trip – had started seeking that sort of casual affection from him. Giving it too. Just fucking random stuff. Leaning against him on the couch or on the plane. Not giving a shit if he tossed his legs up on the couch while they were watching a game or playing Xbox and they landed against his thigh.
And Jay had just passed some of it off – in trying to rectify it and justify it and come to terms with it in his own mind – as him becoming a caretaker of Eth's. That after you've cleaned up someone's vomit or piss or shit. When you've had to jab them with needles or have had to go and grab them their change of clothes because they didn't make it to the can in time that leaning against the other person wasn't really a big deal. That is shouldn't be.
But it sort of was. And it was another thing that had been put into perspective for Jay since that trip too.
Their pool day. Eth had just been obsessed with that pool. Fuck, they were going down most nights just for him to take a ten-minute dip. Which wasn't so bad since: 1) Florida in spring was fucking hot and it was worth it to cool down. And, 2) it meant he got to see Erin in a bikini and there really wasn't much wrong with that. But that particular day they'd designated a chunk of the day at the hotel to just try to get the kid to rest and to keep him from either flaring up his M.S. or flaring out with exhaustion.
Eth had been perfectly happy just floating around and around the lazy river, though. Jay had stuck by him through a chunk of it. Erin was in and out. She'd lazy in the inner tube for a lap or two and then go and dry off and sun on a lounger – drowse – and then find them again in the river. Jay had been getting a little tired of doing the laps. He'd been ready to go and join Erin in the lounger. Or to make a trip over to the pool-side bar and get them some drinks. Let Eth float on his own or screw around in the pool or go down the slides a couple times on his own. But just when he'd been about ready to bail on the kid when they floated passed the next ladder exit to get his out – Eth had made some near passing comment about how the warmth of the water and the sense of weightlessness it created was about the only time – the only way – his legs, his whole body – felt whole again. Like he didn't feel as clumsy. The pain didn't feel as intense or crippling. He felt like he was on the same level as everyone else just clinging to that tube and letting the current drag them around and around.
Jay had known Eth lived in pain. He could see it. But it'd been this stark moment where it just slapped him in the face how much the kid pushed through it – and so much more – each and every fucking day. That he was pushing through it that trip. That he did at school. And at ball. And in every fucking thing he did to try to keep up with other kids and to keep up with his family. And to just be "normal". Or to try to appear "normal".
And for all those days that Eth didn't go purposely or actively looking for physical affection and comfort – the ones he did. The ones where he leaned against his sister or his dad or him – he was hurting. He was hurting so bad that he was just hoping that he could absorb some sort of strength or comfort from them that the pain would numb a bit for at least a while. He wasn't being sucky. He wasn't looking to get coddled. He wasn't being a baby or not acting his age. He was just trying to find some relief when all else had failed. And the medical system – fucking pharmaceuticals and science and health research – it seemed to be failing him.
It was that afternoon. Or day. Or week. Or month. Or year. Or the kid's whole fucking life. Because being brain damaged wasn't enough. He was going to have to wade through this fucking mess of multiple sclerosis too. And sometimes that was fucking scary. Erin didn't like to talk about it much, though sometimes she did. And, Jay knew she knew just as much about M.S. as him – if not more. That she'd read just as much as him – if not more. And there were scary statistics and numbers out there. Scary facts. And even scarier when there was no cure. When they only knew so much about the disease. And they knew even less about the particular retaliation of it that Ethan had. And just a fucking minuscule about pediatric M.S. to begin with.
But the stats and figures weren't great. That up to sixty percent of people with M.S. died from complications from it. And these were adults – diagnosed in their 30s or 40s or 50s or 60s. Pneumonia, bladder infections, sepsis. All things that Ethan had already experienced since his diagnosis. Some more than once. Suffocation and breathing problems from troubles swallow. Choking on your own salvia. Food going down the wrong pipes – cause aspiration and affixation. Ethan had been there too.
Calculations seemed to suggest that people – adults – with M.S. died up to four or seven or even fourteen years sooner than the non-M.S. population. That they weren't sure with kids but they thought that it was likely more like double that. That Ethan could die up to thirty years younger than the average population. That he might get to his fifties – if he was lucky.
And there was this stark realization that Erin – him – they'd likely outlive Ethan. There was an even starker reality that Voight – a guy who allegedly didn't get sick and hadn't been sick a day in his life and seemed built like a bulldog and stronger than a horse. That if a hit or a stray bullet or some other force of nature or psychopath didn't get in the way – that Voight could theoretically out live his youngest son. And, somehow Jay knew too with the kind of man he was learning Hank Voight was – the father he was – the guy would try his damnedest to do that. To push into his 90s. To be there for his son right up until Eth's end so he wouldn't have to be alone in that. He'd do it for Eth. And for his wife. And for Erin. Because the end stages of M.S. sounded … messy. And no one should have to be alone in that.
Jay had seen some of the mess of end of life. Of the months leading up to it. He hadn't been there as well as he should've been. But he'd seen enough to know that the end of life in illness and disease wasn't pretty. And it never looked easy. It never went as fast as you wanted it to just let your loved one die with some dignity. To not have to be in that pain anymore. Even though you so wanted them to cling on for longer.
He'd made the mistake of reading about late stages of M.S. And, even though he and Eirn hadn't talked about that – he was certain that her and Hank must have too. He could see it in them. On days … afternoons, evenings … like this. Where you could tell Eth was off and he wasn't hurting and there was just so much you could do and all kinds of things you couldn't. So you just tried to be there and hold him a bit tighter. As much as you could without hurting him.
Because as this disease progressed through his body – through his neurological system and left a path of inflammation that his immune system couldn't figure out what to do with beyond to the point it confusedly attacked itself – he'd ultimately end up more crippled than he was. That he'd likely be confined to a wheelchair – if this trail and his own going treatment didn't stop or significantly slow down the progression. If some cure wasn't found. That he'd probably be covered in bedsores from how much he was stuck in that chair or that couch or bed. Sores that might appear begin but could lead to more infection that his body wouldn't know what to do with and just wouldn't be able to cope. That he'd likely need a catheter in permanently and there'd have to be constant monitoring of his kidneys and urinary tract and bladder to make sure there wasn't more infection spreading there. That his tremor would get worse and he would need more help with feeding himself than just people occasionally having to cut up his food on bad days. That he'd need help clothing himself and bathing himself. More than he already did on his bad days. That eating and drinking would be challenging enough as he developed difficulties with swallowing and there'd have to be constant diligence. Or he'd have to have a feeding tube inserted. That he'd be in pain and strung out on medication to manage it. And he'd likely end up having to be placed in a care home or hospice where he was far younger than anyone else. And all this would be happening while his cognitive function was still there.
It sort of made you happy that Eth struggled so much with reading and reading comprehension. Because Jay sure as fuck didn't want the kid to be going online and reading about any of this shit. That he had to fucking pray – and he didn't do that much anymore – that his little know-it-all friend, Evan, didn't go reading up on M.S. and feeding Eth this information. Because the kid just didn't need to know it. Not know. He had enough on his plate and knew he was looking down enough of barrel in knowing he had a life of chronic illness ahead of him. He didn't need to have neatly laid out what it could look like – be like – when … if … it all just went to shit.
Because there was another fucking scary number attached to M.S. patients – and what showed up on their death certificates. That a lot of studies were showing that up to 13 percent of M.S. patients committed suicide. That M.S. patients had a suicide rate up to six times higher than the general population. And these were adults. Not some kid with brain damage that already affected how they processed thoughts and emotions and could be fucking volatile. Not teenagers who were volatile anyway. Not kids in high school struggling with bullying and fitting in. Not a kid who'd lost their mom and brother before they even hit fourteen. Not a kid who already struggled with anxiety and depression – and he had every reason too, because honestly Jay might be more concerned if Eth didn't have those labels with everything he'd already experienced in his life. And not a kid who still had to make it through at least forty years – hopefully more – of life where he had pain and tremor and nausea and fatigue and brain fog and urinary inconsistence and picking up every kind of little bug that went around and usually ending up in the hospital with it and had to deal with pills and injections and poking and prodding.
Jay didn't want to know what the figure was for kids who had M.S. and decided to take their own lives. He didn't want to cast those kind of thoughts toward Ethan. Instead, there was just this underlying reality that they had to remain vigilant. Watch for signs. And just try to make it better.
But how the fuck do you make any of it better? And sometimes all that was hard to resolve in your head too. Because a lot of the times – now – he was label to look passed Eth's illness. He was able to frame him as a kid and a teenager. A middle schooler who was going to be a Freshman in the fall. A kid who wanted to be active and ride his bike and play ball. A kid who fished and wanted to be outside every chance he got. A kid who had interests and aspirations. And sometimes it was easier to just think about all of that. Because then it was easier to treat him like a kid. To get pissed at him and to tell him off when he was being a fucking brat. When he was being an obnoxious kid. To just treat him normal.
But he wasn't normal. And his life wasn't going to look normal. And by extension, Jay knew that by buying into his relationship with Erin, he'd bought into this. He'd signed up for it. And that was hard. Because he couldn't fix this any better than she could. Or Voight could. He couldn't save Eth. And that was hard. It fucking hurt.
So instead you had to try to make it better. Something that you really couldn't. So instead you did what Erin did that afternoon. You spotted the signs that he was awful. You made judgments about how off he was and what it meant. And then you just did what you could. And some days – a lot of days – that was just sitting with him on the couch and holding him. Just fucking being there.
It seemed to be that mantra of that family. Be there for them. And maybe that was something that Jay hadn't had at home either. But it was something he wanted to be now. That he could be now. For Eth. And for Erin. And for the family they made.
AUTHOR NOTE: More diarrhea. Getting closer to where this chapter had been intended to go.
Reviews, feedback and comments are appreciated.