Martin stomped towards her, cold steel barrel pressed to her forehead, and Lana kicked hard. His knee cap gave out and her hands went to the gun. She twisted free, jerking away as the chair tilted and collapsed.
It was a struggle. His blind fury and crushing weight bearing down on her.
She got control. He reached for the weapon.
The sound of the gun going off exploded through the warehouse.
"LANA!"
Voight surged forward as the gunshot echoed. He heard his team breaching behind him. He cleared the corner and saw her, fallen still on the concrete floor.
Voight didn't comprehend what his heart did in that moment.
Martin Jackman lay half across her leg, blood rushing from a wound in his shoulder, and Lana stirred, shoving him off as he groaned in agony.
His team was on the scene, everyone moving like clockwork. "You got him?" Antonio asked, stepping by Voight, going to Lana as Erin trained her gun on the injured man, Ruzek calling for an ambulance.
Antonio checked Lana over. "Nice going, Milani." The hug he pulled her into was brief, a slight slap on the back that didn't hide his evident relief.
She smiled at him, patted Olinsky's shoulder as she passed him. Shook her shoulders out a little. Voight was just staring. He hadn't moved from his place, hadn't needed to but there was something frozen about the way he stood.
Their gazes met and his lips moved, the only part of him that wasn't betraying him.
"I'll need your report, Milani."
She nodded, "You'll have it by end of shift."
Erin insisted on driving her home. Offered to come in, hang out for a while, a little girl time to forget she had almost been shot today.
Lana politely refused. Said she was tired.
She made it til almost 8 o'clock.
Voight answered before she could barely knock.
His fingers tangled in her hair, urgent. Demanding.
She hardly noticed as he led her upstairs, felt the softness of the mattress give beneath her as he laid her down. His lips hadn't left hers. Insistent. Everything she needed to forget.
She couldn't take the guilt, couldn't shut it out, memories of the truth. She needed Voight to erase every twisted thought. Needed him to stop the voices chasing round in her head.
Voight couldn't believe she was here.
After everything that had happened. Everything that man had said to her before he placed a gun against her skull. That working for Voight made her dirty. That she deserved what was happening because of the kind of cop he was.
He was a shadow cast over the people around him and the only thing he could do to make it better was to put the darker shadows away.
But right now, with the sound of her breath and the feel of her fingertips, he didn't feel like a mistake. Like a black mark on his own record. All he felt was her.
He knows what she wants, but he can't do it. He can't be that rough, that detached. He presses into her slowly and watches her come apart beneath him, trembling, fingers tense against his skin, gripping him to her.
His lips find her neck and he can't stop the words.
"You really scared me today."
A whisper, callous so it wouldn't break. A tremor as she stilled.
Her eyes search his, full of confusion. They filled, a wave of tears that lay against her lashes, not falling, not building, completely suspended as she stared at him.
Then she shoved him hard.
He fell back, watching as she gripped the blanket and pulled it around her.
"I didn't come here for that."
She spit his own words back at him, too angry to be mocking. Her hands shook as she tugged on her clothes.
That wasn't what she needed. She wanted him to break her free of those stupid memories, not drown her in something she didn't know how to feel.
She left. Didn't look back and didn't apologize, stomped out before she really even considered what she was doing. She couldn't stay there. With that touch, how strong she had felt with him so gentle against her. Like he was breaking her down and building her back up and she did not want to want that.
She wanted to go home and forget this had ever happened.
Wanted to stop wishing she could just turn around, and go back. Give in. But she was stronger than that. Smarter than that. That only led to trouble, clouded judgment and a weakened soul. He was supposed to be a convenient distraction.
He wasn't supposed to make her care.
Voight swore, harsh. Why did he have to be so stupid? Ruin the one time she had come back. He should have kept control. Kept his distance. Gave her what she needed and let her leave without saying goodnight.
Instead he had gotten lost, in the longing she pulled out of him from somewhere buried so deep he had forgotten it was there. To be close, to be soft and together and simply held.
She hadn't asked for that. Didn't want it, clearly didn't return what he felt. He had been foolish enough to actually hold her, and it had driven her away.
Maybe he was better off. Knowing now, facing the truth that she would never be interested, not in anything real he had to give. He was a means to an end and if he couldn't fulfil that then there was no point in her coming around.
He had crossed that unspoken line and she had crossed him off of her list and he really should have seen that coming.
He wouldn't make that mistake again.
If there was one thing Voight had learned, it was not letting things show.
"I want to look into it," Lana set a report on Voight's desk, looked just past his shoulder as she spoke. "Martin Jackman's claims about his wife's death."
Voight's lips thinned. No sign of the tender way he had stared at her. No sign of anything. "We have no jurisdiction in Portland. We can't launch an actual investigation."
"I can't do nothing. Not if what Martin says is true."
Voight regarded her calmly before speaking. "If you're wrong, Milani, and this gets out, you taint the memory of a fallen officer. I can't let that happen."
Lana's nails dug into her palms. She didn't know why she had expected him to back her on this. She went to leave when he spoke again.
"That wasn't a no, Milani. Just keep it under wraps."
Lana breathed out, turned and made herself meet his eye.
"Thank you, sir."
He nodded to the door. "Dismissed."
Two weeks. Two weeks passed of barely speaking at the job, working parallel, profession and so polite Lana wanted to bite her tongue just to give her an excuse not to talk.
No one else really noticed. On the surface, nothing had changed. But Lana felt it, in the glances that weren't there, in the rigid way he said her name.
Like it was a fact. Like she wasn't even a person behind it, just a means of doing whatever task he needed done.
She wanted to be mad at him. She wanted to be furious, blame him for every bit of it but she had been the one to shove him off and put him in his place. She should be proud of it. For cutting it off when it got too involved, for saving them both the trouble.
It was the way it should have gone.
So why did it make her so angry.
Her computer chimed as she came back through the office, and Lana pulled up her email. They had taken their sweet time about it, but the Portland Police had sent her everything they had on the Jackman-Alder case.
She opened it up, started switching through the documents, the reports. None of it looked like she thought it would.
Martin's claims that Officer Alder had been responsible for the shooting of his wife Elizabeth had been thoroughly documented, investigated. Interviews and eye witness accounts, the ME's report. Nothing had been swept under the rug. Everything pointed to Officer Alder not being responsible. Ballistics wasn't even a match. The shot that had killed Elizabeth hadn't come from Alder's service weapon or his partner's. It had come from the suspect's weapon. The security camera at the gas station had caught most of the scene.
Martin had been wrong. He had tracked Alder across the country, so certain he was guilty and he was just wrong. Grief could be devastating. Aneed to place blame, find answers that weren't even real.
Lana sat back, feeling her stomach turn. She had been determined to get to the bottom of this, force justice from a broken situation and now, now it was all empty.
She couldn't stomach it. The pain in Martin's eye. The unstable loss. It pushed him to punish a man that didn't deserve it. All the while she knew there were officers that got away with the crimes they committed against the badge.
How was any of this fair.
Antonio stopped by her desk, settled on the edge of it, and gave her a grin.
"Shift is almost over. Let me buy you a drink."
Lana stared at him, a mute, uncomprehending look, and Antonio laughed.
"Relax, Lana, I'm not asking you out. I'm just want to see how you're doing." He nodded to her hands as he said it, knuckles bruised and scraped raw.
She had gone a little too hard at the punching bag this morning. She went a little too hard at it most mornings.
Lana gave a relieved chuckle, "Thanks for the offer but-"
Antonio stood, "But nothing," he pointed the file he held at her. "You and me, after shift. Don't say no."
His look was so convincing. Pleading and joking all in one, and Lana relented.
"Alright fine. One drink."
Three drinks in and Antonio was telling her to slow down, laughing at her impression of Ruzek hiding from Platt. He had never really seen her unwind like this, that flush in her cheeks and that smile like she just didn't care about the sad stuff anymore.
He had a feeling if sober her could see herself she would die from embarrassment, or blackmail him into never telling anyone. But he was enjoying himself, enjoying seeing her unwind.
"Alright, let's get you home," he chuckled as she stood, grabbed her bag and escorted her to the door. The night was clear and she wanted to walk. He figured it was good for her, walking some of it off.
She never really let on, to what she was thinking, why she was so closed off at work. Even drunk she was a fortress, but Antonio didn't press. They were friends, and he wanted to make sure she was okay. He wasn't gonna pry.
Halfway to her apartment she decided she wanted to check out a store. She headed for the steps as Antonio grabbed her arm. "Hold up."
She pulled away, caught her jacket on the end of the railing. She tried to tug it free but she was only making it worse. An all out battle ensued. Antonio let her go a minute before coming over.
"Lana. Hey, Lana," he interrupted her clumsy threats at the railing, unhooked her jacket and spun her to face him, hands on her arms. "Store's closed. We're going home."
She was frowning down at her jacket. "It's ripped."
Antonio rolled his eyes, a smile behind the exasperation. Shrugging out of his coat, he dropped it over her shoulders. "Better?"
She beamed at him, then with a sour look at the railing, Lana obediently followed him home.
Voight set his drink down as his phone buzzed. He should have turned the darn thing off. He had just sat down and he didn't feel like dealing with anything else tonight. One new voicemail was waiting for him and Voight clicked on the message.
It was from Lana.
Sounds were muffled, like a pocket dial. He would have hung up and ignored it, but he couldn't help it. His fingers wrapped around the cold glass of his drink, he took a sip, staring forward as he stayed on the line. Lana's voice came through.
"Stop it. Let me go you stupid-"
His glass clinked against the bar, splashing on his hand. She was struggling against something. He couldn't make out much more. She cursed once. A man's voice, distorted. The message ended. Voight threw some cash on the bar and shrugged into his jacket.
It may be nothing. It might not be. He was a few blocks from her place and he was going to check it out.
Lana didn't like elevators. They encouraged laziness and the close quarters limited tactical advantage. She had explained in detail during the walk up three flights of stairs. She tried to head to the fourth floor but Antonio steered her back. Her keys said 3B, he had to assume that was her apartment number.
Lana fumbled through her bag, muttering, looking for the keys that Antonio was currently fitting in to her lock. He opened the door and switched on the light.
"Come on, Milani."
She was turning sleepy, made it to the doorway then thumped her head against the frame, stood leaning against it with a groan.
"Ouch."
Antonio chuckled, "Yeah, I bet."
She pushed away from the frame, over the giddy high and now she just looked tired. She patted his arm as she passed by.
"Thanks, 'Tonio. I'm good now." He watched as she plopped slowly on to the couch, laid her head back and blinked at the ceiling. Her livingroom was bare, functional, and his lip pulled up in a wry half smile. There was much more behind what Milani presented at work than he ever would have guessed. Whatever was going on in her head, he hoped she sorted it out.
"Get some sleep, Milani."
She gave a mock salute. "Aye, aye sir."
He closed the door behind him, punched the button for the elevator and stood waiting.
"Antonio."
His back straightened instinctively at the voice, head turning to where Voight stepped off of the stairs.
"Sir," he held back his obvious surprise, "What are you doing here."
"You seen Milani?" Voight asked in response, and Antonio frowned.
"Yeah, just left her. Why."
Voight held out his phone. "This came in ten minutes ago."
He played the message, the sounds of Lana struggling and for half a moment Antonio didn't recognize it. Then he laughed.
"No, it was nothing. She walked into a railing. Fought with it a while. Must have dialed you on accident."
"So she's alright," Voight asked, pocketing his phone, and Antonio nodded.
"Yeah. Good checking in, but she's fine."
Voight shrugged. "I was in the area."
Antonio scratched his neck, "How'd you know where she lived?"
Voight just looked at him, "I know where you all live."
Antonio huffed, he should have figured that. The elevator arrived and the doors slid open, Antonio waved a good bye but was stopped by the sounds of a door opening and a tired voice.
"Antonio, you left you, oh-"
Lana's words trailed off as she spotted Voight, Antonio's jacket draped over her arm. Voight's expression turned into something tense. He gestured between the two of them.
"You two make a habit of this?"
Antonio knew the rules, no interoffice dating. Lana was stunning but he had never been interested in her like that. Didn't stop him from recognizing what this looked like though.
"We grabbed a few drinks after work," his tone was casual as he crossed for his jacket, and Lana gave him a thankful smile.
"He was making sure I got home okay."
Antonio tipped his jacket to her, nodded to Voight, and didn't linger. No need to make Voight frown any sharper than he already was.
Voight watched Antonio leave, glanced back to where Lana stood, shoulders dropped and body leaned against her door jam. She looked worn.
Two weeks. Two weeks of her pretending he didn't even exist. Two weeks of her walking around like she didn't have a care in the world. Like she had erased every unwanted touch from her mind. Nights spent wondering when that knock would sound for it to never come, like a sadistic kind of hope.
He had known it was over before it even began, but he hadn't been expecting this.
He hadn't expected to find Antonio here, had never seen anything between them and Lana sent him a frank, bitter look.
"Stop frowning. He didn't break any of your stupid rules."
Her undertone was clear, unlike you.
Voight bit back a retort, he had come here out of stupid worry and now he just looked like a fool. He should have left with Antonio.
"You were right." She dropped her head against the wall, squeezed her eyes shut like the movement had made her dizzy. Started talking midthought. "Alder was clean. Martin was wrong. I dug anyway. I screwed up."
Voight shrugged, a little surprised by the topic choice, but he wasn't too concerned about it. Lana had been as discreet as she could have been. "If there's backlash, I'll handle it."
She groaned, sliding down to the floor just to drop her head in her hands.
"I wanted him to be guilty. Got stuck on finding justice that was already found. Maybe it's a good thing I'm not really a cop anymore."
Voight grunted at that, walked to her side and nudged her foot. "Get up."
She glowered up at him, bleary eyes full of self regret, and Voight reached for her arm.
"Go inside, Milani."
She let him pull her up, guide her through the door with a firm hand on her back. Her head was swimming and she was just so tired.
Her apartment hadn't changed. Boxes still piled. Counter still bare. He moved into the kitchen and wet a paper towel, brought it to the seat she had dropped into by the table and handed it to her.
She wouldn't take it, and with a rough sigh, he knelt and pressed it against her forehead. She closed her eyes at the cool touch, lips tightening against building thought and she pushed his hand away.
"I lied."
Her eyes were clearer now. Angry. Voight simply waited. She was buried under something and she needed to get out.
Drunk, bitter, and too tired to care, Lana let the words tumble.
"On that report. About the accident. I lied. I wasn't driving." She was shaking her head, slowly, and Voight pushed to his feet.
"Your partner was." He didn't even sound surprised, and Lana gave a strangled laugh.
"It was a stupid accident, he was up for a promotion, and when he asked me to say I was driving, I don't know. I agreed."
Voight watched her fingers tangle themselves around eachother, the way her hands shook just barely. He didn't interrupt.
"We found out after, that the other driver didn't make it. Everyone said the accident had been their fault, she ran the stop sign, we weren't to blame but I couldn't stop thinking. That something wasn't right. That she didn't have to die."
She swallowed.
"A couple months later I found a bottle of pills in my partner's apartment." The words were hard to push past the knot in her throat, that sick feeling rising in her stomach. She remembered everything about that day. Holding the bottle, everything in her training telling her what she was seeing but not being able to believe it." He had had surgery a year before, and somehow, he had gotten hooked on pain killers. I never saw the signs. Had just missed that my partner was under the influence, that he had been putting us both in jeopardy every time we hit the streets."
She straightened, pushing forward, not quite looking at Voight now.
"I confronted him about it and he admitted it. Said the accident had been a wake up call and he would get help. That he wasn't going to do it anymore... and I believed him," she muttered.
Voight's hands rested on the table beside her, head hanging as he listened, focused on what she said.
"I didn't say anything. Because, because I don't know why." Frustration filled her voice. Embarrassment. "At the time it seemed like an impossible decision to make. He wasn't at fault in the accident, it might have gone that exact same way no matter what. Now I can't stop thinking, if she died because he was impaired. If I could have done something and I didn't. But back then I just, I wanted to move past it. The investigation into the accident was already closed by the time I found out, there didn't seem to be any point dragging it up and when I wasn't cleared for duty I didn't want it to seem like I was making false accusations to get back at him. So I just left. And I never said a word."
"This guy," two of his fingers tapped the table, "You were involved?" His face turned to look at her beside him, and Lana nodded.
"You loved him."
Her eyes fell. "Yes," she whispered.
Yes, she had loved him. And she let it control her. Blind her. Let it make her stupid enough to keep her mouth shut when she never should have. "But I lied," her voice grew stronger. "I lied, on the job, and I covered it up. And that woman's family never got justice."
Her voice wavered and broke. She sucked in a breath, telling herself to keep it together. She needed to own up and face this. "...You do with that information what you need to."
He was silent, for four heavy seconds, and then his gaze softened in quiet understanding. "I of all people know the steps we'll go through for the people we love, Lana. Sometimes it's stuff we never thought we would do. Some of the stuff I did for Justin..." he trailed off with a lost kind of shrug.
"Do you regret it?" Lana's voice was hoarse.
"He was my son. I loved him more than anything. I will never regret helping him. I regret some of the people that got tangled up in it. But I wouldn't be who I was if I regreted it."
Tears formed and she couldn't stop them. Fell like each word of her confession and Lana pressed her fingers to her lips to hold in a sob.
He didn't regret it. Stood by the choices he had made to protect the people he loved. Why couldn't Lana do that? She had stepped up for her partner, her friend, the man she had been in love with for years and all she felt was this sickening guilt.
She didn't care that he was there, watching her fall apart. She buried her face into shaking hands and she cried.
Voight couldn't do it. Couldn't not reach for her, hold her against the guilt and grief that were pouring out of her. He stepped forward.
Her breath caught in a gasp between tears, face hidden behind her hands as he knelt in front of her.
"Lana," his hand, warm against her neck, seeing if she could focus, if she could calm but too much had come undone. Her forehead dropped against his shoulder, her tears following the curve of his neck and he felt them against his chest. She was small in his arms. Huddled into something tight and shaken. Maybe it wasn't wise, maybe it was only going to get him in trouble, but Voight did the only thing he could do.
He held her tightly and waited for this to pass.