Antonio rapped twice, sticking his head in at Voight's call.
"What's up?" Voight asked. Shift had been quiet and long, whatever interruption Antonio had was a welcome one.
"Platt's sending up a visitor for you."
Voight pushed up from his desk. He hadn't been expecting anyone, and the man that stepped off the stairs was a stranger.
"Sergeant Voight?" the man extended a hand, his teeth flashing white as he smiled, "I'm Detective Watts."
"What can I do for you?" Voight asked, shaking the offered hand. Antonio perched on the edge of his desk.
"I'm here about Officer Milani."
Antonio's brow crinkled as he bit into an apple, and he watched Voight's arms fold.
Voight set back on his heels. "What about her?"
The detective adjusted the sleeve of his suit jacket, the kind that was subtly nicer than your average detective's. "I have a position for her."
"She already has a position." Antonio spoke around the apple in his mouth, and Voight sent him a look that questioned why he was including himself in this conversation.
"Yes, I understand that." The detective slipped his hands in his back pockets, casual, "We have started a similar unit to Intelligence back in Miami, and we would like her to be a part of our team. Her experience there would be helpful."
"Her experience is helpful. Here." Antonio interjected again, and didn't even wait for Voight to scowl at him. He held his hands up in submission and walked around to his chair. Whoever this guy was, Voight would sort him out.
But Voight didn't respond. He had gone a very unsettling type of quiet, and Antonio was suddenly wondering if he had been listening to a word this detective said.
"Well," Detective Watts drug out the word, facing Antonio now, "I understand your hesitancy to lose Officer Milani, she's a fine asset to any team. I'm just not certain her personal ideals and this team," he glanced at Voight as he spoke, "are the best match."
And it was there in his eyes, that judgement. Watts had done his homework, it seemed, knew what kind of unit it was Voight handled, and didn't think Milani wanted to be anywhere near it.
"Did Milani actually say that?" Antonio demanded. He had been irritated all day and this detective was ticking him off. The man gave an allowing shrug.
"I haven't had an opportunity to discuss it with her yet. I was speaking from former experience."
Voight stopped Antonio from replying. His tone was very steady, but his eyes were cold. "If Officer Milani accepts the position I will approve the transfer. When she informs me it is necessary."
"Of course," Watts gestured like that was only natural. "Well I was hoping to find her here to discuss it but it would seem she's out. I can come back another time."
Antonio was more than eager to show him out. But they reached the stairs as Milani stepped off of them and the way she froze spoke volumes.
Her lips moved once, silent, gaze flicked to Antonio's with a single question in her eyes.
"Eric?..." she shook her head like clearing it would make this make sense, "What are you doing here?"
"Ah, there you are!" There was delight in his voice, something boyish about the way his eyes lit up. History lay heavy in the air between them and Antonio was looking back and forth like he wanted to know every detail.
Eric moved towards her and Lana raised a single finger.
"Don't."
Antonio's shoulders dropped, protective at the tremor of her voice, but it was Voight who interrupted them. Standing in the background. Unnoticed. Watchful. The pieces clicked together in his mind.
"Milani. My office. Now."
She passed by Eric, by Antonio. Voight motioned her forward and she entered his office with barely a glance at him. Began pacing the small inner space in agitation as he closed the door.
"That your old partner?" Voight nodded to the closed door and Lana's gaze darted to his.
"Yeah."
She still paced, arm folded and hand raised, fingers against her lips. "What is he doing here," she muttered. Distracted. Angry.
Voight shook his head. "Deal with this somewhere else, Milani."
There was a slight warning in his tone. It had her stopping. Posture stiffening. She faced him with biting, intentional calm.
"Yes sir. I'll keep my drama out of your work space." She went for the door but his hand met the handle before hers could.
"That's not it, Milani." He looked down at her, an inch from his arm. "You need to say what needs to be said to that guy without it coming back on you. You can't do that here."
Voight's hard logic was enough to make her calm. Telling Eric off in front of everyone wouldn't do her any good. "So what now," her eyes lifted to his own, near enough he could see the confusion tempering the anger in her gaze. The ring of brown so deep it was almost black. "I just tell him to get lost?" Her lips curled in a half attempt at a smile.
"You have a way of contacting him?" Voight asked simply, and she frowned.
"Yes. Why."
His hand took her arm, drawing her away from the door. "Wait here."
Lana didn't know what he was going to do. But she didn't argue.
Voight rejoined Antonio, who stood staring down the detective with the kind of silence that would have made anyone uncomfortable.
"I need Milani on a case. You can discuss what you need to after shift."
Eric looked like he wanted to argue, but it was obvious neither of them were going to be very receptive at the moment.
Antonio looked at Voight as Eric walked away. "What was that about?"
Voight shrugged, "that's Milani's business."
"Yeah, but she clearly-" Antonio cut his protest short. Whatever Lana's past was with that guy, Voight probably didn't have any interest in getting involved. He had stepped in just enough to keep his office space controlled. Antonio would check on Lana later.
Lana was at the window when Voight stepped back in.
"He's gone."
"Thank you, Hank," her sigh sounded as she turned to face him, "I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting to see him here."
"You don't gotta apologize," the space of his office stood between them, left room for his concern without it crowding her out. "Are you alright?"
Her smile was embarrassed, dismissive, "Yeah, of course. I'll talk to him later, see what he wanted." Voight didn't respond and her eyes narrowed. "Did he mention, why he was here?"
"He did." Voight admitted, not offering more information and honestly, she didn't want to ask for it. Eric was a thought she had learned to put out of her mind and she didn't want to waste the energy on guessing. She had a couple more hours on shift. She would deal with him later.
She blew out a breath. "I should get back to work." Her hand raised as she passed him, fingers resting on his arm in quiet thanks.
Antonio was waiting for her, clearly wanting to know what that was about and very obviously not going to press.
"I'm sorry that was awkward. He's an old friend. Last time we spoke we argued. Guess I'm still mad at him," she laughed as she said it, but Antonio did not look wholly convinced. He relented though, when Voight came out.
Voight pulled Antonio out on a call, left Milani to hold down the office. They weren't back when shift ended, and Milani walked home beneath a lightly clouded sky.
She made dinner. Didn't touch her phone. She wasn't calling Eric yet. Still couldn't believe he had just shown up at her work. He could have warned her he was coming. But that was just like Eric, the man loved surprises.
A knock at her door had her stopping in place.
It couldn't be. He wouldn't just show up here.
But every part of her knew that he would.
She stomped over and swung it open, something deep within her hoping it would be Voight. Or Antonio. She'd even take Ruzek at this point.
Eric stood there, blond and tan and looking so cheerful she wanted to murder him.
"Why are you here."
He didn't even get a 'hello,' and he smiled patiently. "Well we couldn't speak at the office."
Lana just stared at him.
"As to why I'm here in Chicago, you haven't been answering my calls or texts, and we need to talk."
"I did answer your text." Lana went to retrieve her bag, Eric taking that as invitation to follow her in. She fumbled around for her phone to prove it, pulled up his messages just to see her response still sitting in the send bar. "I must have not sent it," she muttered.
Eric stood in her livingroom. "So how have you been?" he asked.
"Fine."
"How's the job going?"
"Good."
"I understand you just wrapped up a pretty big case, I saw it on the news."
Lana hummed in response, and Eric raised a brow at her.
"Not really interested in the small talk I see."
"What do you need to talk about, Eric. You don't get to show up out of the blue to ask about my day."
"I want you to come back and work for me."
"...for you."
And he smiled, a flash of brilliance that lit his whole face. "Yes, Lani. That promotion that I was in line for. I got it!"
She stared at him, a thousand unwelcome emotions merging into one building storm.
"Congratulations." Her voice was monotone. The kitchen offered a distraction and she pulled the chicken out of the oven, waved the steam away with a pot holder, and realized she had completely lost her appetite.
She had moved past this. Or else she had tried to. Every nuance and broken promise and those unsettling compromises she had made at home.
She had a new job. New life. Why was he here.
"Look, Lani," his hand on her arm had her turning, realizing he had followed her into the kitchen. "I'm good now. I'm clean thanks to you, to what happened, I was able to sort some things out, realize my mistakes. I owe you. You made this possible for me. I want to make that up to you."
"You think a job is going to make it up to me?" The pot holder crumpled in her hand, damp with warm steam against her fingers. "You think anything is going to fix what you asked me to do? I covered for you and someone died, Eric."
"I didn't know that was going to happen, Lani. It was an accident."
"An accident?!" She choked against rage. How could he say that. Like he was innocent. Like his choices hadn't affected anything.
"Of course, Lani. That girl ran a stop sign. There was nothing I could do."
"YOU COULD HAVE NOT BEEN HIGH!"
She barely recognized the voice that left her. Loud and ugly and to her shame it broke, making her sound weak. Overly emotional. This wasn't how she wanted to handle him. But he had shown up without permission, without giving her time to prepare. She stood in her own kitchen and somehow he still had the upper hand. Always prepared. Always in control. Except. Except.
He looked.
so.
hurt.
"How could you say that, Lani?"
Lana stuttered, so angry she could scarcely breathe. He couldn't be denying it.
"What do you mean. I found the pills, Eric. You admitted to using them."
"I know that, Lani. Yes, I had started abusing my pills. But it was on the weekend, or after a long shift. I never used on the job."
He drew back, betrayal drawing out the emotion in his eyes. "I don't know how you could even think that about me."
Lana was stunned. There was no other way to explain her loss of words. of thought. of belief.
"I don't," she looked away, focused hard on responding. "You're saying. The day of the accident. When that woman died. You weren't using?"
Her voice stayed steady. It still didn't sound like her.
Her ears were ringing.
"No," a step forward and his hands gripped hers, pleading and so sincere. "Lani, I swear it. I know I made mistakes, but nothing ever so bad as that. I really," his chest moved with a sigh, "I thought you knew me better than that."
A sad smile, a gentle squeeze to the hand he still held.
"I've intruded on your evening long enough. I'll let you eat. We'll talk soon, okay Lani?"
With that he showed himself out of the apartment she had never invited him into. Lana was still a moment, then with a shake of her head she grabbed the baking dish full of chicken and shoved it, oven mitt and all into the fridge.
She needed a drink.
A lot of them.
The punching bag wasn't cutting it. It was too blank, too passive. Her blows landed hard and it gave nothing back. She hadn't slept. Had barely eaten. Was just enough hung over to want to murder the world.
She had gotten here early. Didn't even know what time it was now. She spun, kicking high, driving her weight into it and stood panting.
She glanced over then, at the figure she had spotted as she turned, the man leaned comfortably against the wall. Lana wasn't sure how long he had been there, watching. She had closed everything out, trying to get lost in the repetition of punches and it had only partially worked.
"It's early even for you, Milani." Voight pushed off from the wall, disapproval in his tone. It covered the concern in his eye.
"You're here aren't you," she countered, launching another kick at the bag.
He didn't argue. Instead he moved, circled her as she worked.
"You're dropping your kicks." He critiqued idly. Lana bit her tongue. She knew she was. She was tired. And irritated. And was more concerned with breaking a sweat than checking her form.
She threw another jab, felt him closer now, but she ignored him. She tried to anyway.
His hand met her hip, turned her away from the bag. "You're gonna tire yourself out before shift even starts."
Lana spun free of his hand, knocking his arm away. Faced him with a challenge in her eyes and his gaze met it squarely.
"Is that so." She swung, tempering her speed in case he needed time to react. She had no idea how awake he was yet.
He didn't need the extra time. He ducked easily, caught her arm and jerked her off balance. In a moment he had her pinned, flushed and panting against his chest.
"Are you done?" his voice was in her ear, dry but warm and Lana grinned.
"No," she grunted, driving her hips back she broke free, pulled his arm behind his back and knocked him to his knees. "Are you?"
He turned, and honestly, she let him. He caught her calf and jerked, her knee buckled and she dropped against his chest. Voight felt her hands pressed into his shoulders, there was a dozen moves she could use right now and none of them involved tangling her fingers into the fabric of his shirt. He rolled, driving her back into the mat, hands locking on to her wrists.
Lana was counter rolling instantly. She was faster, but Voight was stronger. His hold on her wrists didn't break as she brought his body under hers, straddling it for the upper hand.
He pulled her hands to the mat, his fingers pressed against the rapid pulse in her wrists. He slid them, along the floor as her body was pulled closer over his chest, slipped her hands beneath his neck. Rested his head against their fingers.
"I'm not awake enough for this yet, Lana."
There was humor in his eye, something soft in his voice. It made her forget how they had gotten here, why she had been drilling into that stupid punching bag in the first place. She let her head drop forward, rest against his shoulder as her body settled, drained and comfortable against his like the only energy she had left was to stay right here. It was a fraction of a moment but it was enough for her to feel it through every part of her.
Something happened to his breath, it caught, unexpected. His finger tightened on her wrists, flexed before suddenly releasing.
"Lana..." the strain in his voice, that reminder of reality. She grumbled, falling to the side, her fingers slipping free beneath his neck like a vanishing touch.
"Gosh I'm exhausted." She lay beside him, staring up at the harsh fluorescent lights.
Hank took a moment to steady his breath, his hands. He got his elbows under him, looking down at the woman sprawled beside.
"Have you eaten?"
She cocked her head at him in thought, "Why."
He stood, tugged her up and jerked his head to the showers. "Because I'm hungry. Get ready. We have a while before shift starts."