Voight downed another drink, felt the burn against his throat as he swallowed. He knew his team was out at Molly's, blowing off steam and wasting an evening together. It was good, them doing that. He was a little too used to doing it alone.
There was a thump from down the bar, a drink spilled and a muddled curse before an argument broke out. Voight glanced up in irritation, he wasn't in the mood to deal with a couple of drunks shaping up to do something stupid.
The bartender could usually handle this kind of crap, but he was in the back. With a long suffering growl, Voight stepped in.
He grabbed the arm of the larger one before he could swing again, slammed him hard against the bar.
"Knock it off!" Voight glanced at the guy next to him in time to duck, the glass the man had thrown shattering against the back wall. Voight cursed as sharp shards stung his face.
"Hey!" Mikey was out from the back now, and he grabbed the guy by the collar. Mikey was not a small man, but he was quick and he pressed the drunk's face into the bar.
"I don't like people breaking stuff in my bar. Get out. and don't come back. Both of ya."
He sent the one Voight held a scowl as Voight let him go, and Mikey shoved his away.
"You alright?" He tossed a towel at Voight, frowning at the blood dripping from his cheek.
"Yeah," Voight pressed at the cuts, trying to staunch the bleeding, head wounds always bled worse than they were. "Just scratched."
He fished his wallet out with his other hand, but Mikey waved him off. "Tonight's on the house. Thanks for the help. And you might wanna get that looked at." He jerked his chin as Voight's head.
"Yeah," Voight grunted, before grabbing up his jacket.
It was colder than he was expecting, and his face stung. He was going to get blood all over his car. This was shaping up to be one hell of a night. He dug out his keys, but hesitated.
He was only a block away from Milani's apartment.
Voight rolled his eyes, he wasn't hurt bad enough to bother her and he knew it. He had a first aide kit in the trunk, he had handled worse himself before.
"Voight?" her voice interrupted everything, and Voight turned.
Lana had paused on the sidewalk, under the light of a cracked street light. Her jacket was pulled tight, arms wrapped around her stomach like she was fighting off the cold. She still wasn't quite used to it, losing that Miami warmth.
"Hey Milani," he grimaced as his cheek twinged, and Lana stepped closer.
"You're hurt." The shadow of blood lay thick on his cheek, his hand pressed to cover a wound she couldn't see.
"I'm fine," Voight spoke as she approached, saw the worry in her eye.
"You don't look it." Her fingers touched his chin, turning his face to the light. Her hands were cold, and he shivered when her thumb brushed the corner of his lip.
"You should get this cleaned up," she stepped back, nodding her head down the road, "My place isn't far."
"I remember."
Lana felt her stomach tighten.
He didn't know why he said it, why his voice had dropped. Why his eyes tracked the way she paused, glanced back at him with a gaze that flashed wide.
He walked beside her, as silent as the night they had met. Left his car in the lot and followed her down empty streets to her apartment.
She clicked the light on, dropped her keys on that little table by the door. Frowned when she saw him in the full light.
"You look awful."
"Thanks."
She rolled her eyes, "Come on."
She stepped into the bathroom and pulled her first aide kit out of the cabinet, glanced at him filling her doorway. He was watching her, with the kind of silence she didn't like.
It got her thinking, about his first time here and all the times after. Remembering. How her long days had ended with something solid to turn to.
She missed that. Lately it was like one day's frustrations just rolled into the next.
"You gonna tell me what happened?" She let the water run warm before wringing out her cloth. He stepped forward in the small space, let her wipe away the blood.
Voight could have done it, she could have handed him the washcloth and given him space. There was no reason to stand just a little closer than necessary, study his eyes as she cleaned his wound.
"Broke up a bar fight," he winced as she touched a deeper cut, his hand catching her wrist.
"Sorry." She didn't like the tremble in her voice. Didn't recognize the nervous pit of energy turning in her stomach.
She taped the gauze across the one cut deep enough to need it, smoothed the edge of the tape longer than truly necessary.
Lana knew, she knew what wanting did to a person. She knew caring made her weak.
Maybe she shouldn't have had those drinks at Molly's, maybe she shouldn't have taken the long way home, hoping that she would run into him.
Erin's stories filled her mind, the lies mocking the life she didn't have, the connections she hadn't made. The thought of leaving, that she really might walk away so she didn't have to keep fighting this, it made her want to give in. Just one more time.
She could pretend it meant nothing just for a chance to feel him again. Act like she wasn't doing the very thing that she swore she never would again, to let herself want.
There was a fraction of space between them.
Her fingers close around the extra gauze, rest on the edge of the sink. She could feel her heart beat, nervous, quickening. He was watching her with careful eyes and she wondered, could he see it, what she wanted?
Did his heart beat faster because he knew hers did?
He had a way of reading people, staring down suspects until they felt exposed without ever opening their mouths. There wasn't much you could hide from Hank Voight, and her hands trembled as she moved.
"You got blood," she swallowed as her fingers slipped along his collar, "On your shirt."
She was aware of his eyes with an intensity she felt in her pulse as she found the first button. Felt his breath deepen in his chest as her fingers slid to the next.
"It's just a shirt," an attempt to interject reason, but they both heard it, the strain in his voice.
She tugged another button free, his body stepping nearer with the pull of her hands. Her back hit the sink, his hand closing around the door jam beside them. Holding himself just enough back she saw the tension in the muscles of his arm.
She tilted her head up at him, "do you want me to stop?"
Her lips brushed his with the words, barely a kiss.
"Lana..." he fit a thousand emotions into one word.
His hand slipped against her side, hesitant, and she arches closer with an eagerness that should frighten her.
She shouldn't want him this badly, but every moment he held back trembled in her stomach.
The lightest touch of her lips against his.
Her gasp came as his lips responded, hands tugging her against him. She had learned this, how it would go. The demand of his hands and the need in his kiss. That urgent release of all the weight he carries when she gives him something he can use to forget. How they had always been, heated and yet so calculating, and her heart revolted against it.
She thought she could do it, play it their usual way, but she didn't want an empty touch. She didn't want cold motions. She wants to let herself feel what it was really like against him.
Voight feels her touch move at the back of his neck, pads of each finger pressing into his shoulder blades. She's taking her time, running her hands on his skin in a way she never had before, kissing him longer. Deeper. And everything in him wants to respond.
To have her hair threaded through his fingers, her breath in his ear as he kisses her throat. To leave no doubt in the way he touches her that she is everything to him.
To show her slowly, in a thousand different ways.
He wants to love her. And he knows he never can.
Her heart is pounding like it might break and a sound leaves her when his kiss suddenly ends.
"Wait," his forehead drops against hers, breathing a struggle for air. "I can't."
A crack to her beating heart.
"I can't give you what you want, Lana."
Hank knows what she's looking for. Action, and reaction. They had played that game time and again and he knew it. But he can't do it, can't hold her and pretend it's not affecting every part of him.
She didn't come here for that. He can't handle that rejection again.
Lana was fighting her heart, to stay steady. Not to break. He knew. She had messed up. He could feel what she wanted and he couldn't give it. Of course he couldn't.
She should save face and walk away. Should remember what she had been trying to teach herself all along. Shove him out of her life for good.
But she didn't. She wanted more.
Lana sucked in a breath, "I want whatever you want to give me, Hank."
Voight laughed. Humourless and out of breath, head still resting against hers. He was completely screwed. He couldn't walk away from that. He wasn't strong enough.
They come together as she turns out the light.
They're holding back, locked in a silent battle between what they want and what they think they're allowed to give. The darkness hides. The tear of relief that spills from her eye when his kiss reclaims her. The silent way his lips speak her name.
His hand grips the sheets to stop from holding her.
Her mouth marks his shoulder to hold back the words.
stay. please.
He gets dressed in the dark.
She dreams about him holding her.
Steam curled from the cup in his hand, resting on the cold metal railing. The dawn stretched the horizon. Colors spilled out onto the Chicago River, golden light mirrored by the city behind him, spreading in a reflection of steel and glass.
He took a sip of his coffee, inhaling slowly, thoughts full of last night, the way she had touched him. His hands shook and he gripped the railing.
It had felt different. He had argued with himself for hours, knew how easy it was to see what you wanted to see, but he couldn't silence it.
I want whatever you want to give me, Hank.
Would she have said that, if she knew how much it was he wanted to give. If she had any idea?
The sounds of the city drifted like a haze through the waking air behind him. It was just noise to some people, but it was the voice of the city he served. A constant murmur in the background that kept him grounded, kept him focused.
Voight pushed off from the railing and grabbed his coffee. It was time to get to work.
Antonio's lips curled in mild surprise as the other officer stepped off of the stairs. Ruzek was here early.
"Yo," the younger officer dropped into his chair and scooted it beside Antonio's desk. "What was up with you and Lana last night, man?"
He missed Antonio's quick frown, the warning glance he sent to where Voight stood scribbling on the white board. Ruzek never paid enough attention to who he talked in front of.
"It was nothing."
Ruzek wasn't convinced. "Dude you were basically on top of her. That isn't 'nothing.'"
Voight's hand paused on the board. Antonio could have strangled Alan. The last thing anyone needed was for Ruzek to be putting any thoughts in Voight's head that there was interoffice nonsense going on. He had dodged that bullet with Lana once already and Voight had been irritable enough then.
"She was trying to make an ex jealous. I was happy to help." Antonio spread his hands like Ruzek was making a deal out of nothing and tried shooing him away. Erin had come in and he didn't want this conversation getting any bigger. But Erin atleast had a brain in her head.
"Yeah I bet you were happy." Ruzek smirked suggestively, "She need help with anything else?"
He didn't know what had gotten into Ruzek but Antonio's hand came down on his desk. "Hey!" he pointed a warning finger at him before giving up. "Can you smack him for me?" he requested, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as Erin passed by on her way to her desk.
She obliged, no questions asked.
She paused when she spotted Voight, the tip of the marker snapped off in his hand, red ink staining his fingers.
How on earth had he managed to do that?
Voight stepped off the stairs, intent on crossing the lobby without speaking to anyone when Trudy waved him down.
"Hey," she saw the scratches on his face and disregarded them. If she questioned every bump and bruise that man showed up with she wouldn't have any time left for her job. She leaned over the front desk, voice low, "What's going on there?"
Voight glanced through the filling lobby at her nod.
Detective Watts stood in the doorway of the captain's office. She was seeing him out with a smile, like they were old friends. Voight felt like he was burning from the inside out. This man was everything he couldn't stand to see happening and he was standing there, shaking the captain's hand.
Voight swore with more force than Trudy had heard from him in a while, and she pressed back some.
"Well what's gotten into you. You know something I should know?"
Voight shook his head. "I don't know why he's seeing the Captain. You gonna bother me with anything else that has nothing to do with me, or can I go now?"
Trudy snorted. "Such a charmer."
Hank went to leave.
"I'll let you know if I learn anything," she added. She knew he would want to know and had zero intentions of not finding out.
Voight shook his head, swallowing back anger as he walked away, trying to focus on anything other than what Antonio had said.
She was making Eric jealous.
Did she call him, after Voight had left last night, let it slip that someone had been over? Did Eric even know it was him, or was he just a nameless means to an end?
His phone buzzed enough to interrupt him and he yanked it out. Erin was calling him from upstairs. That meant it was important enough she couldn't wait for him to get back up there and he answered it with a frown.
Lana shoved the door open with her forearm, trying not to spill her coffee. Her shirt was damp because she had forgotten to put her stupid load in the stupid dryer and she could feel it sticking to her beneath her jacket. She had been running behind all morning.
Days like today made her question how she ever pretended to have her life together.
The lobby was busy, officers and civilians milling about for a dozen different reasons and every single one of them was making it difficult to get to the stairs.
A lady in front of her stepped back without looking. Lana jerked to a stop and her coffee splashed on her hand.
"Gah." Lana hissed at the hot liquid, switched her cup to her other hand and stuck the side of her thumb in her mouth. That had freaking hurt.
"Problem?" her gaze snapped up at the voice. Voight was watching her, witnessing every clumsy disheveled moment and her cheeks flared hot as her stomach flipped in surprise.
Lana shook her hand out with as much dignity she could muster. "No, sir."
"Good. You're with me." He nodded his head toward the entrance to the garage, cut his way through the crowd. People stepped out of his way and she stayed in his wake.
She felt the abrupt silence of the parking garage like a change in the atmosphere, but Voight didn't slow.
"Erin got a call," he spoke over his shoulder, "Case we were working before your time. A witness of hers just gave us a lead."
She ducked into the passenger seat, traded her coffee for the tablet he handed her and he set her coffee into the cup holder. No good morning. No hello. No time for anything but business and Lana told herself to focus.
They had been through this before. Last night didn't get to make its way through the precinct doors and on to the job with them. She knew that. But even still. Something seemed off.
The files were already pulled up on the screen. A missing child's case that was marked closed.
"It says here the girl was found?" she asked, glancing up from the screen, and Voight nodded.
"Yeah. In an old school building. They found a guy on scene. He fit the description of the guy witnesses say took her. He was mentally unstable. Eventually confessed. But Erin was never convinced it was him."
Lana scrolled through the reports. It seemed pretty cut and dry on paper.
"What did you think?" Lana asked, but Voight shook his head.
"I wasn't on the case," he felt the question coming and answered it, "It was right after Justin."
He had taken some time. Maybe too much time even though people kept telling him it hadn't been enough. Intelligence had gotten along fine without him, but Erin hadn't been able to let this case go. He trusted her gut well enough to believe there was a good reason why.
When she had gotten a call from a frantic woman claiming to have seen the man she had witnessed take that poor girl all those months ago, Erin hadn't hesitated and the team wasn't going to either.
"Witness says he entered a park but then she lost sight of him. We find him, we grab him. You get an ID and get a connection to this other case. Reopening this might take everything we got."
They were the first ones on scene, a busy neighborhood playground with kids running between blue metal poles and parents dotting the benches. It was open enough they had a good vantage point of the playground, just not the walking paths in the back, and Voight shut off the engine.
"Keep an eye out." His tone was clipped. Not just normal focus. He was irritated.
They needed the witness to make an Id but they had a working description, and they scanned the crowd, looking for anyone who stood out.
She went to ask something that a yawn interrupted and Lana pressed her hand over her mouth.
"Sorry," she said at his glance. It felt accusing, like there was something she was missing and she laughed a little awkwardly, "I'm a little worn out."
Voight didn't look amused. His mouth worked once. "I don't care what you do off shift, Milani, just don't bring it on shift with you."
Lana's jaw dropped. A sting feeling her cheeks like she had just been slapped.
He didn't break his focus on the park, on the people milling about.
Erin's car pulled up across the way. Voight stepped out of the car, nodding for Lana to follow, ignoring the look on her face. The case had made the news before, and this guy might recognize Erin. She would hold perimeter. They were going in. He shrugged into his jacket, and reached back in for her coffee, came around the car and nudged her arm. "Let's take a walk."
They followed the little stone path into the park. She sipped her coffee and kept pace just beside him. He was intentionally close, his sleeve brushing hers, leaning in to speak like they were on a stroll together.
There were little shouts and laughter as children played, the sun just bright and warm enough to remind them it was there. The air was still, not cut by cold wind and it was exactly the kind of scene Lana could have enjoyed.
If they weren't stalking a child predator.
Voight was angry. It was controlled but she could feel it, like a pulse from him into the unsuspecting air around them. Jay and Olinski had entered from the east. Voight dipped his head closer as he responded to the comms, like he was talking to her, perfectly in character. Their gazes met and it was cold. She had seen his anger before, when cases hit too close and his temper broke. When that control slipped. He burned with it.
But this, it didn't- It didn't feel like anger. And she suddenly wasn't convinced it had anything to do with the case.
The path they walked led into the trees, and Voight paused.
"Hang back around the park. Radio if you see anything."
He left her, hands in his pockets he strolled away and Lana stretched her back, drained the last of her coffee and dropped it into a nearby trash bin. She wandered back, checking faces as she passed, filtering them through the description in her mind.
That look in Voight's eyes, it stayed like a touch barely there at the back of her neck and she resisted the urge to physically shake it off.
An errant soccer ball bounced across the path, a mom yelled at her kid for not being careful and Lana watched it roll to a stop at the base of a bush. She stepped over and bent to retrieve it, could have tossed it back, but walked it over to the kid instead.
"Thank you," the mom shook her head as the boy took off with the ball, "I'm sorry about. We're still working on spacial awareness." She laughed a little, and Lana smiled.
"Oh, no worries." She popped a hand on her forehead and looked around, "You know, I was actually supposed to be meeting my cousin here, but can't find him. He's kinda tall, brown hair, glasses. You haven't happened to have seen him, have you?"
"Um, no I don't think so, sorry," the woman shrugged, and Lana thanked her anyway.
It hadn't panned out, but it was worth a shot, and Lana headed back toward the path.
The wind was picking up a little, and she stuffed her hands in her pockets. The play area was clear, no one even close to matching who she was looking for, and Lana went to check the small bathrooms.
Comms had been quiet, no updates, no one had found him, and she began to wonder if they had missed him entirely. She rounded the corner of the little grey building and caught sight of a guy near the end. He was short, blonde and clean shaven. Nothing fit the description, but he drew her eye. He saw her but ignored her, not exactly abnormal public behavior, still she couldn't shake the feeling that something was off about him. It could be nothing, she hadn't felt right since she had stepped out of that car.
"Excuse me," she approached him with a friendly enough smile. He glanced behind him like he wasn't sure who she was talking to, then squinted at her in confusion. "Sorry to bother you."
"Can I help you?" his voice had a sharp nasal sound, like he had a cold, and the way he shuffled down into his coat showed he wasn't comfortable.
"Maybe, I was looking for a friend of mine, was wondering if you had seen him?"
She rattled off the description, watched him turn those squinty eyes to the sky as if in thought.
"You know I think I may have, headed down there," he pointed to an old ball court in the back that had been out of commission for a while.
"Huh, well thank you for your time."
He rubbed his nose, nodding a sniffly 'you're welcome,' and Lana scowled down at the ball court.
"Got a match on the description. Suspect was seen heading towards the southern court." she spoke quietly as she walked.
Her comms crackled, nothing but a static response, and Lana rubbed her ear, discreetly tapping her comms.
She growled under her breath, this was just what she needed.
That feeling was there at the back of her neck, like a cold hand closing and Lana grimaced, ignoring it, trying to get her comms to work. There was a sound, hardly louder than the static. A footstep just behind.
She turned a moment too late.