Voight tipped the delivery driver and let the door close behind him. Crossed to the kitchen and dropped the bag into the garbage bin. He wasn't hungry.

A minute later he pulled it back out and shoved it into the fridge. No point wasting the blasted thing just because he wasn't in the mood to eat it.

He popped the top of a beer and just stood there staring at it.

He had killed a man today.

It hadn't been a choice so much as a consequence. Action, reaction. It was the simplest process in the world. A weapon drawn and a shot fired. He was just doing his job but he knew himself well enough to know it was more than that.

There had been a solid satisfaction in it. Maybe even enough to take something right and blur it until it was wrong. He wasn't sure justice could still be justice if it was personal. And he didn't care.

You didn't threaten the people he cared about without paying for it. And that man in that park had paid.

He didn't enjoy it, didn't hope for days like today, didn't look back on the shots he had to take with any type of pleasure. But he accepted it. And he would do it again in a heartbeat. Some people disagreed with it, the lengths he would go to to keep his people safe. They thought he should feel guilty for not feeling guilty. But he couldn't regret it, stopping a man that needed to be stopped.

He did what needed to be done. Action and reaction. A threat removed. It's how Voight operated, and he did it well.

Sometimes a little too well.

Voight was trying to shut it off, the part of him that knew it wouldn't take much. A few pulled strings and Eric wouldn't be a problem he had to worry about anymore.

He had connections, on either side of the law. One phone call would wreck Eric. His career. His life. Would stop him from taking Lana back to Miami.

They were connections he had used before, when his people were threatened by something the law couldn't fix. Erin. Justin. He hadn't been above scraping the bottom of the moral barrel just to get them out of whatever they were in.

But this was different. Because Eric wasn't a threat to his team. He wasn't here to hurt anything Voight had sworn to protect. Lana didn't need defending against him. Eric didn't want to hurt her, he just wanted her back.

If Voight pulled strings now it would be purely selfish, and that was a low even he couldn't respect.

His phone rang and he pulled it out, tossing it aside without looking at it. The captain had heard about the shooting by now and he wasn't in the mood to get an earful.

He downed his beer, as Milani's name flashed twice more on the screen before going blank.

Voight had settled onto the couch, dozed off to an old western. It was after eleven when he stirred, convinced himself to get up and go to bed. He grabbed his phone to plug it in and paused, the missed call notification still on the screen.

Lana had called? He hesitated, his eye going to the clock. It was late. She had only called once so it wasn't urgent, he should just wait until tomorrow.

But his finger was already dialing her back, and he listened to the tone as the line rung.

It took a minute before she answered, her voice coming slightly rough through the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hey, did I wake you?"

Lana looked down at the scattering of chips she had dropped onto her lap as she had fallen asleep on the couch.

"Uh, no, yeah, maybe a little." The tv still played on full volume, Friends reruns with canned laughter and Lana fumbled for the remote.

"Sorry. I saw your missed call. You alright?"

Lana held the phone a little closer in the sudden silence of her livingroom as she clicked the tv off. "Yeah, I didn't mean to disturb your evening, I just," Lana blinked at the clock on the wall, and grew distracted, was it really that late?

"You just what, Milani?"

It might have been the hour, or the faint static of the line, but his voice sounded warmer. Gentler. A far cry from the angry way he had shouted at her hours before and Lana tucked her knees into her chest.

"I wanted to thank you, for having my back today."

Silence. She wiggled one foot beneath the other as she waited.

"I'm glad you're alright, Milani," he said after a moment, and his voice sounded heavier now, "but I shouldn't have needed to have your back like that."

"I know I messed up, Voight. And I'm sorry." She rubbed her eyes, wishing there was something else she could say.

"I just don't understand why." Voight leaned forward, his elbow dropping onto his knee as he held the phone to his ear. This was a conversation that needed to happen, whether he liked it or not. "You dismissed what was right in front of you. You're a better cop than that. You could have handled the situation today if you had trusted your instincts."

Lana gave a humorless laugh, letting her head fall against the back of the couch. "My instincts haven't exactly been very reliable lately."

Voight heard the dejection in her voice, the embarrassment. "They won't do you any good if you don't listen to them."

Lana toyed with a loose bit of string on her couch cover. "My instincts had me trying to vindicate a cop killer."

Voight hummed, "Was that instincts, or you looking to get rid of guilt?"

Lana puffed out a breath, "Does it matter? Either way it was a screw up."

"You're not gonna get it right everytime, Milani. None of us are. What matters is how you come back from it."

"I want to come back from it. I want to be a good cop," she admittedly quietly, resting her head on her knees, and Voight felt an attempt at a smile pull.

"You are a good cop. Wouldn't have kept you around if you weren't."

He couldn't hear it, if she smiled, if her eyes lightened at all, instead it was quiet. Then, "I disappointed you today."

Voight's head dropped into his hand.

There was a safety in the late hour, in the sole connection of a voice through a line that cracked the door on things they wouldn't have said.

"No, Lana. You scared me." It spread through her, resonating, even as he continued. "I get scared whenever any of my people are in danger."

"You took me out of the field." Like she was reminding him, that he hadn't just gotten angry, that he had taken something from her, and Voight rubbed his knuckles across his eyes.

"That wasn't my call, Lana."

He could detest Eric all he wanted for telling the captain, but the truth was he never should have had Lana there to begin with. He had put her in the field without a weapon. Used her where she wasn't cleared and ended up putting her job on the line. Now she was being punished for Voight's mistake.

How many times had that happened already without him even realizing it?

"Eric came over." She spoke suddenly, and Voight felt the air not reach his lungs. He cleared his throat.

"And?"

Lana was rocking her forehead back and forth on her knees, her voice muffled on the phone. "He said if I go home they can reinstate me. I'll be an active agent again."

She offered it, hoping he would take the idea. See if they could do that here, get another medical review, get her back in the field officially.

But Voight didn't realize, didn't hear the possibility in her words. All he heard was the last nail hammering down.

If she went home she would have everything she wanted.

He wanted to argue, tell her she should would be breaching contract, that if Miami had wanted her they never would have transfered her. Miami didn't need her. She was a good fit for his team. He wanted to tell her, that she made them a better unit with the work she put in, but he couldn't do that.

Because he wasn't sure they had done the same for her. Being here, working for him, was turning her into something she never wanted to be. She was making mistakes, doubting herself, her ability to do a job she should have the opportunity to thrive at.

His fingers gripped the phone, tight, unwilling. He didn't want to say it

Voight closed his eyes.

"Then go home."

Lana sat at her desk, staring at a computer screen that had gone to sleep without her noticing. Shift started in half an hour. She hadn't needed to come in early. Hadn't really even wanted to, but there was something about being here, when the lights were half off and the room was empty, that let her think.

Then go home.

Her throat felt tight at the memory, at the halting way she had said goodbye. Ended the conversation before she said something stupid. She didn't want to go back to Miami, to work for Eric. She wanted a place here, even if she was stuck behind this desk.

Voight came in, passed by her desk and acknowledged her presence with a nod. As cold as a good morning as she could get.

"Sir."

He stopped, turned a little and waited for her to continue.

"I'd like to have a word, please."

He nodded, "What's up, Milani."

She swallowed. "Eric needs my answer, tonight..."

He hid so much behind that shuttered gaze. "and you're taking it?" Blunt and to the point.

Lana didn't know why it hit her so wrong. Why it felt like she was waiting for something. Hoping for something.

Lana's lips moved a couple times, "well, I-"

He stared at her, every moment his gaze hardened further, became that much more difficult to face.

Voight breathed. This wasn't the time to over-react. It wasn't the time to let himself react at all. "Let me know. I'll put the transfer through."

Lana watched him turn to his office, every step he took away from her stretching that stupid hope. Too thin until it snapped. And she was left wondering why she had ever been naive enough to think he would ask her to stay. This wasn't some Telenovela her mother made here sit through when she was 12. She never cared for the dramatic scenes, the over the top actions.

She had decided to stay, to earn her way back to a good standing with this team. With Voight. Nothing would change that. She knew, he had as good as told her, he couldn't give her what she wanted. But a tiny little piece of her heart had been searching for it anyway, a word, a sign, anything to let her know that she wasn't an idiot for wanting to stay... for him.

Antonio ended a call and pushed up from his desk, not even an hour into shift and the day was about to get hectic.

"We got a hostage situation down town. We'll need a translator. Dispatch says they're speaking German."

"Find someone," Voight pointed at Lana, moving toward the stairs, all business. Her hand went to the phone, when she stopped.

"Eric. He's a licensed translator."

"He speaks German?" Jay asked, clearly doubtful.

"Yeah," he had used it on one of their first cases together.

"You good with this?" Antonio asked Voight, Eric wasn't one of their own but if he was close this could work.

Voight shrugged, like it wasn't in him to care anymore. "Don't really have time to not be. Let's roll out."

Traffic was stopped around an intersection, a woman had pulled a gun on a couple, forced them from their car at a red light. Voight didn't understand a word of what they were shouting but it was easy enough to get the basic gist of the situation. The age old motive, cheating spouse was caught in the act. It was amazing how many cases they got just because someone was unfaithful.

Eric did his job, talked her down. A tense hour past but in the end it was resolved without bloodshed. Voight had stood by, barely necessary, given way too much time to think. He didn't want to think about it. He had other things to focus on than what he shouldn't want and couldn't have. He lived his life alone, and everyone else was better off because of it.

Miami. This guy, Eric, maybe they could make Lana happy.

That at least would make this feeling worth it.

Erin came sauntering up as they finished up. "Hey, I need an hour. Personal errand."

Voight eyed her, "anything I should know about?"

She waved a hand, "No, but I would like to borrow your car."

She stood there, grinning like an impish cat, knowing he wouldn't say no, and Voight rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, alright." he handed her his keys. "You got an hour."

"Thanks," she tossed a grin over her shoulder, "Jay can take you back."

"Nonsense," Eric interjected himself, "I certainly don't mind giving you a lift."

Voight could have turned him down, found another way back to the precinct, but Voight wanted a chance to see what it was Lana was going back to. See if he could trust this guy to have her back. Eric seemed a little too polished, a little too clean. But maybe Voight was just too used to staring at dirt.

His phone buzzed and he glanced at the text, a CI he had reached out to was finally getting back, and Voight asked Eric to detour to the meet. Eric chatted, about his new position, the cases he would be heading up. The sort of bragging meant to sound natural and Voight tried to tune it out.

But everytime Eric mentioned Lana, the fun they had had and the asset she would be it scraped something raw inside of him. They came to a stop in a side road where his guy would be, cross traffic moved as Eric talked and Voight's temper snapped.

"She know? That you ratted her out to the commander?"

Eric's sentence stuttered off. "Excuse me?"

Voight shrugged, words calm but his chest felt hot. "You took something from her when you did that. She know that the kind of man you want her to work for?"

"So she should stay here, working for you?"

Eric's implication was clear, and Voight ignored it. If Lana was gonna work for this guy, he needed to know what was important. "I don't sabotage my team to get them to do what I want. If you're going to run a unit you need to protect your people."

Eric sneered, "Like a crook with a deal with IA has any room to talk. You're nothing but a CI yourself, just with a bigger office. No self respecting cop would work for you if there was a way out. And I'm giving her one. She'll be thanking me."

It was a slow breath that kept Voight's cool, a harsh curse muttered as his hands unclenched. Eric was visibly waiting for a response he full well knew he wouldn't get. Voight couldn't argue with the truth, they both knew it.

A kid in a grey hoodie stepped into view, and Voight reached for the door handle.

"I'll find my own way back."

Eric watched Voight get out, and blew out a breath. He felt jumpy, annoyed he had let Voight irritate him that much. Snapping wasn't something he usually stooped to. He checked the rearview, glanced around, before opening his door and stepping out. He needed a little break, to calm down and focus. Voight would be busy with his CI, and Eric headed off the other way.

Voight caught up with the kid as he rounded the corner into a small alley.

"Sup, Coppers."

Voight shook his head at the boy, not in the mood for small talk. "You remember that kid snatching case?

"Course," his shoe scuffed the ground, "lil' sis was in that girl's class. She was scared to go to school for a week."

Voight shrugged, "We're looking for intel."

The kid tugged his hood tighter, "I thought you bagged and tagged the guy."

Voight swallowed a flash of irritation. He was here to get information, not give it out to every punk kid on the corner. "Just looking into it. You know that park downtown? I'm interested in anyone hanging out."

He pulled up the photo of the body he had dropped, and showed the kid, "Or anyone who's been around this guy."

"Ooof," Ralph rubbed his neck at the lifeless face, half glancing up as a couple of girls walked by, "You take him out too?"

Voight pocketed his phone. "You do what you have to," he muttered. "Now, can you get it done?"

Ralph held up his hands at the sharp tone, "Yeah, whatever you need man. Long as it pays."

Voight glared. "Results get paid."

Ralph laughed, "Yeah, whatever man."

He pulled his jacket closed and walked away. Voight could be a real jerk sometimes but he didn't buy into the older cop's bite. He looked out for the kids around here when some of the other cops couldn't be bothered. It was one of the only reasons Ralph had ever started snitching for him. Because Voight got things done.

He stepped around the corner and stopped. That other guy Voight had shown up with, the blond cop from the car, was at the end of the back alley. He was slipping cash to the dealer who ran this corner and Ralph felt a little smug that the jerk dealer was about to get pinched. How Marcus didn't realize the guy he was dealing with was cop, Ralph couldn't figure, but he tugged out his phone and flipped his camera on.

The whole drug deal played out on his screen next to the little light that blinked 'record,' and Ralph swallowed a chuckle. He waited for the take down, but the exchange ended and Marcus just walked away. He passed by Ralph with a half nod, and kept going.

The cop didn't follow, radio anyone, draw his weapon and tell Marcus to freeze. None of the good stuff. Instead, Ralph watched him fish pills from a baggy and pop a few back.

This wasn't a sting. It was a legitimate buy.

Ralph cursed under his breath. Voight didn't mess with no dopers and Ralph back stepped, ready to find Voight and let him in on what he had just seen when Blond Cop turned.

Ralph's phone still sat, openly recording in his hand, that frozen, startled look in his eye, and Eric drew his weapon.

"Drop the phone, hands against the wall."

Ralph felt his stomach flip, his throat dry to something parched and desperate. It wasn't his first time facing no gun but there was a cop at the other end of it. A cop he had just filmed taking drugs.

Voight was still nearby, probably. He could try, right, to run?

Round the corner, Marcus had paused. He hadn't paid that kid by the dumpster any mind, but on second thought, why was he hanging around like that? Marcus didn't like people treading on his lot.

He stepped back into the alley to run that boy off when he saw Eric.

"Aw hell, you a cop?!"

He pulled his own gun, letting out a stream of profanity. He didn't like getting played.

Ralph stumbled back, caught between the cop and his dealer. Gunshots blasted through the alley, and two bodies dropped on the pavement, half covered in the shadow of the building above.

Marcus stood in the echo, in that stunned moment before reaction. The kid lay bleeding, not two feet in front of him. Marcus hesitated, realizing he had seen this dude around, kid was mouthy but he kept to himself. His eyes were open. They weren't blinking.

There came a groan down the other end, the cop, he was moving. Marcus looked down at the gun in his hand.

He had shot a cop. His moms was gonna straight up murder him. Enough scenes from cop shows flashed in his mind, and Marcus tugged his shirt over the handle of the gun, rubbing hard enough to hopefully erase prints. He didn't really know how that crap worked, but he dropped his gun by the lifeless hand of the kid at his feet, and Marcus ran.

It felt like the sun was pulsing on him, heat on melting heat. Shards of pavement scraped into his skin as he crawled. The kid was dead. That was easy enough to see. Eric recognized the hoodie, this was Voight's CI. Eric would've sworn but his breath was choked with pain.

The phone. He needed to find the phone. He'd seen the dealer drop his gun. That was here, the smoking weapon. But where the hell- he found it, crushed beneath the kid's leg. Screen was cracked on a rock, but he wasn't taking chances. He tossed it, heard it slide beneath the graffiti littered dumpster, hit the back wall with a thud.

Blast it was hot. He heard Voight yelling. Muffled, kind of sounded like his name. He fell back, blood leeching onto the pavement, face to the blaring sun.

Lana looked up as the others came in.

"Hey, how'd it go? Where's Voight? And Eric?"

Ruzek shrugged. "Should be right behind us." He dropped in his seat, "Man. It always amazes me how stupid people will be when they think they're in love. Hold up an entire intersection just cuz your man ran out on you." he shook his head, dumbfounded, "You ever been in love, Milani?"

Antonio smacked him with a folder, "That's personal. But have you?" he turned to Lana expectantly and she blinked at them.

In love?

Yeah. With Eric. A stupid girlish crush from day one. Fell in to the stereotypical trap of falling for your partner. She couldn't quite believe it when he came to love her back. It was like some impossible perfect little dream.

She had loved him. She had trusted him. Look where that had gotten her.

"Yeah," she shook her head in rueful confusion, "And I was a flippin idiot."

Olinsky lifted his coffee mug in a toast as he sat down. "We're all idiots in love. But we chase it anyway."

"I dunno," Attwater plucked the stress ball from his desk, and tossed it around, "My momma always said that if you have to chase it, it's not love. It's infatuation. A crush. Real love happens and there's not much you can do about it. Because when it's right, you end up running into eachother, not away."

Antonio lips quirked in disbelief. "You're telling me you never ran away from a woman."

"Oh no, I ran," Attwater tossed the ball onto his desk, "but I didn't spend the whole time running. If you're not both working towards eachother then what's the point. Like today, that woman done lost her mind because the man she was chasing was chasing someone else. Real love is when you're drawn to eachother. No matter how much you fight it. Chasing, and being chased. That's love. Because if it starts with just one person doing the chasing, it's gonna end that way too." His shoulders bounced in a shrug, "least that's what my momma always told me."

They fell silent, pointedly busy. Like they weren't all sitting there wondering if they had ever had that moment, that kind of love that lasted without one of them drifting away and the other one holding on to what wasn't there anymore.

If they would ever find it again. That give and take. To want and be wanted.

She saw Jay smile a little to himself, pull out his phone to presumably text Erin. They were a good match, a good couple. Stupid as it sounded, Lana wanted that.

Lana's gaze drifted to the closed office door at the end of the room, one phrase echoing on repeat in her mind. I can't give you what you want.

"Milani!"

Her gaze snapped over to see Platt, top of the stairs and panting. "Why don't you answer your stupid phone!"

Lana looked down, realizing she had left the receiver slightly off the base and she clicked it back in place.

"Sorry, I-"

Platt waved a hand, "Yeah, shutup. Your partner's vehicle was just involved in a shooting, came in over the radio. One person been shot. The call said someone was critically injured but we don't know if it was Eric or his passenger.

"Passenger?" Lana muttered, a stunned mind catching on one word. Antonio was already grabbing his jacket, offering to take her to the hospital.

Jay shot to his feet. "Voight. Voight was with him."

The color drained from Lana's face.

The patrolman stood at the edge of the alley, waiting while they photographed the body. Ambulance had come and went, rushing Detective Watts to the hospital. Sergeant Voight had gone with him. The patrolman couldn't figure it. Watts was an officer, maybe not from their own home but he was a brother in uniform, and he'd been shot. Could be bleeding out as he stood there, watching the perimeter. Sergeant Voight took that stuff personally. Anyone of them did. But when Voight had seen the kid, the one who must have shot their fellow officer, he looked... disappointed. Like he cared the kid was dead more than he did about the detective who was shot.

He turned at an approaching officer and stuttered to attention.

"Commander!"

She didn't normally come out for something like this, but she stood there, frowning as she took in the scene.

Commander Emma Crowley sighed. After the shooting in the park, having a visiting detective shot while in Voight's company wasn't something they could let get out of hand. The media was hard enough to keep at bay as it was, and she didn't need it getting in the way of her officers doing their jobs. She would be involved in this one, until she was certain nothing was going to come back and bite them later.

An officer was interviewing a couple of girls, off to the side of the yellow police tape and she crossed to them. Officer Robbins nodded in greeting as she approached, stepped aside when she clearly intended to step in.

"You saw the shooting?" she asked the girls. They were teens. Oversized jackets and tiny shorts, like they didn't have the sense to dress right. One snapped her gum at her, tossing a red braid over her shoulder.

"Nah. Just heard the shots."

The Commander cocked a brow at her attitude but she didn't seem phased. The gum snapped again.

"So what did you see?" she asked, shooting Officer Robbins a look that made it clear he better not be wasting her time with these two.

"That kid. We saw him earlier. With this cop that comes around sometimes. A Sergeant or some crap like that. They were talking."

"About?" the Commander demanded, and the girl popped a hip, dropped a hand on it like she wasn't sure she wanted to say what she was gonna say but she was gonna say it anyway.

"Look, I don't know how it started. But they were talking about dropping bodies. That kid, he asked the cop if he should 'take him out too?'"

Commander Crowleys's frown was fierce. Exacting. "Those were his words?"

"Yeah," the girl rolled her eyes like she didn't like being questioned. "And that cop guy told him to do what needed to be done. Then the kid asked for money and cop said he'd get paid when he saw results."

It was ironic, how she just tossed out information like that like she didn't bother realizing the implication. Or maybe she just didn't care, because she waved a hand like it was drama even she thought was wrong.

"So he like, paid that kid to go after the guy didn't he. And he's a cop. That's messed up."

Crowley stood a little straighter. Yes, from what the girl claimed to have witnessed, none of this looked good. But she hadn't gotten to where she was by making assumptions. Eye witnesses could mishear. Misunderstand. They had no motive. No evidence.

She turned to the other girl, quiet, with a glossy black braid, she was staring at the corner that the body lay behind.

"I knew him," she glanced up, and shrugged a little into herself. "Not well, ya know? But I'd seen him around. He had a mouth but he always seemed... nice? I guess? He'd walk his sister home."

She shuddered, "Guess he wasn't that nice, shooting that cop like that."

The Commander let her expression soften. Everyone reacted to witnessing a crime differently and this girl wasn't as hardened as her friend.

"Did you hear or see anything different, anything that could help?"

The girl shrugged, "No, I heard what Stella heard, the stuff the guy said. It kinda scared me a little. I didn't know he was a cop."

"So you hadn't seen him around?"

"No," she crossed her arms, "But I did see him earlier. Just before I guess, when I was waiting at the bus stop for Stella. He was in a car with a blond guy. They kinda looked like they were arguing."

"Arguing? Did you hear about what?"

"No," the girl shook her head, "I just saw that guy get out. He looked mad."

"Look, we done here?" Stella spoke up, "I gots to get home before my nephew get outta school."

Officer Robbins had their names, their contact information, and the commander waved them off.

Voight had been a pain in her department since the moment she came on. Pushed lines, pushed suspects around. Everyone knew he was dirty and they couldn't quite get him.

He got results. Had support from higherups that she didn't quite understand. But this was beyond anything even they could smooth over.

She had tried to peg him with a body before, after his son had been killed and the killer had just vanished. But nothing ever seemed to stick to Hank Voight.

Now? Now she had a detective in the hospital, it didn't matter that it wasn't one of hers. One of hers might be responsible, and she wasn't going to waste time letting this get out of hand.

Hank Voight had twisted strings and ignored authority long enough. She had witnesses, a dead kid, and an injured cop. She would get answers. And Voight? He would answer to them.