The doors slid open, the harsh lighting reflecting off of white tile. It smelled like antiseptic and forced clean air.
Antonio hated hospitals.
Lana had been completely silent as they drove, hands clenched and expression willfully neutral. Like she was afraid to let her fear show. He hadn't known what to say to her.
Telling her he hoped Eric was okay would just be wishing thier boss had been the one to take the bullet. Antonio couldn't do that. So he had said nothing, and let the anxious silence stretch.
They stopped at the nurses' station long enough to ask about the officers that were just brought in when a voice cut down the hall.
"'Tonio!"
Antonio's attention whipped around. Voight stood outside a hospital room. He looked worried, but unharmed and Antonio was hit with a wave of relief that a little bit suprised him.
He felt his grin stretching his face. "Boss, hey, you're okay."
"Yeah," Voight's gaze didn't last on Antonio, it dropped to where Lana stood beside and Antonio's relief twisted. Voight was fine. Eric wasn't.
He felt Lana begin to shake.
A hesitant step, two, then she stumbled into Voight. Her forehead met his chest as her arms closed around him.
Antonio felt a little bad. If she was looking for comfort that probably wasn't the best place to get it... Voight just looked stunned. Antonio had seen enough times like this, when people were scared and they reached for what was in front of them. He debated stepping forward, offering his own shoulder, helping her through this. Reactions like this were perfectly normal. She might feel a little embarrassed about it later but no one would blame her. Antonio certainly wouldn't. Of course she was upset about Eric.
But none of that explained Voight.
The way his hand slipped around her waist. At first like he was scared to move it but then like he couldn't help it. The way his head dropped onto her shoulder, like she was the breath he had been waiting to take. She curled into it, frightened and seeking comfort and Voight held her with a gentleness that made something in Antonio's stomache ache.
Antonio knew why Lana was freaking out. Heck, anyone would be in her situation.
But nothing could explain the way Voight held her.
"Hey," Voight's voice was low, but firm, his hands on her elbows drawing her back from his warmth and the sound of his heart, fast but strong. He was okay. He was okay. It was the only thing that held any focus for her, a mantra of relief, and Lana didn't want to care about anything anyone else had to say.
"He's gonna be fine. It looked worse than it was. Bullet was through and through."
It took her a moment to realize he was talking about Eric, and she felt guilty for the flash of disinterest. That wasn't fair. Eric was hurt and it should matter but every moment it took to get here had worn something down inside of her.
She was calming with the feel of his hands steadying her. The heat of every finger a reminder that he was okay. Proof he wasn't lying there hurt. Her fingers splayed against his chest, moving with its rise and fall of breath. Evidence, a solid case against that awful voice inside that had wanted her to believe the worst.
She hadn't known what it was like, to be this scared. Like she could taste her heartbeat with each pang. She felt the air from the vent above, brushing cold on her cheek. The concern in his gaze sharpened.
"Really, Lana. He's okay."
It wasn't until she tasted the tear on her lip that she realized she was crying.
She hadn't noticed. Hadn't realized how tangled her heart had become in this man until it was too late.
"That, that's good." She stepped back a fraction, straightening her sweater with nervous hands. She needed to compose herself, get control over her heavy pulse. "What happened?"
Lana saw the frown, the kind that started in his eyes and touched his lips last and her worry deepened. "We stopped, so I could meet my CI. I was heading back when I heard shots. Found Eric and my CI in an alley. The kid didn't make it."
He looked unsettled, like there was more he didn't want to say and Lana crept a half step closer. "What is it?"
"I don't know," Voight shook his head, it wasn't worth mentioning now, but Lana's hand gripped his forearm.
"Hank," she pressed, and the way his gaze met hers, a space of a moment when he heard his name. He blinked it away.
"I just couldn't make sense of the scene," he shrugged, "Once Eric is awake we'll know more."
Like why he had found a gun by Ralph's body. Why Eric had drug himself over to the boy. To try and help him, before collapsing from his wound? It wouldn't have mattered. Ralph had taken the shot to the chest. It had been quick. Gone before he met the ground and it helped, in some screwed up way, that it hadn't hurt. The kid shouldn't have died but atleast he hadn't suffered.
"Voight! Oh thank God." Lana was shoved away, their touch broken by Erin, who threw her arms around Voight's shoulders. Jay had called her and filled her in, and she had dropped everything.
"Don't scare me like that," she smacked his shoulder, stepped back, eyes clear by sheer will.
"I'm fine, kid." Voight didn't know why she had even been worried, he hadn't been anywhere near the danger. What she should be worried about was Lana. He half nodded to Lana, a subtle clue for Erin to pay attention, and her eyes widened.
"Oh, hey, how's Eric?" Erin stepped over to her friend, shifting focus obediently. Lana repeated what Voight had told her, that Eric would be fine. And she smiled because Erin was expecting it, accepted Antonio's hug, squeezed him a little when he said he was glad that Eric was okay.
Ruzek and Attwater were there. They were pleased to hear Eric was doing alright and she was touched because she knew it was for her sake. Touched and annoyed. How they just assumed she and Eric had something between them. That her life was ending because he was injured.
Her eyes found Voight, quiet, watching her. How quickly they had all assumed.
"You guys don't have to hang around. He's going to be fine. Besides, I'm pretty sure you got work to do."
She shooed them out after she assured them she was fine waiting on her own, and they left, one by one with insistant 'call me if you need me's.' Antonio offered to stay repeatedly but after a quick hug she pushed him to the door. Lana was left standing in the white hall. It wouldn't have felt right, leaving. She was the only person Eric knew in town.
So Lana stayed, reading one boring magazine after the other, watching clouds form and dissapate against a fleetingly blue sky. Waiting until the doctor told her he was awake.
"You can see him now."
Lana looked up at the nurse who stood over her, blinking away from her view out the window.
Lana flashed a polite smile, thanked her. She was suddenly nervous. Being in hospitals didn't bother her, the lobbies, nurses stations, side hallways with the vending machines. But stepping into the hospital rooms, seeing people she knew on those beds. That she never liked.
He looked pale, head back on that white, white pillow, but he grinned some when he saw her.
"Eric, hey, how you feeling?"
"Like I've been shot," he quipped, and Lana chuckled half-heartedly, adjusting her bag over her shoulder.
"I'm glad you're okay, I-"
"Excuse me," the voice in the doorway had her turning, staring at Commander Crowley with a fair amount of surprise. "I have some questions for the detective, now that he's awake."
Lana stepped back. Of course someone would be in to take Eric's statement, but the Commander herself waiting around to speak to Eric wasn't expected. Lana excused herself.
"Lani, wait," Eric's voice caught her at the door, he held out a hand, beckoning her back. Like he wanted her by his side.
It was curiosity more than anything that had her turning, a glance at the commander checking that it was okay before she came back in to hear what it was the woman was going to ask.
They were pretty standard questions. She wanted to know what had happened, how he had been shot and a boy had ended up dead in an alley. Lana watched Eric, expecting an answer.
But his brow dipped, hard, like it hurt to even think about it. Like the questions themselves confused him.
"I'm sorry, Commander, I would love to help, but the truth is everything about that alley is a blur. I know we stopped so Voight could speak to a CI. The next thing I really remember is waking up here."
The commander swallowed a flash of irritation. Being shot was a traumatic experience, immediately waking up from it could be disorienting. But she wanted details, something to settle what she had heard about Voight's involvement. She pressed, but Eric had nothing else to give.
Lana watched, the helpless shrug Eric gave, like he was trying his best and part of her wanted to tell the commander to just come back later. Hospital gowns brought out the sympathy in her. But she noticed it, the tiny flick to Eric's gaze, the laced fingers, thumbs tapping against eachother. A nervous habit. One she had noticed early on in their relationship but it took a while to realize what it meant. To catch on.
She knew full well now. Eric was lying.
The commander excused herself, telling Eric to rest up and call when he remembers more. The interview hadn't gone how she needed it to, but she wouldn't be deterred until she had sorted this out.
The others had clocked out, headed home. Voight still sat in his office, eyes on a report he wasn't reading.
His thoughts should be stuck on that kid in the alley, that cop in the hospital bed. On their case and the man they still hadn't found.
But they weren't.
It was dark hair against his chest, the tears that slipped with each shiver from her eyes. They were for another man. They should have left a bitter trail, but she had clung to him as she shed them. Like she had needed something in his touch, wanted it.
There was a knock at his door and Antonio stuck his head in. "You got a minute?"
"Yeah," Voight stood, stretching his neck, he settled on the edge of his desk. "What's up."
"How you doing?"
Voight shrugged, "Fine."
They looked at eachother an awkward second, before Antonio finally blurted out what he needed to know.
"What's up with you and Lana?"
Voight folded his arms, shoulders hopping a little in a shrug. "What do you mean?"
Antonio stuck his hands on his hips. He couldn't believe he was having this talk with his boss. "That hug, at the hospital."
"She was scared for her partner," Voight countered too immediately, and Antonio shook out a hand.
"I know. I'm not talking about her. I'm talking about you. You held her like," Antonio stumbled, not even knowing how to describe it, "Like-"
He gave up when he watched Voight's face settle. Resignation. Admittance.
Antonio had to be seeing things. Voight was... he couldn't believe it.
"Look," Antonio's laugh sounded and he swallowed it back, "I get it, it's Lana. I mean, she's great. I just," he rubbed the back of his head, face scrunching up, "I'm not sure that she's into you?"
Voight laughs. Once. Hard. "I know, kid. But I-" and he shrugs, hands in his pockets like there was just nothing he could do about it. And Antonio stares. He never thought he would see the day.
Hank Voight was in love.
"This stays here," Voight demanded, gesturing between them, and Antonio held his hands up in quick surrender.
"Yes sir."
He backed to the door, shaking his head. He had no intention of saying a word.
No one would believe him anyway.
Lana couldn't shake it, as Eric grew groggy, nodded off from the painkillers, head sinking further against his pillow. What had he been lying about?
She could be wrong. Maybe he was just frustrated he couldn't remember. Nervous. The man had just been shot for heavens sake, she should feel sorry for him.
But it wouldn't leave. Something was off, he was covering for something and she didn't like the first suspicion that came to mind.
The hall was quiet, faint beeps and whirs of equipment in other rooms. It was stagnant. No hurried footsteps, no voice crackling over the intercom. It was the closest thing a hospital ever came to sounding like peace.
A doctor approached, smile warm, asking if she was here for Eric Watts and she nodded.
She listened to the doctor's report. Eric was doing much better than they first feared and would be discharged within a day or so. She didn't smile, and the doctor frowned.
"Is everything alright?"
Lana cast a glance behind her at the closed hospital room door. "Could you... run a tox screen?"
The doctor's lips thinned a fraction as his expression turned stern. "Do you have reason to believe that's necessary?"
Lana swallowed, going off a bad hunch could ruin Eric's career. But, not saying anything, again. She couldn't do it.
"If nothing comes back, could you leave it out of the report?"
The doctor seemed to consider. He had been in this line of work a long time, knew that sometimes following protocol wasn't always the best course of action. People weren't built out of rules and regulations.
"How about we get the results, and we go from there?"
Lana smiled, thanking him quietly. He didn't look surprised, or judgmental, there was frank understanding in his eyes.
"I'll call you when the report comes in. Might be a couple days."
She left a number, and with one last look at Eric's door, Lana left.
Voight tugged the chair out from his desk, hands gripping the back a moment as he paused. It was a new shift. New day. New chance to get answers on a case they couldn't afford to be detoured from. The wrong man was imprisoned and a child kidnapper was still walking free. The biggest lead they had was that body in the park. Now he had lost his CI and he didn't even know why. Ralph got around, he got answers, but he stayed out of the shady crap that went down. Voight hadn't pegged him as a kid who would walk around armed.
Nothing in Detective Watt's shooting made sense. It was tempting, to dig in and to find out why, but they couldn't lose focus.
He couldn't lose focus.
He dropped into his seat and put a call into Platt. If they were going to get this case reopened, they needed more information.
Lana pushed open the door to the precinct, stepping on to her next shift.
Platt looked up for her work, usually stern face even sterner, and waved her over without a word.
Lana detoured, hoping Platt wasn't going to drop some other class she needed to teach into her lap. She wasn't in the mood for it. But Platt just regarded her a moment before sighing.
"How's the partner?"
"Oh," her concern made Lana feel guilty for assuming Platt just wanted something, "he's doing okay. Resting."
She had called on her way in for an update, it hadn't felt right not to, and Platt nodded.
"Hmm. That's good to hear. Hey, since you're standing here anyway," she reached under the desk and dropped a file box on the top. "Mind taking this up to Intelligence for me? Voight requested them, and those stairs don't do anything for my womanly figure."
Lana was already taking the box, "Anything else?" she inquired dryly, and Platt waved her off.
"Ill be sure to let you know."
Voight was at his desk, one elbow resting on the armrest as he frowned down at the paper in his hand. His door was open and she paused in the entry way, taking in his expression, the profile of his brow, that faint scratch that had almost healed. This life, this job, had shaped him, and you could see it, in the lines of his eyes, and the edge of his frown. It was always a part of him, framing the way he spoke. Even the way he smiled. But it made it seem even brighter, that the light in his eyes needed something to shine against, like the sunrise along the blackened piers on the shore.
He wasn't a simple person, built of just one thing, and when he glanced up at her there was pieces of it all. The weariness. Determination to do another day right. To finish without regret.
A thousand pieces of who this man was and she wanted to study it, pull more out of him. She wanted to learn him even more, even if all those parts of him were out of reach.
But that wasn't what she was here. That wasn't what would re-establish her position in this unit. She had a job to do.
"Lana, hey," he straightened up as she came in, and Lana held the box up.
"Courtesy of Platt." She dropped it on the chair he gestured at, and looked around at the several stacks of folders dotting his office. "What is all this?"
Voight stretched his back, making Lana wonder how long he had already been at it this morning.
"Missing child cases in the greater Chicago area. Looking for any connections to our case. We know there were two players here already."
"And you think it might run bigger?"
Voight shrugged, "We haven't gotten approval to reopen the case yet. Our eye witness is certain, but she already IDed someone else. If she's positive now, then what was she then?"
Lana lifted a file off of a stack on his desk. Every folder a separate case, a separate child. She almost wished they were all the act of one man. Then they could find him, end it all.
"We'll find something. We'll get our guy." She didn't know whether she said it for his sake or hers, or for just something to say that wasn't layered with a dozen different things she was trying not to think. She set the folder down abruptly. "How can I help?"
His gaze slipped over her face, like he meant to say something, before he shook it off.
"Choose a stack," he nodded to the chair across from him, and picked up another folder from his pile.
Lana settled in, pages turning and occasional glances at the man across from her, looking for anything they could use.
The commander's phone rang as she stepped through the precinct doors, and she greeted the officer at the other end of the line.
"Thought you would want to know, we picked up another witness while we were out canvasing. Guy by the name of Marcus. Says he saw the shooting."
"and?" Commander Crowley came to a halt, letting the foot traffic step around her.
"He didn't see what started it. According to him our dead kid fired and hit the detective. Detective fired back. He ran before he saw much else."
The commander thanked him, curt and distracted. She wanted to bring Voight in, but pieced together witness statements were circumstantial at best, and without a motive to tie everything together, what she had was weak. Trying to hit Voight with this would be a waste of time. Eric's statement could have been enough, but that would have to wait until the man remembered more.
It didn't mean there weren't steps she couldn't take now, and Commander Crowley made another call, a slight smile to her otherwise stern face.
A half hour had passed in the quiet before the others started to arrive.
Ruzek stuck his head in, catching sight of Lana working in Hank's office. "Something wrong with your desk, Milani?"
"Yes. It's near yours." Lana replied without glancing up from her folder.
Ruzek laughed. "I was gonna go talk to our witness, see if there's anything else she remembers that can help," he filled Voight in, and turned to Lana. "I could use another set of ears?" he offered.
Lana's head came up. "Well, I-" Ruzek didn't know yet, that Voight had taken her out of the field. With everything that had happened it should barely even be a concern, but it still left an ache. She didn't actually want to say it.
Voight sent Ruzek an annoyed look. "She's busy. You done?"
"Yeah, right. Sorry, boss." Ruzek headed out with a little head shake that said he didn't really get Voight's sudden mood, but he had never quite figured his boss out anyway.
Lana shuffled her papers in her lap, embarrasment making the movement scattered. She hadn't realized shift had started already and she didn't need to be here, taking up space in his office like this
"I'm sorry," he spoke suddenly, and she froze, looking up in obvious question. "That you couldn't go with him," Voight continued, his thumb tapping on his desk like he didn't know what else to say.
Lana shrugged, "Wasn't your call."
It was what he had said, wasn't it? A single line explanation for taking her out of the field, almost taking her out of his unit. It shouldn't have been enough. She should want to claw more information from him, demand explanations but right now? Voight wouldn't have done it if he didn't need to and there were bigger things to focus on.
She could ignore the ache. The shame. She couldn't blame him for it.
"Hmph," his thumb tapped twice more before he stood. It was unsettling, the way she looked at him. There was no resentment. He wondered if she knew how rare that was. People usually had something to accuse him of. Hell half the time he deserved it.
Lana didn't. Maybe she just hadn't seen enough, didn't know enough about him. But he would miss that, the unspoken ally of her gaze.
"I wouldn't have made that call. You do good work, you deserve to be in the field."
Lana finished gathering her papers, stood with a bit of a shrug. "There's work to do here, too."
"Yeah..." he scratched his jaw before dropping his hand. "Look, I know you said Eric needed your answer about the job yesterday. I take it, given the circumstances, that's on hold for a few days?"
"Oh," there was muddled surprise in her tone. He was asking, assuming she was still taking that stupid job, and Lana passed a hand over her brow. "I had forgotten about that," she muttered honestly. Eric getting shot and lying about it somehow had derailed a lot things from her mind.
The reminder weighed on her, and Voight's voice gentled. "How's he doing?"
Was it wrong, that she wanted to stay in that moment? Where he looked at her with such intentional focus. Care.
Did he assume, like everyone else had, that she had stopped at Eric's bedside this morning, been there to see how he was instead of calling the nurses station for an update on her way in?
Lana cleared her throat. "He's doing well. Should be discharged soon." She had a feeling she would be answering that question all day. She said it with forced cheerfulness and hopeful eyes, like it was expected of her. People were kind enough to ask and she didn't want to put her irritation on them.
Voight heard the false brightness, went to respond when his phone rang, a glance told him it was important. Lana waved as she stepped out, taking her set of folders with her. Professional and polite.
Voight grudgingly answered the commander's call.
Platt leaned her elbows on her desk, focus on the Commander's door. Voight had come down in a fowl mood and been in that office for some time now.
An officer came up intending to speak to her, and Platt held up a finger with a sharp shush. She was busy.
The officer got the hint to walk away just as Voight exited the office, and Platt hummed at the stormcloud in his expression. So it was as she thought. Commander Crowley had looked a little too pleased with herself when she had called Voight down and Platt hadn't trusted a second of it. She wanted to know what that woman was up to. She had more than a few ways of finding out.
Voight let the office door slam behind him, and Attwater blinked at it in surprise. "What's up with him?"
But Erin had already slipped out of her desk. She didn't knock, turned the knob softly and stepped inside.
"Hey. What's going on?"
Voight puffed out a breath, raking his hand across the back of his neck. "Nothing that won't blow over."
Erin folded her arms, giving him the look that said she wasn't walking away without a better answer than that.
"Crowley wanted my statement," Voight relented.
Her hand met her hip. "And?"
Voight would have laughed if he wasn't so annoyed. "And it wasn't an interview. More like an interrogation."
Erin's face scrunched up, "Interra- what like they think you're involved?"
It was ludicrous, and she watched the man who had raised her since she was a teen rest his hands on the edge of his desk like the fight was just gone from him. It was heavy, whatever it was that had been hanging on him lately. She had thought it was Justin, stress of work, but it was more than that. And it was getting tighter. Her hands fisted up.
"You know she wants you gone. But It's not like they can pin this on you, she's not crazy enough to try that. You just happened to be there. Heck if you weren't there, Eric would have bled out!"
Voight pushed off from the desk. "It doesn't matter."
Erin went to argue and a single finger stopped her. "It's not our case. Whatever theories she has aren't gonna pan out. We stay focused. And we get our work done."
"Yeah, fine. okay." Erin agreed, but didn't mean it for a second. She was going to look into this whether he liked it or not. He didn't have to know.
She had no intention of telling him.
Of course that never really stopped him from finding out, but hopefully this would buy her enough time to get to the bottom of whatever Crowley was trying to pull.