"Hank Voight, you are suspended, pending the investigation of your involvement in the shooting of Eric Watts."

Voight considered the Commander standing across from his desk, flanked with officers on either side.

"On what grounds."

Crowley didn't appreciate his calm, arrogant and so certain nothing could take him down, and the Commander sniffed. "The testimony of Detective Eric Watts."

There, she saw it, a faint flinch in his gaze like she had struck a nerve. He hadn't been expecting her to find enough evidence, but she had. Not enough to arrest but enough to get him off of this job and out behind the cover of his badge.

"Surrender your badge and gun. And leave the premises."

She could tell he debated it. A calculating look as temper threatened to flare, and she nodded just enough for her officers to step forward. This was her precinct, her office, and there wouldn't be any disillusionment of who was in charge.

"This isn't gonna play out, Commander," his badge hit the desk with a satisfying thud, "You're wasting resources when I got a case to solve." His weapon was placed with less force just beside.

"A case your people never got permission to reopen." The commander pointed out, "An oversight that will be corrected. In your absence."

An officer stepped forward, reaching for Voight's arm to escort him out when a look stopped him cold.

"I'll walk by myself, kid."

And he did. Past Erin's furious expression and the restraining hand Jay had on her arm. Past the desk that stood empty, Lana still out, still helping Eric. Did she know? That it was his testimony that was forcing Voight out the door.

A silent room waited until they disappeared down the stairs, then Erin jerked away from Jay.

"We're not seriously going to let this happen, are we!"

"...What just happened?" It didn't take Attwater long to realize that no one was in the mood to answer his question.

"Look, we'll figure something out," Jay reached for Erin again, her look making it painfully clear she was not in the mood to be touched.

"I'm going to see what's going on. Platt should know something."

But Antonio cut her off. "Not in that mood you aren't. We don't need you starting something with the commander when Voight's already on thin ice. I'll go."

"He's right," Jay added, "you need to cool off some."

Erin didn't look happy, but she backed down enough.

Attwater glanced at his watch, "Oh shoot, Jay, the meeting." he grabbed his coat, hurrying Jay along. They were already late and this whole fiasco would just have to wait.

"Babe, I gotta go," Jay had completely forgotten they were meeting a witness today, "You'll be alright?" he hesitated at her side, halfway through shrugging into his coat.

"Yes. Go. I'll be fine." She waved them out, taking a slow breath.

"So..." Ruzek began in the almost vacant space.

Erin sent him a dark glance, 'Shut it, Adam."

"That's all I know, kid." Platt tapped the stack of papers she held into a straight line, and jammed them under the stapler.

Antonio frowned, Erin was gonna want more than that. All Platt could say was Eric's statement had been enough to suspend Voight, and they had just witnessed that much upstairs.

"Well if you hear anything else..."

Platt's frown was tense, "You got it."

He moved for the stairs when he was interrupted. "Detective Dawson." The commander stood in her office doorway, regarding him expectantly, "A word."

Antonio took the seat across from her, keenly aware that Platt's gaze had tracked every step he had made into this office.

"Did you need something, Commander?"

Emma Crowley's gaze passed over him once, assessing. She knew full well the rocky way Antonio had come to work under Hank Voight, and he had always been the uncertain link in that unit's errant chain.

"We have a case against Voight, Detective. Witness statement's, a detective's report. I'm sure you've heard something of this by now."

Antonio nodded enough to admit that rumours were flying everywhere, and he may have heard a few.

"We have enough to suspend, obviously. But I don't want to push for arrest until what we have is solid."

Antonio spread his hands. "How do I come in?"

Crowley set back in her seat, "We need motive. I know they argued, but we need more than that. You work with the man. Have you seen anything, professionally or personally, to indicate why he would go after Eric Watts?"

He went to deny it, when one face filled his mind.

Lana.

Eric was here to take away the woman Voight loved. It was as basic a motive as it could get.

Antonio cleared his throat.

Voight poured a drink, let it sit in his hand, looking at him. He hadn't actually thought it would get this far.

The glass clanked as he set it on the side table. He reached for a folder on the children's case. Read without taking anything in before dropping the folder with a scoff.

Eric Watts had finally given a statement. What was supposed to take the wind out of Crowley's pursuit and get them all back focused on the job at hand, had somehow been the cincher she needed to suspend him.

What the hell could Eric have said?

It worried him. It worried him because the truth wouldn't have done it. Eric had lied.

Voight wasn't a stranger to less than upfront reports. Conveniently worded statements that left the truth just a little in the background. He was aware of the grey area that they sometimes had to operate in. And to be frank he did it well.

Sometimes people made mistakes, or criminals learned to reside in between the letters of the law. Sometimes steps had to be taken and sometimes lies had to be told.

For his team. For the job. For the safety of the people in it.

But for as much as he didn't know about Eric, one thing was painfully clear. The man lied to benefit himself.

Voight didn't know what had gone down in that alley. Eric was the only one who knew the truth and he was content to put the blame on Voight. It shouldn't surprise him. Self preservation fueled the crime that filled his streets. But they were supposed to be above that. They were supposed to be working against that.

Once she took that job in Miami, Lana would be working for that. For a man that got his own back at the expense of others. That messed with Lana's life here just to convince her to move back home. Lana should never have to be in that position, with a leader who wouldn't have her back. She couldn't work for a man like that.

How had she fallen for a man like that?

Maybe it had been easy. Years had gone in to their partnership, their relationship, and Lana saw the best in people with an irritating amount of persistence. She saw something in Eric, enough to fight to win him back. Enough to use what was at hand to make him jealous.

And Voight had thought it meant something to her. How the hell had he ever been that naive. Stuck in a memory he couldn't stop reliving. At work. At home. Thoughts would drift, reality would fade for one second, and he would hear it again. The tension of her words against the strain of his control. I want whatever you want to give me, Hank.

But all she had wanted was leverage. Used him, used Antonio. Just to get Eric back.

That one truth had threatened to taint it all. Every touch perserved in his mind left with a dark shadow. A whisper that it had all been a lie.

But that was the greatest lie of all, wasn't it. Because she had never promised him anything. Owed him nothing. She had every right to use him for what they had always been. Basic, no strings. He couldn't call it a lie just because he wanted to believe a different truth. She had had every right to want Eric back.

And Voight had let her. Accepted she was going to walk away. Figured a clean job in Miami would be what she wanted. A chance to be the cop she used to be. So he had stepped aside, kept his mouth shut. Faced her every day without letting that anger in. He couldn't blame her. Didn't need to complicate his life with reactions he had no business not keeping under control. There was no place to be unsteady in his job. And he had proven, if only to himself, he was not as volatile as they all liked to believe him to be.

Voight had been reasonable. Collected. Prepared to let her go.

But now he was face to face with the realization that the man she was using him to get back, was completely worthless.

Whatever Lana saw in Eric, did she see this? Did she know that he had lied? That he had manipulated her into going home?

Did she know?

A sound left Voight, a laugh mangled around a curse as another thought dropped in the pit of his stomach.

Or did she believe Eric?

Drink downed, he poured another. The glass was cold beneath his fingers, hand clenched as he considered the reality. It was his word against Eric's. His team would back him, might not even fully believe him, but they would do it. The commander would never hear a word he said, would doubt his innocence til the day he retired. Erin would believe him.

But Lana? Would she?

A crack sounded, a spider web splintering through the glass beneath the white of his knuckles.

He didn't want to know.

"Look, commander. I don't always agree, or even like the man. But I think you're off base with this one."

Crowley's brow peaked, "How so."

Antonio leaned forward. "Voight put the call into the ambulance. Kept pressure on the wound so Eric wouldn't bleed out before they arrived. Why would he do that if he wanted him dead?"

Crowley shrugged, "Could have been concerned about witnesses at that point. Attention drawn from the gunfire."

"And? There's a dozen different ways he could have let Eric die while looking like he was helping him."

The commander's expression turned questioning at how easily Antonio seemed aware of that information, and Antonio moved on.

"Point is, why order a hit just to save the guy's life."

Crowley didn't look remotely swayed. "Eric's statement shows the shooter naming Voight as being behind it before he fired."

"Maybe so," Antonio shrugged. He wasn't getting anywhere and he knew it. "But as for motive?" He drew in a short breath, "I can't think of a single thing Voight had against the guy. Professionally or personally."

He stood, "Is there anything else, Commander?"

She dismissed him, and Antonio headed for the stairs, feeling Platt's disapproving look on him the entire way.

He hadn't finished enough drinks when that knock sounded. Voight knew it would be her.

Here to yell at him. Ask for the truth, some way to make sense of what Eric had told her.

Maybe just to ask him why, why he had done it. He wouldn't be able to face that.

"Milani." He looked at her there on his doorstep. "What can I do for you?"

He wasn't going to let her in, didn't want to see that defensive anger burn in her for a man that didn't deserve it. But he should have known he wasn't gonna last. A hand on his arm, gaze barely pleading, and he was stepping aside, watching as she brushed past him into his own home. Letting her in once again. He never did learn where she was concerned.

She was on edge, frustrated enough she couldn't stand still and he lost more patience with every second, waiting for her to admit why she had come. Instead of keeping up the guise that she was here to see if he was okay.

"Why are you here, Milani?" he questioned again, and Lana faced him.

"I wanted to make sure you were alright."

He laughed once, looking away, a reckless kind of sarcasm in his eye.

"That's good. Your man told you I got him shot, and you're just checking in?" He wasn't used to this feeling. He had known anger, but this? He hadn't wanted someone in so long, had forgotten how sick it could feel, the thought of them with someone else.

"Snuggling up to Antonio wasn't enough to do it. Guess I was phase two?" He could have done it, he swore he could have kept his head if Eric was worth her wanting him. But Voight didn't just have to let her go. He had to let him have her.

"What are you talking about, Hank? She was indignant, hand on his arm. Grip tight, tugging on him just slightly and he wished he didn't love it, the fire she held in her eyes. Wished he didn't want it. He shook his arm free like if he broke the touch it would break this feeling.

"I heard, Lana, about your plan to make Eric jealous."

She was looking at him like she didn't know what he was talking about, telling him he just didn't understand and some part of his control broke.

"No I don't understand," he stepped into her, backing her against the table with a clatter. "How you could be planning to go back to that? He won't have your back, Milani." She needed to know that. She could love Eric all she wanted, Voight could never stop that. But it was still his job to keep her safe and he wouldn't let go of that. He would never let got of that. She could handle the job, but selfish leaders got good cops killed. "You don't care that he's lying now, but care about that. You can't work for him."

"I'm not gonna work for him!" She railed at him, so angry he saw the tension in her jaw, the way her chin tilted to glare up at him. "I never was, but you were so ready to get rid of me you weren't willing to hear it!"

Get rid of her? "Why the hell would I want to do that, Milani." She couldn't seriously believe that. All he could ever want was her here. Even angry and screaming up at him with more heat than Voight had felt for too long in his life. If he had any choice at all. If what he wanted mattered at all.

"Because I screwed up! I screwed up and you told me to go home!"

"You wanted to go!" What was she talking about? "Back to Miami, and back to Eric!"

"I never wanted ERIC!" Her denial cut, an insult to the pain that wouldn't stay locked beneath the surface, and he struggled against control that wanted to break.

"Don't lie to me, Milani." His hand met the wall behind her, body leaning into her space as his gaze never left hers. "I saw you in the hospital. You fell apart when he got shot. People don't react like that for someone they don't care about."

Her breath hitched, and something inexplicable filled her eyes. They swelled with tears, wide and almost frightened.

Voight felt his anger die. Vacant and just waiting for her to admit it. The longer her silence held the emptier his chest felt until the air threatened to implode inside of him.

"Lana?" Just say it. He needed this to end. For her to just tell him she was in love with Eric

She squeezed her eyes shut, opened them with a shaky breath and met his gaze.

"I thought it was you." With a whisper she undid every thing he had been prepared for, and Voight shook his head.

"I don't-" he didn't understand.

"We didn't know who was hurt." Her voice wavered, her hands gripping the edge of the table behind her, shoulders hunched forward like she wanted to hide. "I thought it was you. I'm sorry," the words caught, "I know you don't, you never wanted that from me."

Never wanted what from her? To be that torn at the thought that he had been hurt? To have seen how much she cared for Eric and wished a thousand times over he could feel one drop of that? It was etched into memory. The fear in her as she had clung to him, the tears and panic in her eyes. It had been for Eric. Eric was shot and she was terrified, it had been obvious to everyone there. It had been for Eric. It was the mantra that had ran through his mind everytime he refused to forget the way she had run to him. Everytime he was weak enough to want to wonder what it would have felt like if that fear had been for him.

And now she was, she was...?

"I get it." Lana scoffed. The way he was looking at her, tense with confusion, almost willfully not understanding. Lana couldn't take it back now, no matter how much he didn't seem to want to hear it. "But don't you dare stand there and say any of that was for Eric."

His hand fisted against the wall, breath tight and controlled in his chest. Line of his jaw flexing as his mouth worked with words he didn't know how to say.

There was fire building behind tear washed eyes, pulse a rapid thud in her ears. Voice shaken, words scarcely loud enough to be heard. "I fell apart, Hank, because of you."

She counted the seconds, the silence that passed behind unreadable eyes, feeling the humiliation spread. He was probably trying to find a way, to have to tell her again that he couldn't give her what she wanted.

"Lana, I-" But she shook her head, not ready to hear it, the rejection.

"Forget it, Voight." She tried to duck away but his left hand met the table with a thud, cutting her off.

"I never wanted you to go." He didn't know how to believe her. He did not know how to process what he had just heard.

I thought it was you.

A stubborn heart, doubting what should have been obvious, but he couldn't let her walk away.

It raced across her skin, watching him fight the words she never thought he would say. "I thought you'd be happy there. Miami. With Eric. I thought it's what you wanted but I-"

He turned away, hand scrubbing across his mouth, leaving her standing in what felt like sudden cold.

"But what?" Lana asked, aware that her voice shook, not willing to let him trail off, leave her unanswered.

His hand fell to his side as he turned back to her. Slowly. Resigned. Eyes frank and honest. They weren't tender. There was nothing sweet in the way he looked at her, but it calmed her. Like that feeling when sunlight spreads and the leaves turn golden and you're standing in a space that's free. It felt like abject certainty.

"I want you here. On my team." It held her, the raw truth in his eyes. He wasn't sculpting words or trying to win her. It was as basic and as reckless as a man standing against the sun. "Lana. I just," he shook his head like he had given up trying to ever pretend he was any match for it at all. "I want you."

There were two steps between them. Two steps of space and doubt that he didn't know what to do. There was a hollow place within him where the truth had been hidden and now that it was out it was like his last defense had fallen.

She knew. This woman who had disrupted every part of his life like a mockery of what he thought he needed. Had forced him to feel then shoved him away for showing it. Shut him out and made him miss her with an ache that never really went away. Left it lodged in the walls of his heart to thrum to life every time she let him close.

She knew he wanted her.

And he watched the slightest smile lift the corner of her lip.

She crashed into him. No hesitation. No uncertainty. A single response, body and soul, and he caught her against him.

He couldn't let her go. Wouldn't dare to. She laughed, breathless against his lips and felt him grunt in response.

Two people, melded together. Drawn to eachother, into eachother. They had danced, for months they had danced around one unavoidable truth. Stepping together and away, synchronized pulses, but always coming back.

Chased and being chased. She couldn't avoid it and neither could he.

She broke and she let herself, felt his thumb catch the tear as it fell.

"Hank-" she buried her head in his neck, pressed her hands into his back as he slipped an arm around her. Breathed in the scent of warm sandalwood, felt the rough texture of his shirt against her cheek.

There was a knock at the door, three insistent raps. Voight barely lifted his head from where it rested on hers.

"You gonna get that?" Lana asked, and felt the arms around her rise and fall in a shrug.

"No."

The knock came again, louder. Olinsky's voice coming through the door.

"Quit taking your time, it's windy out here!"

Voight rolled his eyes. "Give me a second."

He crossed to the door, aware of the way Lana slipped into the hall, no doubt wanting to avoid having to explain why she was here.

"You need something, O?" he opened the door without saying hello, and Olinsky huffed.

"Figured you'd want these." He shoved a box at Voight. "Commander isn't letting us work on it at the office. You gonna invite me in?"

"No." Voight didn't even consider, and Olisnky's mouth twitched.

"You wound me." He went to leave, before he paused.

"Did you do it?"

"Do what?" Voight snapped, and Olinksy rocked his head to the side in thought.

"Detective Watts, you involved?" He figured he might as well ask, if Crowley came crawling then he'd know what they were dealing with.

Voight's tongue passed over his teeth. "No."

"Alright," it was enough for Olinksy, and he turned. "Oh, and uh, tell Milani I said 'hey,'"

He winked once, before flipping his collar up and jogging away. He had known Hank Voight for enough decades to know something had been up. Voight wasn't an easy read but if he was patient enough he could usually figure it out. That Lana had gotten under his skin had slowly become apparent. This? That had just confirmed it. Voight had just been suspended, and for something he hadn't even done. Normally he'd be out for blood and not shy about how he planned on getting it.

He wouldn't be answering his door with that blasted glimmer in his eye and the faint scent of roses.

Milani was there and Voight looked suspiciously like happiness. Olinsky was just glad to stay out of it.

Lana was a spitfire and a steady cop. If Voight was lucky enough to convince a woman like that to stick around, well, he deserved it.

"What are we doing here?" Antonio asked, hands on his hips at the end of the alley. Erin stood a few paces ahead, arms folded and gaze roaming the pavement.

"We need to figure out what actually happened. And you didn't need to come."

"Look, I don't think he did it, okay?" His hands were in his pockets and his jacket tugged open as he spread his hands in a shrug, "so you can stop thinking I'm gonna mess this up for you. I'm here to help."

"Then help," Erin walked to the edge of the alley, police chalk still visible where Eric had been shot. "The kid supposedly sees him," she pointed at Antonio, and he stepped to where the report said Ralph had fallen, "Names Voight and fires. Hits Eric, but he fires back."

"Hits and kills Ralph," Antonio took over. "Single shot to the chest. Good shooting."

"Yeah, especially with a bullet hole in his side," Erin responded, her hand pressed against her side.

"Lucky shot maybe? So Ralph drops, loses his grip on the gun, dead before he hits the ground."

"But Eric drags himself over to him," Erin stepped closer, "Why?" she asked, taking another step.

"Neutralize the threat?" Antonio suggested the possibility, but Erin didn't seem convinced.

"He would have been in agony. Ralph wouldn't have even been moving."

"So what are you thinking, he crawled over for a different reason?"

Erin had almost closed the distance now, each step an inspection of the ground like it would have the answers they needed. At the very least it helped her think.

"They didn't find anything on Ralph's body. A wallet but there wasn't much in it." She muttered.

"Just a wallet? What a bout a phone."

Erin came to a stop in front of him. "Report said he didn't have one."

"What teenage kid you know doesn't have a cell phone?"

Erin crossed her arms, "Well not every kid can afford one, Antonio."

He leaned in just enough to smirk. "Then how did Voight text him to meet him here."

Erin shoved his shoulder excitedly.l "We need to find that cellphone."

Two pairs of eyes turned towards the dumpster, neither one ready to dive in.

"You're smaller. You'll fit better."

"You're taller, you can reach better." Erin shot back, and Antonio backed up a step.

"He's your semi-dad."

Erin ground out a long sigh. "Fine."

"Wait," Antonio caught her arm as she went to climb in, "Eric was on the ground."

She paused long enough for realisation to dawn, and a grin formed. "He was on the ground."

Antonio dropped to the pavement, pulling out a light, shining it under the dumpster. There were lumps and shadows he did not want to identify, then something glinted in the back.

"There, I think I see it."

It took some stretching, and navigating a few questionable scents, but Erin pulled out the phone.

"Screen's busted" she muttered, flipping it over, "but the cards probably still intact."

"Well," Antonio bumped her elbow with his own, "let's see what's on it."

"I'm supposed to be helping you," Lana muttered in between the brush of his lips and the pass of his hand down her side.

"You are," Voight countered, pushing aside the file in her lap until it hit the floor. The box Olinsky had brought sat beside him, open and barely touched. She had reached across Voight for another folder and his hand had caught her own.

Now it gripped her thigh, tugging her impatiently on to him. She was so worried about figuring this case out, so focused on working and getting him back on the job. Insisting they work through this case like she hadn't unraveled every tangled string of his life. Voight couldn't even pretend to focus on those files right now.

She was here. Right now she was here and with him and he would be a blasted fool to even try and let that go.

She frowned at him with half-hearted scolding, but her eyes were full of thought, like she was trying to analyze the depth of his expression.

"Something on your mind?" his fingers trailed up her arm, over the raised shivers of her skin, slipped across her collar bone.

"You didn't used to want this, Voight."

He hummed,"tried not to," his hand moved over the curve of her hip beneath the hem of her shirt. "Guess I wasn't too good at that."

"How long?" her voice went light as the pads of his fingers traced her skin.

"Long enough I thought it'd never happen," his shoulders bounced in a rough shrug, trying to hide the way his voice almost cracked. "Long enough to drive myself insane."

"I had no idea," she raised up enough to rest her forehead against his neck, wanting to hear the thud of his heart.

She felt him swallow, his fingers playing with a loose thread on her sleeve, suddenly uncertain, and she sat up.

"What?"

His head cocked and he looked up at her. "I can't deny I've wanted this, Milani. But are you sure you do?"

The doubt in his eyes, the wariness. Like he couldn't bring himself to believe and she wanted to prove it a thousand different ways.

"I told myself I didn't. That we were nothing. But I couldn't stop coming back to you... Seeing you with Benson drove me insane," she admitted it against his lips, and he let out a shaky curse.

"I didn't know... I never thought you would want-" he broke off with a shake to his head.

"I wanted the right to hold you. To be with you." To be everything she thought Olivia got to be for him. To have him, not just for a convenient distraction, but who he was. "You have no idea how many times I wanted to ask you to stay."

He kissed her, until her heart raced and her body felt weak, until she was panting for air and locked tight against him. Something thudded in her heart, it was full and expansive and a tiny little part of her whispered that she was getting too close. Dropping her walls when she needed to run away. She hadn't felt like this in a long time, overwhelmed and desperately wanting more.

"Then stay, please, tonight."

He kissed her again, until her fingers gripped the back of the couch and she was damp with sweat from the heat of their bodies. Until he had pried away the doubts that didn't deserve a say and she was left only wanting him.

"Please, Lana. Just stay."