It was the sound of her phone ringing that woke her, stretched out on an unfamiliar bed, the weight of a hand on her stomach. Voight was still asleep. She scrambled for her phone, dismissing the call before it woke him.

Part of her couldn't believe she was still here, had spent the night asleep against him. Slept like she hadn't in she didn't know how long. She settled back down, turning to face him, smiling as he moved in his sleep, his hand slipping over her side to pull her a little closer. Light was coming in from a half pulled shade, and it had begun to make its way across the floor. But his face still lay in shadow. It looked younger, here. Gentler maybe.

She was content to let herself drift off again when her phone buzzed twice. Whoever had called had left a voicemail.

Lana fumbled around blindly for her phone behind her, not quite willing to move. She found it half shoved beneath her pillow, and tugged it out enough to look at it.

Lana sat up. It was the hospital. She tucked the phone against her ear, glancing around for a clock. A small black one stood on the end table, red lit numbers reading 7:03. Lana muttered a surprised curse. How Hank wasn't awake yet, she didn't know. The man hardly ever slept.

She listened to the voicemail, the tox results were in and the doctor wanted to see her. Whatever he had could help sort out this case against Voight and Lana flipped the blankets off. If she hurried she could hit the hospital and would only be minimally late to shift.

She crept across the floor, gathering her things, tugging her fingers through her hair and yanking it into a ponytail. She didn't want to wake Voight, he didn't have to come into shift today. It wasn't exactly a vacation, but she figured she might as well let the man sleep. He didn't get enough of it.

Halfway down the stairs her phone rang again, and Lana growled. Why did everyone need her today. The one morning she would have gladly procrastinated as long as humanly possible, and suddenly she was a necessary part of everyone's lives.

"What," she hissed into the phone, reaching the bottom step.

Erin responded without even noticing. "Where are you?" Lana froze. How the freak was she supposed to answer that. But Erin continued, "We're trying to get data from a phone and Antonio keeps screwing around." Antonio's voice sounded in protest in the background. Erin ignored him. "You're usually here by now."

Lana's phone traded hands as she shrugged into her coat, "And the phone's locked?" she asked, getting Erin back to the subject at hand.

"Damaged, cracked screen."

"Ah," Lana stepped outside, squinting at the sunlight. "there's a program on my computer." She put the phone on speaker long enough to text a cab, "I'll walk you through it."

"Got it." Antonio pushed back from the keyboard, shooting Erin a particularly proud of himself look, and she rolled his chair out of the way, focusing on the computer screen.

There were texts, nothing too interesting. Certainly nothing incriminating to Voight but nothing to vindicate him either. They scrolled through contacts, recent calls, looking for something to help.

"Hey, try photos." Antonio suggested.

"What, you think he took a selfie during the shooting?" Erin muttered, but she clicked on the folder icon anyway. She opened the most recent media file and Antonio let out a whistle.

"Not a selfie. A video. This is time stamped right before the shooting."

It barely played, glitched and stuttered and Antonio swore. "Well that's not supposed to be happening."

"The phone was broken, it probably corrupted the file or something."

"Well what are we supposed to do with this?" Antonio gestured at the screen, and Erin smacked his hand away.

"Be quiet, it looks like it's clearing up."

Antonio stood, peering over Erin's shoulder. It was jerky, but they could make out some of the scene.

"Okay, we got Eric in the back." Erin squinted at the image like it would force it clearer.

Antonio leaned eagerly in as another image flashed. "...And we got another person in that alley."

Ralph and Eric hadn't been alone.

They made out what they could of the rest, garbled audio and stilted images until the screen went black.

Best they could see, Eric had pulled his weapon on Ralph, but Ralph had still been recording when Eric had fired at him. He couldn't have taken the shot that dropped Eric a second later, and he never named Voight as having hired him. The only audio was someone cussing out Eric for being a cop. Erin rewound the footage, freezing the image of that third person in the ally. Whoever this guy was, they needed to find him.

Lana tugged the door to the precinct open, papers still crumpled in her hand. The doctor had been apologetic but hadn't minced words. Eric had been high. That self-righteous, smug, I got clean because of you, Lani had been using when he had pulled that trigger and dropped Voight's CI in that alley.

She wished she was surprised. She wished she could make it to anger but right now she was just so tired of his crap. He had lied about getting clean, about why he was in that blasted alley in the first place. It was only a matter of time before she figured out what else he was hiding.

Platt tried to wave her down as she cut through the lobby. The commander had been looking for Officer Milani and Platt wanted a word with Milani before she said anything to Crowley. The last thing they needed was Lana or Antonio dishing out information to the commander that she didn't need to hear.

But Lana didn't see her, not before the commander snagged her and ordered Milani into her office.

Platt muttered under her breath. This whole thing was going to turn into a train wreck if she didn't do something soon.

"Have a seat."

Lana sat, smoothing her expression as she faced the woman behind the desk. She was not in the mood to deal with this. What she needed to be was upstairs, filling Erin in on what she had found and finding other leads.

"How can I help you, Commander?"

Crowley eyed her like her smile wasn't all that convincing. "As I'm sure you're aware, I am working on the case regarding your ex partner and Hank Voight's suspension. I know you haven't been here long, but any information you have may prove helpful."

"Information?" The pages crinkled in Lana's hand.

"Anything you can think of as to why Voight would do this."

"He wouldn't." Lana snapped back, sharper than she intended, and the commander looked surprised.

"I read up on you, Milani. You have a record as straight as they come, a by-the-books officer if I've ever seen one. Working under Voight undoubtedly put you in some uncomfortable positions."

When Lana didn't respond, the commander stood, coming to lean against her desk in front of Milani.

"I'm not asking you for information against your team. But from one officer to another, don't cover for a man like Voight. He isn't worth it. It's hard enough having a dependable name for yourself without dealing with another cop's mistakes."

A lesson Lana had learned well. With Eric. She stood, "It's interesting, you're so set on not believing Voight, you haven't actually considered who you are listening to."

She dropped the results on the desk.

"What's this?" the commander twisted to retrieve the papers, scanning them.

"Tox repots. Eric was under the influence at the time of the shooting." She enjoyed it, the flash of disappointment on Crowley's face. "You're building this case around the word of a druggie."

The commander read a moment longer before setting the papers down. "This is unfortunate. and will be dealt with, but it doesn't make Voight innocent."

"You can't seriously still think Eric's telling the truth!" Lana's voice rose to an unnecessary level and the commander straightened.

"Officer Milani!" her snap silenced the room, "I understand your frustration, having to learn this about your ex-partner. But don't let it blind you. Whatever Eric has done, Voight has done far worse."

Lana sucked in a breath, losing her cool in front of Crowley was not the way to make her case.

"You're dismissed."

Lana turned on her heel, feeling Crowley's eyes on her as she left.

The commander sighed to the empty room. She didn't know what it was about Sergeant Voight that drummed up loyalty in the most unexpected places. Lifting the papers she shook her head at them.

This complicated things. She had to solidify the other testimonies now that Eric's could be questionable. She called one of her officers, telling them to bring Marcus in for an interview. Then she put a call into Eric's precinct in Miami. They needed to be informed about what their detective had been up to.

Antonio twisted the cap off his water. "So we ID the kid, maybe we find the actual shooter."

"Or at the very least figure out why Eric was in that alley." Erin reasoned around the spoonful of yogurt in her mouth, before grimacing and tossing the whole thing in the garbage bin. Eating healthy sucked.

Antonio wordlessly offered her a couple of his chips as Lana appeared in the breakroom doorway.

"What kid?"

They showed her what they had gotten off of the phone, hovered over her shoulder as she worked to clean it up. Everyone else was out working on whatever case the commander had given them in Voight's absence. Erin hadn't even bothered to check.

There wasn't much Lana could do with the file, some of the data just wasn't recoverable, but she went at what was there.

No one noticed when Platt reached the top of the stairs. She spotted them huddled around Milani's desk and cleared her throat.

"Officer Dawson, Milani, a word?"

Voight had had her back more times than she could count. It might be easy for them, coming in here and seeing how he got things done, to doubt the man. But she wanted the record set straight. They had been here long enough to know Voight would do anything for his team. Crowley didn't seem to understand that. But Antonio should. And Lana would too if she stuck around instead of running back to her old partner.

"Can it wait?" Erin asked, "Lana's finishing up something for us."

Platt came over, wondering what was so important they thought they could ignore her. She scowled at the image half loaded on the screen.

"What are you interesting in him for?"

Antonio paused with a handful of chips. "You know him?"

Platt shrugged. "They just brought him through downstairs. He's a witness to the shooting."

"No," Lana interrupted, eyes on her screen as the image finally finishing loading, revealing the weapon clearly tucked into the suspect's belt. "He's the shooter."

"I don't have time for this," Crowley stated pointedly, facing down the four officers that had interrupted her on her way to questioning the witness.

"All due respect, ma'am," Platt spoke up, "You'll want to see this."

They laid it out. The photo of Marcus, armed. Images of him and Eric together in that same alley. Ralph hitting the ground before someone else pulled the trigger on Eric.

"Eric was in that alley to score. His dealer realized he was a cop and shot him. Ralph was in the wrong place, wrong time." Antonio summed up what they had with an irritating amount of confidence.

"And Voight had nothing to do with it," Erin added, earning herself a disapproving glance.

Crowley folded her arms. She couldn't ignore evidence, and she hadn't gotten to where she was by being so blinded by an agenda she couldn't admit that she was wrong. If what they were saying was correct, she would get to the bottom of it.

She took the photos from Erin's hands. It looked like her interview just became an interrogation.

Jay let out a whistle as Erin filled him in, "You think she'll get a confession?"

Erin shrugged, "The commander is still interrogating him, but he's not talking. He's gotta be scared, he shot a cop."

"Yeah, but his record's clean." Attwater interjected, "Either he's new to the game or he's smarter than he looks." He glanced at Lana as she walked by. "You really think your boy Eric could have done all that?"

Lana pulled her hair out from under the collar of her jacket she had just slipped on. "I'm going to find out what exactly happened right now."

"Wait, hold up," Antonio hopped up from his seat, "You gonna question him, you should do it here." She paused long enough to look at him and wonder why. "Crowley isn't going to let this go easily. The more by the books we do it, the less she can dismiss it later."

Lana seemed to consider for a very long moment before she sighed. "In that case, one of you have to bring him in. I haven't been cleared for field work."

She wanted nothing more than to drag answers from Eric herself, but they needed this settled once and for all.

Erin set down her pen. "I'll go with Antonio. We'll bring him back and you can have a go at him then."

Eric opened the door with a bright enough smile.

"Why hello, Erin. Antonio, right? Can I help you guys?" he shook the man's hand with a gaze that did a quick sizing up, and the last time they had hung out flashed in Antonio's mind. When Lana had snuggled up to make Eric jealous, and he settled his hands in his pockets with a self satisfied grin.

"Yeah, you can come down to the station and answer some questions for us."

"About the shooting? Well I've told the commander everything I remember. I'm happy to come down, but," he spread his hands before clasping them together, "I don't want to waste your time."

"Kinda like you're doing now?" Erin quipped.

Eric rolled his shoulders with a long-suffering sigh. "Look, I'm not sure what Lani told you guys about me. We all know how she gets when she's in her moods." he laughed like he was expecting solidarity.

Antonio stepped into him, and Eric took a clumsy step backward.

"First of all, It's Lana. Second of all, she hasn't been the one doing the talking. Our boy Marcus has had a lot to tell. About why you were really in that alley. Now let's go."

Erin paled a fraction beneath that perfect tan. "Let me just grab my coat."

"What are we doing here, Lana."

Eric sat across the metal table from her, gaze drifting to his reflection in the glass behind her.

"Determining just how much of your original statement was a lie." She laid the first paper in front of him, the official tox report from the hospital. "A copy has already been sent to your superiors."

"Lani..." he gripped the pages, eyes holding a poignant betrayal that she stared into without an ounce of remorse.

"You never got clean, did you?"

The paper fluttered down as he released it. "I tried to. I swear I did. And it worked, for awhile. But you don't know how stressful the job can be and I-"

Lana snorted. "Excuse me," she looked away to compose herself before looking back. "You do realize we have the same job."

"Well sure, but..." he trailed off, like whatever he wanted to say was obvious, and Lana's tongue slipped against the inside of her cheek to refrain from responding.

"You went into that alley to score. Then what happened."

Eric shifted. "Regardless of why you think I was there, I already explained what happened. Voight's CI drew and fired at me. He told me that he was doing it for Voight. I don't pretend to understand why Voight would want this to happen. You work with the man, you've seen how he behaves."

"Know what else I've seen?" Lana pulled the bagged cellphone from her pocket and dropped it on the table. "Ralph's home video." She smiled, "You've always wanted to be a star."

Eric rolled his eyes, but she didn't miss the way his bottom lip tucked into his teeth. He was nervous and trying desperately not to show it.

"I'm trying to help you, Eric."

He laughed like she was all wrong, but Lana just watched him.

"I know you didn't mean for this." It was the age old story. Honestly she never thought it would happen to him. "It started simple. A pill or two there. Something you could control. It wasn't hurting anybody. Maybe it even made you better at your job. You could focus more. Relax on the off hours. It was helping you."

Eric's hands came to rest on the table, fingers nervously tapping together. "I didn't plan this, Lani." He dropped his hands into his lap, leaning forward. "I didn't intend for anyone to get hurt."

"Marcus was going to fire at you," she supplied, voice deceptively gentle, and some part of her truly sorry to see him like this now. This wasn't the man he ever wanted to be.

"I panicked. The kid, the CI was in the way and I must have hit him instead. I didn't mean to, it was self defense, Lani. You gotta believe me."

"I do, Eric." she nodded. "You didn't set out to hurt anyone. You were protecting yourself."

Relief washed over him, shown in the eyes she used to love to stare into, and Lana's forearms hit the table as she leaned in.

"Just like you were protecting yourself when you drug yourself over to Ralph and hid his phone. Like you were protecting yourself when you blamed Voight for all of this. It was always about doing what was best for you, and you didn't care who got hurt."

Eric's hands fisted in frustration. "Voight's a bad cop, Lani. I was doing you a favor! I heard they were looking in to him, and we both know he deserves to be behind bars. It just fell into my lap, if I said he was responsible the Commander could close her case and I wouldn't get charged. What did you expect me to do?"

Lana pushed back from the table slowly.

"Honestly, based on the man I once knew, I would have expected you to do the right thing. But now?" her scorn was mixed with something truly sad, "I wouldn't expect anything else out of you." She laughed once, darkly, "You know, I doubted the kind of cop I was because of you. And you were never worth that."

She left him, hunched in a cold metal chair, perfect posture forgotten as the weight of reality finally settled over him.

"You okay?" Antonio was waiting for her, and Lana shrugged.

"We got him. He confessed to the shooting and setting Voight up. We got enough for the commander to get something out of Marcus."

"Good, that's great." Antonio gave her a goofy high-five before checking his watch. "Look, shift's almost up, you wanna grab a drink? Celebrate?"

"Thanks, but no," Lana shook her head with a smile. It had been an excruciatingly long day and there was only one place she wanted to go.

She hit the locker room, stepping out of her clothes she had been in since yesterday morning, and rummaged through her gym bag. All she had was workout clothes, but they were clean and she wasn't complaining.

Voight didn't answer his cell, but she wasn't too bothered. He only used the thing when he had to for work and she hadn't heard from him all day.

She stepped out as a sky that had darkened without her notice opened up, and rain came pummeling down.

He wasn't expecting this. To have her show up here, drenched and shivering and he stepped aside without a word.

She peeled out of her jacket, bouncing in place to warm up until she noticed she was leaving a puddle in his entry way. Voight ducked into the hall closet for a towel and she took it.

"Thanks." She pressed the towel against her face, ran it over hair that grew more wild as she shook it dry. Her light grey tshirt was damp and taut against her skin, black sweatpants rolled at her hips like she had turned in for the night and left without bothering to change.

The rain had pulled out the fragrance of her hair and it teased against him as she moved. Voight flexed his fingers and folded his arms behind his back.

"What's up, Milani?"

"One second," she chirped, looking up at him as she flipped her hair over her head and rubbed the towel against it. "There," she straightened, dark hair bouncing back into place, and Voight swallowed. She frowned at the puddle on the floor. "I'll clean that up."

Voight reached for the dampened towel. "Don't worry about it."

She hung on to the towel as he went to take it, held his gaze with concern.

"What's wrong with you?"

Voight barked out a laugh. He didn't know what was going on, why excited energy was pouring off of her in waves.

"Nothing." He added at her pointed look, and Lana sighed, releasing the towel.

Voight moved into the kitchen, laid it over the sink.

"Why are you here, Milani?" he faced her, back against the counter. Not trusting himself to be near without doing something stupid.

All morning he had been stuck on replay, waking up and she just wasn't there. After him asking her to stay. After her telling him she wanted to be there, she had left without a word like he was nothing but a one night stand.

She stepped into the kitchen, hesitant, curious. looking around. She had never actually seen it before.

He realized she had taken her shoes off, bare feet padding closer on the hardwood floor and there was something so frustratingly domestic about it that felt entirely too right.

She stopped, pressing her weight onto her toes in a bit of uncertainty.

"Well, I have news."

He made her tea. Before she had fully even grasped the fact that he owned a tea kettle, she was seated at his kitchen table, a steaming mug in front of her with him, waiting and a little tense in the seat across from her.

He looked so at home here.

Which was a completely stupid thought because he was in his home, but his long sleeved white tshirt and grey flannels made him look like he belonged in front of a fireplace pictured in Homes and Garden's magazine. She had come in to his space, personal and relaxed and it settled around her. Calming.

She wanted that, to work for a team that had that type of leadership. To have that kind of support behind her. It was hard won, hard to define, but even if she was stuck behind a desk here, having Voight's support made her a better officer. Made her proud of the work she was a part of. She had never wanted to come here, never wanted to leave Miami or what she had there. But now. Now she didn't know how she had ever considered going back. Giving this up. Giving him up.

"It's about Eric. He was lying."

Voight waited a few seconds before shrugging, "Yeah." He already knew that, and Lana rolled her eyes.

"No, I'm saying now we can prove it. You're not a suspect anymore."

Voight's lips pursed as he nodded a few times. "Good."

Lana gave a half laugh, "I sort of figured you'd be happier about that."

He shrugged. "I am," his fingers tapped the table twice like he was holding back what he really wanted to say.

"Seriously, what's up."

He pressed back in his seat, arms across his chest like a wall she wasn't welcome to cross. "You could have just called."

Lana took a second. "You didn't answer your phone."

He didn't really have anything to say to that.

Two months ago he would have gladly shown up at her door, drowned the day in Jack and the taste of her lips. Let himself believe that that was all this was, a way to end the day. She had never acted like they were anything more.

Until yesterday. When she had promised with every part of her that she was here to stay just for him to wake up to her gone.

"Well. Thank you for the report." He got up, moved to the sink to pour out his cup like she wasn't even there and Lana sputtered.

"What, that, that's it?"

"What else do you want there to be." Voight shot back, eyes dark and flashing. Why did this keep happening to him? Why did he keep coming that much closer knowing she was just gonna pull away.

"How bout you tell me why you're acting like this!" She had come here telling him they had worked like crazy to get his name cleared and he was acting like he didn't care.

"Like what." Hard and unmoving.

Lana just sat there. "Like you don't want me here."

He turned away from her, rested the heel of his hands on the edge of the counter and leaned over them.

"What time did you leave."

The quiet question filled the kitchen.

"What do you mean?"

"Last night," he faced her, back against that counter and arms back over his chest. "What time did you leave?"

Lana pushed her mug away from the edge of the table, and stood up. That's what was bothering him?

"I didn't, Hank. I got a call this morning on a lead in your case, and I didn't want to wake you." She didn't think he would care. Never realized how something as simple as that actually meant anything to him. She had learned so much about the man he was and there was still so much she didn't know.

His shoulder dropped and he looked away, uncomfortable. "I thought-" he started, and Lana came to a stop in front of him.

"You thought I walked away again."

He blew out an exhale, not quite looking at her. "Yeah, I guess."

Her hands met his forearms, tugging them gently open, giving her room to slip closer to him. "Well, you were wrong."

He coughed out a laugh, looking down at her with a begrudging smile. "Something tells me you've been wanting to tell me that for a while."

"Oh that's not the last time you're going to be hearing that from me."

She was trembling, clinging to him like to release him was to lose him. Night had fallen as the storm played on and he had pulled her to bed under the sound of the rain.

He tilted her chin up and captured her lips. His kiss stayed, connecting, as her body built and fell beneath him, the sound of his name a whisper in the dark.

She fell asleep against him. Felt his fingers threading through her hair. Slow and simple and it made her smile. Made his pulse that much stronger in his veins.

She was staying. Soft and here and he lay his forehead against hers.

She awoke to the sound of her alarm. It had been so long since she had actually slept through to it going off that she almost didn't recognize it. Her hand fumbled for her phone, and found Voight's searching one. He threaded his fingers through hers.

"Alarm," Lana muttered in protest, trying to shut it off as he tugged her to him.

"It can wait." he growled, voice deep with sleep, and Lana laughed.

"It'll stop eventually."