Sitting in his office at the 21st that evening, Hank looked at a picture of the hooker who had been murdered by Volcan Baranov. Now she didn't look so much like Anna Avalos. There were similarities, sure, but not enough for him to react the way he had in that bedroom. Not enough to start seeing Anna in her place. Not enough to freeze up on a crime scene. He had never done that before in his career, not once. And he knew he could never do it again.

Interrupting his thoughts, Kim walked into the office and closed the door, making him look up. Most of the team had already gone home at the end of the shift, he knew.

"Something on your mind?" he asked, well aware of what it was going to be.

"I need to talk to you, Sarge. I'm worried about you. We all are. Someone needed to say something, so, well, here I am."

Hank knew better than to go on the defensive. His team had every right to call him out for freezing up. In different circumstances, it could have been dangerous.

"I'll address the team tomorrow, Kim. Thank you for taking on the responsibility of coming in here."

"Sarge," she objected thinking she was being blown off.

For Hank, the fact that it was Kim who had been the one to step forward was important. It helped him with something else he had been thinking about. "Listen carefully as I say it again. Take in exactly what I'm saying to you. I'll address the team tomorrow. Thank you for taking on the responsibility of coming in here."

"Okay," Kim said uncertainly. She didn't understand what was wrong with him, or what he was talking about. But she had enough respect for him to leave it there for now. "Goodnight. See you in the morning."

"Night," Hank said simply. As Kim left, he knew what was on her mind. She thought he needed to talk to someone, professionally. That wasn't his style though. He didn't seek comfort in a therapist's office. He sought it in a bar.

With that in mind, he got up a few minutes later and left the office. In the bullpen, he found only Kalinda still at her desk. She was still working, probably kicking a hole in the mountain of paperwork that an officer-involved shooting required, even one that had already officially been declared good. Statements from Hank, Kevin and Dante, who had all witnessed her drop Baranov, had been enough to see to that.

"Bit late for paperwork. Go home," he suggested, approaching her desk. Jay's old desk.

"Don't feel much like going home. It's not even home, it's a pokey guest bedroom at my friend's place. Know any good bars around here? I think this first day calls for tequila."

"Can't vouch for the tequila, but I know a place where the whisky is good." Hank wasn't sure why, but without saying as much he had just agreed to go for drinks with his new team member. Part of him didn't want company. But there was a part that did. Specifically, as he stood there looking at her, that part wanted Kalinda's company. Someone closer to his age than the rest of the team, albeit still ten years younger than him. Someone who had experienced some pain in her life, meaning she might be able to relate to him.

"Then let's try there," she said, getting up. "You don't have to do join me, Hank. I'm sure you've got..."

"I could use the company," he cut in. There, he had said it. She took it in her stride, and smiled at him.

"Alright then. Give me a minute and we'll get out of here."

Fifteen minutes later, Hank and Kalinda sat at the bar in a place he frequented on a semi-regular basis. There was nothing special about the bar, but it wasn't a dive either. Kalinda didn't seem to mind it. She had insisted on ordering the first round; tequila for her and whisky for him.

"To a better day tomorrow, I guess," she said once the drinks had been delivered.

Hank raised his shot glass and drank, not passing comment on her toast. He could hardly disagree with it. Today had been a bad day.

"So what happened back there? I'm going to assume you don't usually lock up like that at the sight of someone getting shot?"

Straight to the point. Her style, he was rapidly discovering. He was free to refuse to answer of course. But he did need to talk to someone. He didn't want that person to be a therapist. That was a road he wanted to avoid going down. So, why not tell Kalinda? Well, there were multiple reasons not to, but he was going to do it anyway.

"The woman who was shot today? She looked a lot like a CI who got killed on my watch recently. Anna Avalos. We got close to each other, which I know is something I shouldn't have allowed to happen."

"Close how?" she asked, eyeing him with suspicion all of a sudden. Perhaps she was thinking he might have used his position of power to sleep with a vulnerable young woman.

"I don't know. Kind of like she was becoming another foster daughter to me or something. Can't really explain it. All I wanted to do was help her and her son. Anna had been through so much, and I wanted to help her. But I ran the undercover operation badly and the whole thing became a mess. I didn't tell Anna the truth, and then when I needed her to trust me the most, so that I could help her, she didn't. She was panicked and scared, and she shot me because she didn't know what else to do. Then Hailey shot her, and... she died," he choked out, looking down at the bar for a long moment.

Kalinda had taken in the story, which had come out in a bit of an emotional rush. Any suspicion she might briefly have had about his conduct was gone, and there was only compassion in her eyes when Hank looked up at her, sighing to try and fight off his distress.

"It sounds awful, Hank," she said softly. "Really bloody awful. I can hear and see how much it has hurt you. And today brought it all back because that girl looked like Anna?"

"Yes," Hank mumbled. He wasn't in danger of blubbering now, that fleeting moment had thankfully passed. He signalled to the bar tender for more drinks. Another stiff whisky was much needed.

"You should talk to someone," she implored him. "I know that's not what you want to hear."

He looked her in the eyes. "I am talking to someone. And this is all the talking I'm going to do."

Kalinda considered that for a moment as the bar tender served them with their next round.

"Fair enough," she decided. "But you know you're going to have to explain to the team what happened. They'll all know by now that you locked up, and they'll be questioning you. In their minds, I mean. You need to reassure them that it's not going to happen again. You need them to believe you. I need to believe you, because you could get somebody killed."

She was right, Hank knew. The team did deserve an explanation and reassurance. He would have demanded the same from any of them if they had frozen up on a crime scene. Just being able to tell someone in his own words what had happened with Anna had helped somewhat. He was still distraught and lonely though. Very lonely. Having nobody at his time of life was scary. Retirement wasn't too far off, not really. Without his job, his world would be totally empty. But he couldn't tell Kalinda that he was afraid of ending up with a lonely, pointless end to his life. He had practically only just met the woman. And in any case she had her own problems. In fact, that was a good way to deflect the conversation.

"So, Kalinda, that's my story. What's yours?"

She started work on her second tequila, then grunted a laugh. "My story? I'm a fifty year old woman. I've had the menopause. No kids, no chance of having kids, divorced and single. When I get into my feelings, I find myself thinking that what best describes me is a sad, lonely old woman."

"You are not an old woman," Hank insisted. "Fifty is not old. I'm sixty. That's old. And in any case you look a lot younger than fifty."

"Well, thank you," she said, looking at him over her glass as she finished the second tequila. "You don't look sixty either. I'd have guessed you were my age."

There was something about the way that she was looking at him, and the way he was looking at her. Suddenly they were not talking about their misery. They were flirting, he realised, and it shocked him. He had believed that kind of thing was well in the past for him, and in any case flirting with a brand new member of his team, with any member of his team, was not a good idea. He downed his whisky in a hurry and changed the subject.

"Divorced, you said. What happened there?"

"The job happened," she said, looking straight ahead, across the bar. When she was sad, she seemed to want to avoid eye contact. "You know what it's like when you make detective. Working all the hours under the sun, never getting time at home or to spend with anyone. Eventually it made my husband fall out of love with me and he left."

"You didn't fall out of love with him?"

He saw her swallow hard. "No. Not at all. But he left me and didn't want to try and work it out. He said he knew I'd never leave the job, which he was right about, so he left me. It still hurts, Hank."

"I'm sorry," was all he could say. He wasn't good at dealing with his own emotions, let alone other people's. Not in this kind of scenario anyway.

They ordered another drink. Then another. Conversation continued about their empty lives. Hank told Kalinda all about Erin, and how she had ended up leaving Intelligence and Chicago for New York. As they talked, as the alcohol started to have an effect on him, Hank found himself thinking that he couldn't deny it – Kalinda was a very attractive woman. She stirred something in him that hadn't been stirred for a very long time.

She had such gorgeous eyes, a pretty face, and he wondered what she looked like without her hair in that overly-conservative bun. It was fine for work, but he wished she would let her hair down now. Not that he could suggest it. That would be inappropriate. Then there were the knee-high leather boots. Something about them drew his attention whenever she shifted position on her stool, often sitting with one leg crossed over the other at the ankles. The truth was he had always found leather attractive. His wife had worn it fairly often, mostly through gifts that he had bought her.

Kalinda banged her glass down clumsily om the bar, harder than intended. The alcohol was working on her too. "Whoops. I think we should get an Uber. I don't want to get wrecked when there's work tomorrow. Too old for that these days."

"Stop calling yourself old," he scolded her. "We'll share a ride. But make sure it goes to your place first so I can make sure you get home okay."

She could handle herself of course, but she took the nice gesture for what it was and smiled at him. Such a simple yet endearing smile. "Okay. I'll get it booked."

Twenty minutes later, the Uber pulled up in front of the building where Kalinda's friends had an apartment.

"I'd invite you in for a nightcap, but since it's not my place, and they have a kid..."

"We can always have a nightcap at my place," Hank said. Part of him thought that wasn't a good idea, but that was easy to ignore when he was halfway to drunk. Besides, it wasn't like he was going to end up sleeping with her.

She wavered for a moment then gave him a warm smile. "I'd like that."

Hank instructed the driver to proceed to his address. When they arrived, he showed Kalinda into his house and showed her to the living room.

"What would you like for a nightcap?" he asked as she took a seat on the couch. "I think I only have whisky or beer."

"Whisky then, please. I can't drink beer."

"Ice?"

That smile again. "Yes, please. And a little water."

"Coming up."

Hank went through to his kitchen, refusing to judge her for not taking her whisky straight. She liked it, and that was enough. He fixed the drinks and returned to the living room. Upon entering, he found Kalinda not on the couch, but standing by the photos he had of his family that he had on a table. What should have been his family, if they weren't all gone.

"Sorry, hope you don't mind me looking?" Kalinda said awkwardly. She wasn't at ease in his house, not yet. The whisky would help. He handed it to her. "Thank you."

"No, I don't mind you looking. That's Erin. I miss her... a lot," he managed to say, feeling choked up. That seemed to happen lately. Another new occurrence. An unpleasant one.

"She's beautiful," Kalinda said, looking at the picture.

"And intelligent, and brave, and kind, and successful. I'm so proud of what she's become. If only I got to share it with her."

Kalinda asked about each of the pictures. Hank couldn't talk to her about his late wife. That hurt too much. But he talked to her about his son, then his grandson.

"I wanted kids, when I was younger," Kalinda said as they sat back down on the couch.

Hank noticed that her eyes were wet now. She clearly had more she wanted to say, so he kept his mouth shut and sipped his whisky as she let it all spill out.

"Managed to get pregnant twice, but I miscarried them both within weeks of finding out. We went to see doctors about it. Don't want to go into details, but I ended up being told that I'd never be able to carry a baby to term. I'd never be a mother. I've never recovered from that day, Hank, not really. It was like a dagger in my heart. I wanted to be a mom."

Tears were now rolling down her cheeks, and her voice had broken during the final sentence. Hank's heart went out to her, but what could he say? The same thing she could say to him about Justin. Nothing. Nothing would change a situation that could not be changed. Nothing would make it all okay. All he could do was try to comfort her and take some of the pain away, temporarily.

"Can I?" he asked, moving to put an arm around her but not actually touching her until she gave her consent.

"Yes," she said without pause. She cuddled up next to him as he wrapped his arm around her. In turn she put an arm around him.

Being held by someone, having someone to hold, felt so special to Hank, way more than he would ever admit to anyone. In a way, it shocked him.

"I needed this so much," Kalinda said.

Hank gave her shoulder a little squeeze. "Me too," he said quietly.

And there they sat, holding each other, helping each other with the immense pain they were carrying.

A/N: It might not have been the best idea for Hank to have Kalinda back to his house. But it might have helped them both a little with their grief.

What do you think he will tell the team in the morning when he addresses what happened at the crime scene?