#sargent trudy platt

[chicago-pd-is-weird]

Hank Voight x Fem!Reader Oneshot (Part 1)

TW: domestic violence, multiple mentions of suicide

Synopsis: Reader is being abused and feels like she has nowhere else to turn to but a dirty cop named Voight.

Part one of however many because I like this idea and want to run with it a little haha.

Maurice Owens. Gangbanger. Scumbag.

Unfortunately, you needed his help.

You walked up to him, about midnight. His bodyguards stood, showing their guns, but you weren’t scared. You’d had worse than a pistol whip or bullet hit your body. “I’m just here to talk. I don’t have a weapon.”

“Alright, and who are you, huh? Never seen you around this block before,” Maurice replied, motioning his guards to sit back down. “You come looking for something, baby? You lost?”

“I heard you’re out there on the streets. I need to get a hold of someone. Think you can help?”

“Depends on what you can give me in return, baby girl.”

You sighed softly as Maurice eyed you up and down. You didn’t think you looked that good, but some men would bang anything that breathed. “Alright, then. What’s your price for information on a cop?”

“Cop?” Maurice huffed. “I don’t know no cops.”

“Look, I’m not stupid, Maurice. Anybody who’s heard your name knows you’re in bed with some dirty cops. I’m not PD and I’m not here to report them. I want to get a hold of one. A cop who can help me.”

“What’re you trying to do? Run game on the streets?”

You shook your head, sighing again, this time louder. “Look, I just need a cop who can help get me out of a bad situation. I’ve heard the name Voight tossed around by some bangers on my block. Get me him.”

Maurice laughed. “Voight, huh? He’s not the kind of guy you find. He finds you.”

“Then tell him to find me.”

“Ambitious, aren’t you? And, what should I tell Voight, should I ever cross paths with him?”

You thought for a moment before nodding to him. “Tell him I’ll be waiting for him. 2PM tomorrow - at Butler Field.”

“Yeah? I doubt he’s going to come just for that. I mean, I wouldn’t.”

“Didn’t I say I need help? Just tell him that. If he doesn’t show, then make sure you catch the news tomorrow night. They’ll be scraping me off sidewalk somewhere in the city.”

Maurice scoffed as you walked away, but whistled to you. “Hey, how are you gonna pay for this info?”

“You only get paid if this works out for me. Otherwise, you won’t have to worry about killing me. I’ll do it myself.”

With that, you walked away, listening to Maurice and his men talk about you.

.

When you got home, you let out a breath before walking around your house and to the back steps, as quietly as possible. Slowly, you moved the knob and opened it. The creak of your back door seemed like a siren compared to the silence in your house. You let out a slow breath, opening it only as much as necessary to slip your wiry figure through it, then closing it just like how you opened it. You bit your lip and turned around, the light turning on behind you. When you turned, he was standing there, arms crossed. You looked up at him like a child who had just been caught in the cookie jar.

“Where did you go?”

“I-I just went for a walk,” you replied, your voice shaking. It was the complete opposite from the way you’d spoke to Maurice just twenty minutes earlier.

“Yeah? At midnight? Without me?”

“You… You were sleeping. I didn’t want to wake you up. I just needed some time to myself, and-“

Shit.

“Time to yourself?! Huh?!” He moved forward quickly, getting into your face and pushing you against the door. His hands gripped your shoulders to pin you against the wood, squeezing hard.

“Ah-Ah, ow! Please, Jeff! P-Please, please!”

“You bitch!” His hand raised, making you close your eyes and brace just as his hand came down on your cheek.

You cried out in pain, hot tears coming to your eyes. You were exhausted despite your adrenaline pumping. You barely ate, barely slept, and his abuse didn’t help. You had bruises from weeks ago that hadn’t healed because you were so unhealthy. “Please, Jeff! Please, stop!” You just wanted it all to be over. Voight was your last hope.

“Why did you leave tonight, huh?! Who were you going to see?!”

“Nobody! I swear, nobody!” You sobbed as his fist found your ribs, making you curl in pain and collapse on the floor.

“Tell me the truth, bitch!”

He kicked you, over and over and over again. Eventually, you blacked out, bloody and bruised.

—

When you woke again, it was mid-morning. Your body ached and your head spun. You slowly say up, wincing softly at the pain. You couldn’t be too loud, or else he would do it again. You pulled yourself up, stumbling to the bathroom to shower and change.

You peeled off your clothes, whimpering softly at every movement. Dark bruises were on your bony shoulders where his hands had dug into you the night before. Your protruding ribs, similarly, had dark bruises all over them. Not to mention all of the other cuts, bruises and scars he’d laid on you the past ten years. The paper trails were scarce, since he’d always contracted an off-the-books nurse when you got real bad. He’d threatened her to keep her quiet, and always got a different one.

As you got into the shower, you felt the water run over you. It was only lukewarm, since you needed a new hot water heater, but you weren’t going to bring it up to Jeff. You shivered as you watched the blood wash from your hair, suddenly bringing your attention to the cut on your temple where his toe had caught you just right. It wasn’t too bad, but head wounds bled a lot, you knew.

After you finished your five-minute shower, you got out and wrapped a towel around yourself. You took care of your dirty clothes right away, then went to your room to find some clean clothes. When you got dressed, you let your hair stay down, to cover the cut on your head, and you wore a long sleeve and pants despite the summer heat. You glanced at the clock - it was nearly 11:15. That meant you had an hour before he got home for lunch to check on you. Despite working a nearby construction job, he always came back to check on you, making it difficult to go anywhere or do anything without him knowing. You sighed, then decided to get lunch together for him.

.

When he arrived at home, you’d already made him lunch and cleaned the evidence from the night before. You ran the wash to get the blood out of your clothes and mopped the floor near the back door. He walked in, sitting down at the table without a word. You put the sandwich and chips in front of him, allowing him to eat while you did dishes from the night before. When he was finished, you took his plate and put a list in front of him. “I’m going shopping this afternoon. Can you write down what you’d like me to get, please?”

Despite your sweet voice, he huffed. “No, just get what you usually get.”

“Okay,” you whispered in reply, walking with the paper and pen into the kitchen to start writing down everything you were low on. “Can I use the debit card, or should I put it on my credit card?”

“Put it on your card. Not mine, bitch. I make the money. Go out and get a job if you want your own money.”

“Okay…” you mumbled again, deciding not to push it.

.

After his lunch hour was over, he got up and left without a word, allowing you to get everything together to go out. You had about thirty minutes to walk to the baseball field, which you knew would take you twenty. You decided, if you were coming back, to simply make your store trip quick.

You walked as fast as you could, your movements slowed by the pain in your body. You’d only eaten a small meal that morning, one egg and a piece of toast, not really hungry in the first place.

As you approached the baseball field, your adrenaline began to pump in a new way, one you hadn’t felt in a long time. There were people all over, seeing as there was a little league game going on. You breathed shakily, sitting up on the bleachers, away from everyone else, pulling your sleeves down over your wrists. You weren’t cold, seeing as the sun was still high in the sky, but you were shaking. The shade provided some shelter from the suns rays which made you look like a ghost because of how pale you were.

You scanned the park, paranoid he would somehow find you there. When a stranger walked up and sat near you, you nearly jumped from your seat. You looked to the man, who had sunglasses on, his hair greying. He was probably around your age, or a bit older, late 40’s. You bit your lip, looking down at the sidearm on his hip, then at the star clipped beside it. You let out a breath. “Are you Voight?” You asked quietly, your voice meek.

“I am. Who are you?”

“(Y/N),” you replied. “I need help.”

“With what?”

“Look, my husband, he-“ You choked up. Suddenly, it was hard to admit. You looked away as tears blurred your vision.

Voight let you have a minute before moving up to sit beside you. “What about him?”

It was now, or never. “He hurts me…” you mumbled, turning your head back at him as tears rolled down your cheeks. “I need help.”

“You ever make a report to the police?”

“What the hell do you think I’m doing?” You huffed, frustrated.

“Look honey, you seem nice, but you should go to the district and make a report.”

You huffed. “Fuck off. I knew this was a mistake.” You got up, wincing in pain as you stumbled off of the bleachers. “Don’t be surprised if you find my body tonight, officer. One way or another.”

You walked away, shaking your head as tears streaked down your face, letting hair fall down to hide it. You heard footsteps behind you, making you stop and whip around, eyes wide. You thought maybe someone would come to put you in your place for talking to a cop, paranoia setting in.

When Voight approached, he put his hands up. “Easy, easy. I’ll help you.”

“What made you change your mind?” You wiped your face, looking up at him.

“Look at you,” he replied softly, pushing the hair behind your ear and taking your chin softly to maneuver your head, examining the cut on your temple. “What else has he done?”

You started to sob, Voight leading you to his car to sit and talk with you for a while. You explained the last ten years to him, which took nearly an hour. When you realized the time, you looked at him. “Please, are you going to help me? Because… if not, I need to get to the store. If-If I come back without groceries, he’ll have a reason beat me again.”

“Let me get you to the store, then,” he said softly. “I can help, but you’ve gotta give me a few days. I got some other things to deal with.”

“Okay…” you mumbled. “Please… don’t abandon me.”

He gently held your chin to look you in the eyes. “I won’t. I promise.”

When your glassy eyes met his deep, brown ones, you nearly got lost for a moment. He made you feel safe and warm, like hot chocolate on a cold Chicago night. You nodded slowly, reaching over to grab his free hand. “Thank you…”

.

Hank drove you to the store, then dropped you off at home just in time. Your husband arrived about ten minutes later. You put the groceries away quickly, starting on dinner. He brought home beer and some friends, like he did every Friday night. You sighed softly, but knew at least he wouldn’t abuse you too much that night until his friends left.

-

You held out hope, for days, that one day cop cars would just show up and take care of your husband. When a week passed by, you snuck out to see Maurice again, walking up to him around eleven at night this time.

“Hey baby girl, you come to pay?”

“I need to get a hold of Voight again.”

Maurice laughed, shaking his head. “You ain’t heard? Nah, baby, he got put in jail.”

You stopped, looking over Maurice again for any sign that he was lying. “No, don’t lie to me.”

“I don’t have no reason to lie, especially when you owe me.”

You huffed, shaking your head. “What did you do? Did you report him?”

“Hell no, I didn’t. Me and Voight, we had a special relationship, baby. Mutually beneficial. Now that he’s in jail, I gotta groom another dog cop into looking the other way.”

You frowned, looking at him intently. “Where is he? Statesville?”

“Yep. Got sent away for a long time, I heard.”

You couldn’t help the tears that had welled in your eyes. Voight had promised you. Was that even still a thing? You debated going to the nearest tall building to jump from, but you just wanted out. “I need another favor.”

“Baby, you ain’t paid for the last two I just gave you.”

“I’ll pay. I’m good for it. You just gotta distract somebody for me. Make sure he can’t come home for the day while I catch the bus over to statesville.”

“Are you insane? That’s a big ask, baby. I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s (Y/N). I need you to keep my husband busy tomorrow. Jeff Greyson. Don’t let him come home for a few extra hours. He likes to drink, and he even used to shoot up when he was in high school. I’m assuming you’re drug runners. Dangle a free sample in front of his nose. I’ll pay you off after this.”

Maurice cocked an eyebrow. “What’s going on that you can’t tell him? You having an affair with Voight?”

You scoffed, looking at him intently. “My husband abuses me. I’m trying to get out. Voight promised he would help. Does he make good on promises?”

Maurice slowly nodded. “Every time.”

“Then I need to see him.”

“Fine, but my rate just doubled, baby.”

—

You finally got into Statesville and were sat at a booth with a phone on either side. Voight was brought in on the other side of the glass and sat down across from you. You picked up the phone, and so did he. “What the hell happened?”

“You knew I was a dirty cop when you met me.”

“Maurice says you’re a man of your word. Is that true, or should I go looking for a tall building for a solution?”

“You need to report this to somebody.”

“I can’t. The investigation could take weeks and if he finds out, he’ll kill me first. I’d rather go out after seeing the city skyline one last time.”

Hank sighed on the other end. “Can you make it to the 21st district?”

You frowned. “I just told you, I-“

“Trudy Platt. Remember that name. I’ll have her find you.”

“Platt… okay…”

“I make good on my promises, (Y/N). It’s just going to take a little longer.”

You sighed, looking back up into his eyes. He was genuine. “Alright…” you mumbled. “Fine… who is she?”

“Trudy Platt is a sergeant in the 21st district. I’ll have her find you and work your case, personally.”

“Okay.”

“Just hold out. Has he hurt you any more?”

“Every day, Hank. Every fucking day.”

Hank sighed a little, but nodded. “Trudy will take care of you.”

—

The next few days went by without event, your hope dwindling with every punch, hit, and cut he put on you. One night, as you sat at home, straddling his lap at his request, a knock came to the front door. You jumped at the sudden knock, looking down at him to see what he wanted to do. He pushed you off him and got up, opening the door. “Can I help you?”

A man looked at him through the door, which he had only opened enough for him to be seen. “Detective Dawson. This is Detective Willhite. Can we come in?”

“No,” Jeff growled. “Do you have a warrant?”

The two detectives looked at once another, then back to Jeff. “Look,” Dawson said. “Some neighbors have called in complaints about a girl screaming here multiple nights in the past few months.”

You furrowed your brow. If that were true, wouldn’t the cops have shown up already?

“I guess the neighbors don’t realize we can still be active even though we’re in our mid and late forties.”

Willhite scoffed. “Oh yeah? Can we talk to your wife? We need to corroborate your story.”

“Sure,” Jeff said, motioning you forward. “Here, (Y/N), tell them.”

“Actually,” Dawson said, looking at you. “Standard procedure is to separate the two of you for questioning. Ma’am, could you step outside?”

“Maybe you should talk to our lawyer, then,” Jeff said with a huff, putting a firm hand on your shoulder. “Have a nice night.”

“Let the girl speak. We can’t go anywhere until she tells us what’s going on,” Willhite replied.

You let out a shaky breath, looking at the two detectives, nodding. “Yeah, uh, it’s… it’s all good… we’re just…” You cleared your throat. “… Active.” You blinked three times rapidly, three times slower, then three more times rapidly, hoping they’d catch on to it.

Dawson and Willhite looked at one another again, then each drew their guns. “Sir, we’re going to need you to step outside with us,” Dawson said.

Jeff scoffed. “This is completely unjustified. You came to my house and forced me to talk, and now you’re going to arrest me? This is not based in law. You’re going to have a six figure lawsuit on your hands now. Both of you, individually.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dawson said as he pulled Jeff out of the house, making you yelp as his grasp pushed you into Willhite on accident.

She caught you, taking you out of the way and onto the grass. “Hey, it’s okay now. My name is Jules. That’s Antonio. Platt sent us.”

You started to cry, shaking. You were barely able to breathe because of your injuries as your body convulsed with sobs. Jules helped you lay down on the grass and breathe until the ambulance arrived. Jeff was taken away in a car, while you were taken to the hospital in an ambulance. Jules sat by your side the whole time as they checked you out. Turns out you had multiple broken ribs from a few weeks ago as well as several other ailments from the past ten years that never healed correctly. You cried until you couldn’t cry any more, slowly falling asleep as Jules held your hand, Antonio and Trudy Platt talking to one another in the hallway outside your room.

[chicago-pd-is-weird]

Then you’d be completely correct and also I would cry very much. 😭 It’s so true I didn’t even have to read your reblog to think of them immediately.

i think 'I trust you with my life but not your own' as a trope is one of the ones that can always fuck me up no matter what

[chicago-pd-is-weird]

Hank Voight x Fem!Reader Oneshot (Part 2)

TW: Passing mentions of domestic violence

Synopsis: Reader recovers, but a year later, Hank is out of jail and he takes an interest in Reader. Reader doesn’t know how to feel.

You were discharged from the hospital after a few weeks, seeing as you were in no hurry to leave. After that, you went to District 21 with Trudy, filing multiple police reports and filling out so much paperwork that your head spun afterward. Trudy then took you out to get lunch, but you didn’t eat much. She helped you get onto your feet again, letting you stay with her for a few weeks until you could find a job and an apartment.

Truthfully, the job search was hard considering you had no experience, and you had a fifteen year gap in your resume. When you got back to Trudy’s place that night, you felt defeated. You’d been desperate and it showed, not to mention your still partially nourished, bruised body. You barely ate when left to your own devices, and didn’t eat much of whatever Trudy made you. You were grateful, but used to not eating. As you kicked off your shoes and shrugged off your coat, you let out a breath of relief. Being in Trudy’s house made you feel safe, if nothing else. You nearly took care of your coat and shoes before walking in.

“Hey, how was it today?” Trudy asked from the kitchen, stirring a pot of something.

“No luck,” you replied, sitting at the island and putting your head into your hands. “I’m sorry, I really am trying, I just-“

“Hey, that’s enough of that. Don’t worry about it.”

“I feel like I’m taking advantage of you, Trudy. I’m sorry, I should’ve just stayed with him and-“

Trudy quickly turned from the stove, walking over and pulling your hands from your face with a gentle firmness. “That’s enough, (Y/N). I’d rather you be here to take advantage of me than not be living at all. Why don’t you go get a shower and clear your head? Wash it away.”

You nodded as you looked into her eyes. ‘Wash it away’ was a phrase the both of you often used to shake off the events of any given day. “Thank you…” you mumbled, then slowly pulled from her touch and moved upstairs to take a shower.

When you came back downstairs, Trudy had a soup prepared on the table for you. She’d given you just a small bowl, knowing you didn’t eat much at all. “Hey, feeling a little better?”

“Yeah,” you replied with a small nod as you sat down. “Thanks, this smells really good.”

“It’s broccoli cheddar soup with some mini sausages in it. I have some crackers here, too, so feel free to put some in if you want.” Trudy smiled softly and beside you at the table. “And, if you want more, there’s plenty left.”

“Thank you,” you repeated. “It’s so nice to have you… Voight was right to point me this way.”

“Hank knows everyone in one way or another. He was dealing with a lot the day you reached out to him. I remember him talking about how he almost didn’t show up when you asked.”

“What made him come, then?”

“Well, he thought it was some kind of trap by IAD to prove he was working with Maurice. That he was a dirty cop.” Trudy shrugged as she took a spoonful of soup and blew on it. “But, I convinced him that somebody might really be in trouble, and that’s always worth fighting for. We couldn’t risk it if your story was real. Which it was.”

You looked down at the steaming bowl of soup, wondering where you’d be if Hank hadn’t come that day. Probably dead. You looked back up at Trudy and nodded. “Thank you,” you said softly. “I owe you everything.”

“Don’t mention it.” Trudy offered a small smile, which you returned as you took a bite of the soup. “Hey, listen, there’s a spot open at the district for a civilian records keeper. It’s yours if you want it.”

You looked up. “Really…?”

“Yeah, of course. I already cleared it with the commander.”

You couldn’t help but smile a little wider. “I owe you everything, once again.”

Trudy reached across the table to hold your hand. “I only want to see you happy.”

—

10 months later

—

Finally, everything had gone through for your divorce and restraining order. You’d quickly taken to the position in records and although it was tedious work, you loved having it nevertheless. You’d gotten your own apartment close to the district and worked very hard in the meantime to pay Trudy back for every penny she spotted you while you were down. You often made her meals and brought her lunch, as well as surprised her with little things here and there when possible. Your budget was tight, but you made it work and saved up some money while paying down your credit card debt. You found out how good you really were with numbers at that point, and although you scrimped and saved, you were able to budget all of these things in and still keep money in your new bank account.

As you walked into the 21st District that morning, something seemed off. Many of the officers around had been whispering amongst themselves. You furrowed your brow as you approached the front desk, where Trudy was looking down at some paperwork. “Hey, Sergeant…” you said softly, looking up at her. “What’s going on? Did I miss something?”

She looked down at you. “You didn’t know?”

You shook your head, furrowing your brow.

“Voight’s out of prison.”

You blinked. You hadn’t visited Voight in a long time, not since just after Trudy took you in. “He’s out?”

“And he’s assigned to the Intelligence Unit as the new Sergeant in the 21st District.”

You turned around as the whispering grew silent, Voight walking in the doors behind you. “Ah, it’s good to be back in the 21st. Trudy, nice to see you.”

Trudy nodded. “You too, Hank.”

“And who is that? (Y/N)? You look much better than the last time I saw you.”

You blushed from embarrassment at being called out in front of everyone. You waved a bit and nodded. “Hey, Voight…”

“Sergeant Voight,” the commander’s voice boomed from his office. “In here, now.”

Voight smiled and walked through to the commander’s office, shutting the door. You breathed out, blinking. You weren’t sure why you’d been so tense. Voight had helped you, so he was alright in your book despite being a dirty cop. You bit your lip and looked up at Trudy once again.

Trudy glanced at you, then looked at the other officers. “Get back to work, everyone. Let’s go.” When she looked at you once more, she nodded. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I… I don’t know why I’m so tense. Maybe it’s just the others in the room.”

“Alright. Let me know if you need anything.”

You nodded and walked behind the desk and into the back rooms, starting your morning duties.

—

Weeks went by, and every time Voight came through and smiled at you, you visibly shuddered. You had no idea what was causing it, but you typically mirrored his smile and sometimes waved. It was an odd feeling, almost as if he reminded you of that time when you were under your husband’s thumb. You knew that wasn’t it, but couldn’t find any better explanation for what you had felt every time he was near you.

One day, you were working in the basement, filing some records, when someone came up behind you. You turned your head, jumping a bit when you saw a male figure, whipping your body to match your gaze. When you found it was just Voight, you let out a long breath. “Damn it, you scared me.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to. I wanted to check up on you, without anyone’s prying eyes or ears. How have you been?”

You looked him over. His hands were shoved in his pockets and his body was relaxed, looking at your face. You nodded as you met his eyes. “I’ve been alright, Sergeant.” Somehow, you were still tense around him, but that wasn’t quite it. It was a feeling you couldn’t describe. Your stomach was in knots. Your face got hot. You bit your lip. “Trudy helped me get on my feet. Thank you… for everything you did on your end. I’m sorry it was such an inopportune time.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad it worked out, (Y/N). And, call me Hank.”

You nodded. “Of course… Hank.” You crossed your arms over your chest, rubbing them. “How is intelligence? I heard you have Dawson and Willhite up there. They’re good. They helped get me out of there.”

“That’s why I chose them. My unit will be only the best, the handpicked people.” He hummed, looking around, then back at you. “In fact, I was wondering if you’d like to come work upstairs with me.”

“U-Upstairs? In Intelligence? I hardly think I’m qualified to-“

“You’d do fine. Just think about it,” he said with a small shrug. “If you want to, I’ll clear it with Trudy and the commander.” He turned around as you walked past him, back upstairs behind you. “Just give me an answer in a few days.”

“Wait,” you said softly, stopping halfway up the steps and turning to look at him. “Why me?”

He moved up so he was on the same step as you, your bodies nearly touching, making you blush deeply. “Because, (Y/N),” he whispered. “You’re smart, you’re kind, and you’re beautiful. I love seeing your face every day.” He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. “Take a few days to think about it, then find me.” With that, he moved up the stairs and back into the district.

You stood, gripping the railing, left speechless. Your stomach turned now, but not in a bad way. Your knees were weak, your breath taken away by the former dirty cop. One hand moved to touch your cheek where his lips had landed, and you were frozen in time for several moments, replaying the interaction in your mind. It wasn’t until someone opened the door and found you on the steps were you pulled back to reality, clearing your throat and pardoning yourself past them. You went to the bathroom and locked yourself in a stall, regulating your breathing as you figured out what you felt for the Sergeant.

You hadn’t been able to put a word to the feelings you’d been facing the last few weeks ever since Voight came back. You’d never felt them before, or rather, not in over ten years. Not since your former husband has wooed you the first time. You were terrified of this feeling of… love? Is that even what you’d call it? You took half an hour to think, regulating your breathing as you brought yourself back down to reality.

When you exited the bathroom, Trudy caught your gaze, motioning you over. You nodded and walked to her desk just as Voight passed by with Dawson and Willhite. You caught Vought’s eyes and he nodded with a small smile, just as he usually did. You couldn’t help but smile back. He liked your smile. It made you want to smile more.

Trudy caught this interaction, then put her hand on your shoulder. “Alright. Dinner tonight. My place. You’re going to spill it.”

You looked at Trudy, blushing heavily. “I… okay.”

.

After shift that day, Trudy drove you to her place, where she started dinner. Once she had it cooking, you sitting at the island, she turned to face you. “Alright. Spill it.”

You laughed awkwardly, having not said much this entire time. “Spill what?”

“You and Voight. Didn’t he go down into records?”

“Y-Yeah? So?” You blushed simply thinking about the interaction you’d had with the Sergeant just hours before, and the offer he’d made you.

“So… spill it. What happened that made you run into the bathroom so quickly after?”

“I, uh…” You bit your lip, not meeting her eyes as you stated at the granite countertop below you. “Uh…”

“(Y/N)? Are you alright?”

You looked up quickly. “Yes, yes, I’m alright. It’s alright. Nothing… nothing and happened. At least, I didn’t think it was bad.”

“So what did happen, then?”

“He, uh, just wanted to talk to me for a minute about how I was doing and all of that. And he offered me a spot in Intelligence.”

“Uh huh?” Trudy asked, urging for more.

“And… so I asked why me, and he said because I’m… I’m beautiful… and kind and smart and… he likes seeing my face every day…” You blushed deeply, your voice growing softer with each passing word. “And then he… he kissed my cheek…”

Trudy’s mouth dropped in shock. She had no idea Hank Voight would ever make a move like that. “He kissed your cheek??”

“Y-Yeah… is… is that bad? Should I, uhm, say something or…?”

“Well, were you okay with it?”

You nodded a little. “I think so, yeah… It caught me by surprise. I’ve been so tense around him but… I don’t think it was fear. I think I was just nervous. He’s… he’s attractive.” You shrugged. “Am I… trauma bonding to him? Because of Jeff? Should I… tell him to stop?”

“Hey, (Y/N), I won’t tell you who you can and can’t date. Hank is… he’s a good man, despite the dirty cop run he had. He was grieving. He lost his wife to cancer, what, three years ago now? I’m just glad he’s moving on and focusing on other things.”

“He… lost his wife to cancer?” You frowned. “That’s so sad… I could never replace his wife.”

Trudy hummed and nodded, turning to the stove to stir the pan. “You won’t replace Camille. Nobody can. But maybe you can help him find happiness again and get back on the right path. The only reason he ever went off the deep end was because she wasn’t there to hold him back anymore. He had to pay for her cancer treatments somehow, and he just never stopped taking the bribes.”

You frowned and looked down. “Maybe this is a bad idea… Maybe he’s not over her and he’s going to use me to grieve more…”

“Hey, Hank wouldn’t do that,” Trudy said, coming over to the island and holding one of your hands. “He’s a good guy. If you tell him to back off, he will. Maybe you should talk to him and tell him what you’re thinking. If it’s a no, then he’ll respect your choice.”

You sighed. “I just… I think I… have butterflies around him but I haven’t felt like this in over ten years. I mean, I don’t even know how to date anymore.”

Trudy laughed softly, shaking her head. “Tomorrow, why don’t you grab lunch for the two of you and just eat in his office. Very informal, and you can talk to him, alright?”

You nodded slowly, looking at Trudy. She seemed to be harboring some excitement for you, or maybe for Hank. You knew Trudy knew Hank for a long time and personally. “Why not you?”

She seemed taken aback by the question, stopping and staring at you. “What?”

“Why not you and Hank? You guys know one another. Seems like you know a lot about him, at least.”

She scoffed. “It’s my job to know a lot about everybody.” She stood and went back to the stove. “Hank and I just aren’t like that with each other. Never have been, even before he met Camille.”

“You’re saying you never had a crush on him?”

Trudy rolled her eyes and looked at you over her shoulder. “I never said that, but it wasn’t anything. When a male is kind to you in a hostile world, you tend to latch on to those things. I was young, and nothing ever came of it. We settled into a friendship role, maybe even a family role.” She hiked her shoulders and turned off the stove. “I could never see myself with him, even then. I just convinced myself I could.”

You hummed, then moved off the stool to set the table as Trudy finished putting dinner together. The two of you ate together and had some wine before you went home, lying awake in bed and contemplating what to say to Hank Voight the next day.

—

When he walked by you the next morning, you smiled, a more genuine smile than forced one. It made him look twice, seeing you smile genuinely. His lips pulled up in a smile just the same, barely watching here he was walking as he nearly ran into a beat officer. You laughed a little, both of you blushing as you shared a small moment that nobody else seemed to notice, not even Trudy, seeing as she was in the back at the time.

You thought about Hank’s offer once again. You’d be able to see him every day. But, he would be your boss. How would that even work? You hummed as you went to work, a small grin still on your face.

—

When lunch rolled around, you checked your watch, then moved upstairs and tapped Trudy’s arm softly. “Buzz me up?” You grabbed your lunch cooler from under the counter and slung it over your shoulder.

“Sure,” she replied, nodding to you.

You walked over to the cage, opening the door when Trudy buzzed you in. Then, you climbed the steps and looked around. You’d only been up to Intelligence a few times, only to bring files up. You typically never got further than Antonio’s desk before someone took them from you and sent you packing. That day, most of the Intelligence unit was gone. Only detectives Olinsky and Halstead were left, both sitting at their desks, chatting to one another. Hank was in his office, working on some paperwork.

Mustering all the confidence you had, you walked straight through the bullpen and into the doorway of Hank’s office. You knocked on the doorframe softly as he looked up, smiling at him. “Hey. Have you eaten yet?”

Hank hummed and sat up in his seat, having been leaning over before. “No, I haven’t,” he said softly, motioning you inside.

You shut the door behind you, sitting down across from him and pulling things from the cooler you’d since set down. “I figured we could talk and eat,” you replied. “Turkey or ham?”

Hank looked you over. “You didn’t have to do this, (Y/N).”

You blushed, but pulled out a chilled water bottle and set it in front of him. “Turkey or Ham?” You insisted.

Hank was silent for a moment, meeting your eyes. Your previously mustered confidence was the only thing holding you together, and it was quickly fading as Hank challenged your kindness. He didn’t mean to, it was simply his demeanor. “Ham,” he finally said.

You held out the chilled ham sandwich you’d prepared that morning, allowing him to take it as you cleared your throat, taking a moment to breathe before speaking again. “I just wanted to talk to you, ya know?”

“Okay,” Hank said, nodding and taking a bite from the sandwich. “About what?”

“About yesterday.” You took a bite of your sandwich as well to buy yourself some time. Everything you’d thought of went out the window as the butterflies set in. Hank’s presence was enough to make your head spin, let alone being in a room alone with him. “I, uh, thought about your offer a lot.”

“Mmhm?” Hank hummed as he chewed another bite, looking at you.

You blushed when you met his eyes, looking at your feet, using your free hand to wipe something off of your pants. “Yeah, I… I think… I think what happened was you offered me two things.”

Hank nodded, still looking at you. “I guess maybe I did.”

You looked up to meet his eyes. “Then you know… that those two offers conflict.”

His chocolate eyes ran their way over your figure, then back to your face as Hank nodded. “I suppose they do.”

“So you understand… I can only accept one of those offers. Not because I don’t want both, but because I can’t have both.”

“Which one, then?” Hank asked bluntly, his voice quieter as the tension became thicker between the two of you. He leaned forward in his seat again as he set down his sandwich.

You bit your lip, your chest growing tighter as you swallowed hard. “I… can’t join Intelligence.”

Hank stared at you, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “I understand,” he said softly. “I think that’s a wise choice, though maybe I’m just partial to that option.”

You blushed, nodding slowly, looking down again and picking a hair off your sleeve, then looking back up. “You… really want someone as broken as me?”

Hank let out a small laugh. “(Y/N), you’re not broken. I mean, you’re one of the strongest people I know. What you overcame and what you did to overcome it, that’s ballsy, to say the least. I mean, making Maurice Owens find you a dirty cop to help solve your issues?”

“Yeah,” you muttered, remembering you still hadn’t paid him back for that.

When your eyes moved to the floor once again, Hank noticed the troubled look on your face. “What’s the matter?”

“I forgot that I owe Maurice for a few favors. I don’t even know what he wants.” You sighed. “Shit… probably sex or money.”

Hank shook his head, getting up from his seat and walking over, then crouching in front of you, taking your chin gently in his fingers. You met his eyes again. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll pay Maurice off.”

“But… Are you still out there? Dirty?” You suddenly had second thoughts. If Hank was a dirty cop, he would take you down with him. On the other hand, you couldn’t go much lower than you’d already gone with Jeff.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said softly. “When the time comes, I’ll explain, okay?”

“I just… if we get serious, and you’re dirty, it could-“

“I would never let that happen. Do you trust me?”

You scoffed a little, a small smile pulling at your lips. “I trusted you with my life. It would be silly to stop now.”

“Then know that when I say I would never let anything happen to you because of me, I mean it. I’ll protect you.” His opposite hand was placed on your knee, his eyes looking intently into yours. “I’ll pay Maurice off on your behalf, alright?”

“You really don’t have to do that, Hank, I… I owe him a lot. He said it was doubled at one point… I-“

Hank gently shushed you, rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip as he cupped your face. “I’ve got it. Trust me.”

You nodded slowly. “Okay,” you whispered, leaning into his hand. His touches were so gentle, more so than any man you’d experienced before. For having a bad reputation, Voight didn’t seem all that bad. He was certainly better than Jeff. You understood why Trudy was close with him despite his dirty dealings.

“Okay,” he affirmed, smiling at you. You couldn’t help but smile back, and for just a moment, the world went away. Your horrible past, Voight’s horrible past, the debts you owed to Maurice, it all went away. You gazed into his chocolate brown eyes, his hands now gently holding yours, his smile wrapping you up and making you feel safer than ever. You knew you were making the right choice at that point. “Thank you, Hank.”

[maryannecrimsworth]

Headcanons

Pairing: Hailey Upton x Single Father! Former FBI profiler! OC! Kristoff "Kris" Aller

Summary: here

Author's note: these are just some ideas I gathered until I can't come up with the first chapter. I hope you like it

First Stake-out

“You know, you can ask me anything” He seemed comfortable in the passenger’s seat, his voice was serene and low. The night was perfectly still, his slow-moving chest and words being the only proof of life in the whole block. Unlike her, he felt easy, and his breathing was silent and light. His gaze was on the streets, focused but unpreoccupied. Hailey, on the other hand, froze for a second, and her breathing stopped when he suddenly spoke. “It’s easier than following me around, you know.”

She quickly turned to him, and their eyes finally met. Her widened look found his cool expression.

“Why did you do it?”

"I'm uncomfortable with this partnership" Hailey admitted with a sharp voice

"This isn't a partnership." He replied almost immediately. "I'm here for a case. Only one. Then you don't get to see me again."

Hailey sustained their shared gaze — she analyzed his features as he grew unsletted before her light blue eyes.

"I don't think you mean that. Any of it." She stated. " It's useless to ask you anything if you're going to answer with lies."

Kris snorted. "Are you serious?"

"Everything about you seems fake." She argued back "So, yes, I'm serious."

"Hmm." His eyes were burnings hers; his annoyance was clear "Why is that?"

"You have a juvenile record, but almost none reports from the police academy. Several promotions, only compliments, even Platt likes you...On paper, you're a perfect cop, but—"

"I turned it all down." His semblance softened; he shook his head slowly as if her suspicions were perfectly reasonable. "Do you wish to know why?"

For a second, Hailey saw his eyes water, and she was ready to say 'yes' — but Kris turned his face away in reflex. "Someone's here." He whispered, now analyzing the empty streets.

They were not alone.

Context

• At first, Hailey didn't like the idea of Kris becoming her new partner; Technically, he wasn't even suppose to know about the case. For some reason, however, Voight trusted Kris — yet, it didn't mean Hailey would trust him

• "C.I Bishop" that's what Ruzek called him. No long after, Hailey figured out why he had this title: during his patrol days, Kris assigned more C.Is and got confessions for many cases. Suspects would talk to him as if he was a priest in the confessional. No wonder he was selected for the first team of the Special Investigations Unit. Few years later, FBI itself selected him and took him to N.Y

• Voight and Platt treated him with respect and warmth; it was unusual to see Trudy being chatty and asking about his daughters nearly every time Kris passed by; Voight would do the same thing, and worse: many times, he would take Kris to his office for some sort of secretive conversation. Hailey could only watch them

• Adam was willing to be his partner; Torres was making up theories Kris very often agreed with; Voight trusted him completely — and it was clear that Kris wasn't excited about getting a desk for himself. But the Sargent teamed him up with Hailey, and the man occupied Jay's former table with discomfort. They both had to admit, it was awkward

Partnership

• There was something off about him, Hailey could tell. No one could possibly be so balanced, light headed and calm as Kris . No true profiler or police officer could be so easy going while watching and analyzing the most horrible scenes she has ever seen. He looked like a pshyco, staring at the crime scenes and victims with a totally blank face. Another odd thing: he didn't come up with any theories on the first days, even though this was his only job

• He looked, sounded, and behaved like a lie, a fraud. And this case was too important for him to mess everything up. Hailey felt she had no other option: she started to investigate him

• It didn't take long until she figured out: his wife suspiciously passed away four years ago; he left FBI for unknown reasons; he has the guardianship of two girls: Amber, 6, his daughter, and Tessa, 14, his niece. She could find nothing about Tessa's mother. He had brilliant ratings and few complaints. On the paper, he was one of the best police officers Hailey has ever known — who suddenly gave up everything to work at a rehab center. He was either an angel or a demon running from his past

• Another problem: he had a juvenile reccord, which required autorization to be accesed. He came to Chicago when he was 17, and got in trouble just a few days after arriving. The only thing Hailey could discover: Voight took care of his case

A bit more about the plot:

"I have a clue." He spoke out of the sudden as soon as the shift began. His eyes shone with an unsettling energy. "A theory, more precisely." He walked over to the board. "The animal-based accelerator, the abandoned factories and now companies. It's evolving, growing like a story-line." The whole unit looked at Kris with confusion. "I looked up the first arsons again. All the buildings once were public places, hospitals, secretariats, stations and so on." They asked how the companies buildings would fit into that, and he went on "They don't aim at the people, but at what the place symbols. At 3 a.m, they go to old community centers, lock whoever is in up, and set fires to it." Silence again. "Mission-oriented type of serial killers. I'm just missing their manifest." "Why you keep saying them?" The team asked. "It's a group. Probably white, young men, trying to make a statement for the whole town to see." Adam, Kim and Kevin glanced at each other, all of them confused and surprised. Voight, Torres and Upton stared straight at Kris. "I made up a list of possible next targets. They might act tomorrow." Then, without questioning, Voight said "So let's get ready."

[thegirlwhobrokeintothetardis]

A Gentle Voice (Greg Gerwitz x Reader)

Word Count: 2,106

Pairing: Greg “Mouse” Gerwitz x Reader

Summary: You got kidnapped by members of an aggressive incel group, and thought that this was how you were going to die. But a group of the Chicago PD are able to save you; now you just need to help them find the group that did this. Only one problem: You can’t talk.

Warnings: Graphic details of beatings and abuse, mentions of blood, violence against women, and swears.

A/N: So this was based off an idea by an anonymous sender asking for more mouse imagines. And since I am on a break from work (i’m okay, I just work at an elementary school and its summer vacation lol) I thought I would get some writing done :) I hope you all enjoy, and if anyone else has ideas for imagines you want me to write, send me a message!

I’m going to die.

You still remember the moment where you knew something was wrong when you were walking home from your job at the tech firm. It was late, not crazy late, but late enough where the street lights started to flicker on. The clicking of your footsteps soon stepped in sync with someone else’s, and before you could pull out your phone or your mace, a bag was thrown over your head and with a hard hit with something, you were out.

Now here you were, who knows how many days have passed, in a jail cell of a room, trying to anticipate when your kidnappers would come back for another round of smacking you around with the assorted weapons at their disposal. This group has been trying to extract some info about a set of code you had recently written to help one of the biggest banks in Chicago with their security; you assumed to rob it. You’ve also heard murmurings from outside your door about how they needed the money, for what though you didn’t know. 

While curled up in a corner, trying to prepare yourself for the inevitable; that you were not going to make it out, you were shocked by a big BANG that shook the walls that surrounded you. You could here shouting, many voices echoing around as the scuttering of footsteps getting closer and closer to where you were being kept. You tried to push yourself further into the corner, and as the door swung open your hid your head in your lap with your arms over your head for protection. 

“Hello?”

Slowly, you raised you head and squinted as a flash of light caught your eyes. In front of you was three people; two men and a woman. They had guns in their hands and bulletproof vests labeled with POLICE.

“Ma’am? Ma’am are you okay?” The taller man asked, his brown hair slicked back and his blue eyes looking at you with concern. With a shaky nod, the woman cop slowly comes over to you and kneels down.

“Are you Y/F/N Y/L/N?” Another nod, and the woman cop looks to her friends then back at you, offering her hand. “I’m Detective Lindsay, and we’re here to get you home.”

A flood of tears well up in your eyes and you reach out and grab her hand, her grip firm and comforting as she helps you up and out of your nightmare.

                                                        ---

Hours have passed, and Detectives Lindsay and Halstead are standing outside a hospital room where you were sleeping off the meds the doctors had given you. Erin and Jay watch you through the window as the doctor walked over to them, clipboard and your chart at hand. “Detectives?”

“Yes.” Erin said, straightening up. “How is she?”

“Y/N is sedated now, but looks like she might be here for a couple days. With contusions on her legs, two broken ribs and a concussion, we would want to keep an eye on her before sending her home. We also had to administer a rape kit after seeing the bruising on her legs.”

“These guys really worked her over.” Jay murmurs, looking at you again before turning back to his partner.

“When she wakes up, please give us a call. We need to ask her some questions about the people that kidnapped her.” Erin hands the doctor her card and is about to turn and walk away when the doctor’s voice makes the cops’ stop.

“That might be an issue.” Erin and Jay turn back around and walk back to the doctor, looks of confusion present on their faces. “When she got to the hospital before being sedated, Y/N stopped answering any and all questions presented to her.”

“Like she’s refusing to talk? Why would she do that?” Jay asked.

The doctor shook their head and pulled their clipboard to their chest, “The head of psych, Dr. Daniel Charles, believes that Y/N has developed Psychogenic Mutism. Basically because of the trauma Y/N has endured, her mind has shut off that part of her brain that allows her to communicate. It’s not that she is choosing to not speak; it is that she feels physically unable to.” They explained, glancing over in your direction as she progressed.

“How long will that last?”

“It could be days, weeks, or it could go on for years. This type of trauma response is very unpredictable because we are not just dealing with the health of the patient. We are dealing with their mental health and it they feel safe and secure enough that their mutism can subside.”

Erin looked over at you again and sighed, hating that not only had the people responsible hurt you and taken away your feeling of safety, they also somehow took away your voice.

                                                      --

Over the next few days, it was explained to you that an investigation was open on your kidnapping and subsequent abuse. A Dr. Charles also visited frequently about what he called your “mutism”. He ended up giving you a whiteboard and marker so you could write, but whenever he brought up your attack, it was like your brain would shut down. The first time it happened, you woke up to Dr. Charles standing over you, telling you that you had a panic attack and passed out. After that, Dr. Charles and others were very careful what to bring up around you.

Eventually, you were released from the hospital and given your own police protection detail just incase those guys tried to take you again. The Detectives that found you, mainly Detective Lindsay, would visit and say how you were, and if you had thought of anything useful to help the investigation, but it was no use. One one day, you were asked to come to 21st District to look at some pictures of possible perps, and you were dreading it. It was the first time you had left the house since being released from the hospital and you had made your apartment your safety bubble; essentially everything in the bubble was good, and everything outside was dangerous. But some righteous part of you wanted to see the people responsible for your attack put to justice, so you got into the police cruiser of one of your protection detail, and made your way to the 21st.

Inside the district, you were met with a sturdy-looking older woman behind the desk of the main floor. She looked like the one in charge, her eyes never wavering even when you walked over to her. The officers with you, you think their names were Burgess and Roman, explained who you were, and you were buzzed up to the upper level which was explained to you that was where the Intelligence Unit was. After arriving to the office space, officers Burgess and Roman were called over their walkies, the sudden noise making you jump. 

Officer Roman moved to answer the call as Burgess moved closer to you, “Sorry. It looks like we need to go. Lucky though you are in the safest place for you to be right now.” she said with a reassuring smile. “There is a civilian who works for the unit; he is their tech expert and used to work with Detective Halstead when they were Rangers. We’ll get him to come up and stay with you until the unit comes back.”

You nodded as Burgess and Roman walked down the stairs back down to the main flor of the district, leaving you alone for what feels like the first time in weeks. You took a seat at one of the desks, and fiddled with your hands as the silence around you started to press down on you. 

I’m alone...The last time I was alone I was taken...I-I don’t want to be alone...I-I-I

Suddenly the room felt like it was moving, a swaying motion that didn’t bring you any comfort. Your lungs felt like they couldn’t get enough breath as you tried to get more air into them, and slowly your brain realized that you were hyperventilating. You were so concerned with trying to breathe that you didn’t hear someone enter the space you were in or how they moved closer to you quickly. It wasn’t until there was a hand falling on your shoulder that made you jump out of your seat and look up.

In front of you was a man with combed back brown hair and striking blue eyes, wearing a spotted black-and-white button-up shirt and jeans. The look he was giving you was full of concern, but not edging on pity which was mostly what you’ve seen since your attack. It took a second to realize that his mouth was moving and words were leaving his lips.

“-ear me? Hey, can you hear me? You need to breathe, okay? Match my breathing.” He said, his tone calming and rumbling like a faraway thunderstorm. Slowly, you were able to take deeper and deeper breaths, your heart slowing down until the panic attack subsided. Tears started to drift into your vision as a wave of exhaustion encompassed you all the way to your bones. “Its okay, its always a bit overwhelming after an attack like that.”

You nodded as you wiped away your tears to try and regain some composure, but the man didn’t seem bothered by the tears. He gave you a small smile and patted your lap before getting up and heading to the side kitchen. There was noise of ceramic clanking together and the sound of water, and a couple of minutes later he came back with a cup of tea. “Tea really helps. I have a cup after I have my panic attacks and its a nice calming drink to help ground me.” He explained, handing over the cup.

You sip from the cup, the smell of flowers of some kind and the taste of some kind of sweetener warmed your chest and let a small smile appear on your face. The man smiled at your calm exterior before pulling over a chair and sitting next to you, “Officer Burgess explained they were watching over you but had to leave, I’ve been helping the unit on your case so I know you can’t speak. That’s okay though. I’m Greg, by the way. Greg Gerwitz, but everyone calls me Mouse.”

You look over with a confused look on your face, which made Mouse laugh, “Its a very long story, trust me you don’t want to hear it.” You smiled again, a little bigger than before, and you two spent the next few minutes in conversation. Well, with Mouse talking and you listening, but it was the closest to a normal conversation you’ve had in weeks. 

“-and then Jay, Detective Halstead, started running around like crazy, shucking off his shirt in the barracks looking for the spider.” Mouse said, laughing at the memory of Jay freaking out because of a spider. You were smiling and before you could even notice, your mouth was moving.

“What happened after that?”

Mouse turned to you in shock, and you stared back wide eyed as your hand came up to your mouth. “Oh my god.”

“Did...Did you just speak?” Mouse asked, his full attention now on your next move. You paused, thinking that you had both imagined that, but then went to try to speak again. 

“H-Hi.”

Mouse’s shocked expression turned into a smile, “Hi.”

Just as the two of you were in the middle of a moment, the gate leading to the bullpen downstairs clanged shut with the follow up sound of multiple footsteps coming up the stairs. Mouse and you both turned to see Detective Lindsay, Detective Halstead and a few others walking into the room. 

“Y/N, sorry for making you wait. I hope our tech expert Greg wasn’t that bad of company.” Jay said jokingly, giving Mouse a smirk. Before Mouse could open his mouth to reply, you stood up.

“N-No, he was great company.” You said as you watched Detective Lindsay and Halstead’s jaws drop at the sound of your voice. “He even helped me find my voice.”

“So you can talk now.” A voice said as an older man walked out to the front of the group. Clearly he was the Sargent Voight Mouse had mentioned to you earlier, the head of the Intelligence Unit. “Does that mean you’ll be able to help us with your case?”

You looked back to Mouse who gave you a reassuring smile, then turned back to the unit, “I’ll tell you everything.”

[chicago-pd-is-weird]

Haha, I didn’t think I knew so many shows until I started thinking about it. I hope all these count:

Chicago PD: Trudy Platt

Chicago Justice: Antonio Dawson

MacGyver: MacGyver

The A-Team: Face

Knight Rider: K.I.T.T.

Criminal Minds: Spencer Reid

Burn Notice: Fiona Glenanne

Leverage: Alex Hardison

Sherlock: Sherlock Holmes

Psych: Shawn Spencer

Law and Order SVU: Elliot Stabler

You can put together the perfect anti-crime unit: you can choose only one person from every crime show you saw, to create a believable group... who would you pick?

I'm so curious 😊

(don't think about the different time settings, let's imagine they live in the same period of time)

[sometimesbryce]

Need me a freak like Trudy

[kim-ruzek]

Iris

Summary: And it’s those memories that she has kept on replaying on repeat in her mind ever since that day, because Adam is right, because she should’ve known, that she should’ve known his heart.

And instead she accused him of cold-blooded murder.

Or; a night at karaoke at Molly's makes Kim realise just how much she loves Adam.

Season 8 au/fix-it. Adam and Kim decided to give their relationship another go after 8x5, no Makayla, but 8x10 still happened how it did, causing them to break up.

Warnings: mentions to canon miscarriage and deaths and shootings.

Word Count: 7.8k

Read on AO3

Notes: This started as a light hearted funny idea just because I wanted to do a fic about Adam singing. The I talked to Cíara and it spiraled. Title from Iris by goo goo dolls (thanks to @fighterkimburgess for suggesting this song as what Adam sings at karaoke).

Enjoy!!

“Burgess!” Kim was so, so close to being out of the door when the desk Sargent spotted her. She inwardly cursed herself for not being quick enough, turning around with a smile on her face.

“Yes, Sarge?” Her voice was sweet but she knew that Trudy wasn’t having any of it.

“You going to the karaoke at Molly’s tonight?” Trudy gave her a look that told her there was only one right answer.

“Ah...hm, I... can’t.” Still, Kim tried to give the wrong answer.

“You’re going. Your trashy television shows will be there tomorrow.” Platt told her firmly, leaving no room for protest. No matter how much she wanted to. Not for the first time, Kim cursed that Trudy and Mouch are co-owners of the bar, even if she knew that Trudy would still make her go just as firmly even if she wasn’t.

It had been one of those cases in Intelligence. Gruelling and tiring and the kind of cases that makes you second guess your faith in humanity. And fifty-one had just come off the third tough shift in a row themselves and so Herrmann had the marvellous idea of a Karaoke night, something his co owners supported.

‘Just a bit of fun’, Herrmann had pitched as he spread the word. He only had a day to plan and tell them about it, but that was okay, depending it was for fifty one and intelligence, not the greater public.

It’s a good idea, and definitely would be good to raise and rebuild morale; it had taken quite the hit in their first responders family, understandably, with everything going on. Logically, Kim knows this. She can respect and acknowledge that it’s a good idea and something that Herrmann should do for all of them, but that doesn’t stop her from really, really not wanting to go.

It’s nothing, really, about Molly’s or Herrmann, or Trudy. Nothing personal, anyway. Lately, Kim hasn’t felt much like socialising—never mind doing karaoke—and going out tonight, dressing up and having to force herself to be around everyone, it sounds like her own personal hell.

Well, not everyone, just the one person; just Adam.

As far as Kim’s concerned the worst part of work hasn’t been the case. It has nothing to do with the gang war and the children who were caught up in it, as tough as those cases always are. It has nothing to do with the spike of fentanyl in the drugs and the many lives it’s taken. It’s because of Adam.

It’s always, Kim thinks, because of Adam.

The last eight years of her life, it’s always been because of Adam. Not work being unbearable, but anything happening in her life. Her day starts and ends with Adam, it always has, even when it doesn’t.

Even in those moments in her life where Adam is so far from her thoughts. Even when she’s sharing a bed with other men. Even when she hates—no, never hate. Not for him, anyway; herself perhaps, but never him—him.

Even when the only time in the day she thinks of him is because they’re working together. Even when all those thoughts are purely professional.

It’s always Adam.

There’s something about him, from that moment he called her over in Molly’s, that was forever imprinted onto her. His very essence wrapping around her soul, becoming just as part of her as her blood is.

Her air. It’s a thought she’s had so many times before, that he’s her air. That she never breathes as clearly as she does when she’s with him, when his arms are around her. And that air never quite stops coming to her like it does when he’s gone.

It’s a thought that she wishes—wishes so hard—that she had told him that.

Told him it before... Well before that day. Before those words came out if her mouth, never to be unheard, to break what was already barely put together, the cracks of the numerous previous breaks still so clear.

Maybe then things would’ve gone differently; maybe then she wouldn’t be suffocating.

Kim knows that’s not fair. Telling Adam that he’s her air would’ve done nothing to prevent this from happening, from this becoming her life. Adam, after all, is not the reason she’s suffocating, drowning in the water of her own tears—she, herself, is.

She was the one who didn’t think. She was the one who let her own fears, worries and anxieties rule her mind, her heart and her mouth. She was the one who broken, who had marred herself, who had darkened her own soul, spirit and heart.

It was all Kim, she knows this. God knows she’s had many lonely, cold nights to realise that, to let the knowledge sink into her.

Adam is her... Well, her everything. It’s something she’s recently truly came to terms with; that she’s finally understood, more than she ever thought was possible, the old adage of you don’t know what you have until it’s gone.

Many nights Kim has laid in bed, staring up at her ceiling, realising she’d give up just about everything just to touch him again, to have him touch her.

To have him let her back in, to let her come close, to let her be in the warmth of his sun.

And it’s those same many nights that Kim has realised that she could give up everything and anything, but that there’s not enough in the world to ever make that possible. That because she was selfish, because she didn’t try to acknowledge how broken she was inside, Kim lost him.

Kim hurt him in the worst way, and there’s no undo button for life. No way to reverse and undo the damage that had been done, especially when it’s just one more scar on top of so many others.

What did you do?

Those words have gone around and around in Kim’s head since she said them, since she saw the hurt in Adam’s eyes, since she saw the video evidence and since he shut that door in her face.

Kim could dissect exactly why she said that—she has, in fact, in those lonely cold nights—but the whys, they don’t matter. All that matters is the aftermath, the impact of her words. That in the moment, she doubted who Adam is, and forever shattered their relationship.

It’s something Kim never should’ve said.

Not because it’s hurtful and untrue to him, well, not just because of that. But because it’s always been Adam, ever since eight years ago, even before she fell completely and utterly head over heels in love with him.

Kim has always known who Adam is. She’s one of the first people ever to, and she saw who he is without him even needing to try hard to show her. Because she understood him, because she saw him on a level it’s taken others years too.

Because she saw him on a level that others still haven’t.

If she tried, Kim doesn’t know if she could pick just one favourite moment in all her years of knowing Adam. There’s so much good, even when things were anything but. But those first moments of their relationship, when they were still so young and blissfully unaware about what awaited them, those never fail to put a smile on her face.

And Kim can’t say just how many times she’s replayed the first moment she just got something about Adam, instinctively, and he had clearly not expected that and just looked at her with awe and adoration.

Or how many times she replayed telling him that he can be himself around her, that she will never judge him, that she knows him.

And it’s those memories that she has kept on replaying on repeat in her mind ever since that day, because Adam is right, because she should’ve known, that she should’ve known his heart.

And instead she accused him of cold-blooded murder.

There’s been many mistakes in her life, many things that she regrets. But it’s no competition as to what she regrets the most, that in just the space of a few seconds, she destroyed Adam and her, destroyed those eight years of history and connection, with only a few words.

In Kim’s line of work, you fast learn that everything can go wrong in such a short span of time. On the nights all of them, all their first responder friends, gather around and talk and it inevitably goes to the horrible things they witness, this is something they all agree on.

That it only takes a split second to go from everything being fine to nothing ever being fine again.

Looking back now, Kim knows that she was playing with fire. That they encourage all the down-on-their-luck victims to seek help, that they even encourage the criminals to do what’s best for themselves and their peers, their family, but that Kim never applied that to herself.

She had been playing with fire for years. Kim sees the looks her unit gives her, whenever there’s a child involved in a case. Not pitying, but a look that clearly shows that they know, oh they know, that she lost a part of herself that day in the motel.

That she was broken, and that they know, even if they don’t think about it, there’s always going to be that broken part of her.

But what they don’t know is that she had been broken for years. They know that maybe she plays with fire whenever the cases are child-focused, but they don’t know just how close she is to the flames normally.

Not their fault, of course. Kim carefully constructs herself, that she hides so much of her even from herself. It’s something—perhaps wilfully—that she’s ignored herself, that she was sitting beside the flames and ignoring the smoke all around her.

The only person who saw how close she was to burning herself is the very person she continued to push away.

Adam knows her as well as she knows him, and he sees her—sees her in a way she can’t even see herself. There was a moment, years ago, a month after she was shot, and she was still so, so bothered by the ugly scar it left. Adam had gently traced it with his fingers, looking at her with love and adoration, whispering how he wishes she could see herself like he sees her.

Kim has often thought about this in the years that came after, and more and more since that day she ruined everything. At nights she finds herself wishing that she could’ve, because it may have only been seconds that destroyed them, but she had made the cracks for years.

That if she hadn’t been chiselling away at them, maybe it wouldn’t have totally shattered them. That maybe, maybe, he would’ve been open to talking it out with her.

Kim knows, understands, why he isn’t. She gets it, and doesn’t fault him for it. But maybe, maybe if they weren’t so broken before, his hurt wouldn’t be so deep. That it would be seen as just one lapse.

Because that’s what it would be, just one lapse in judgement. But the truth of it is, that isn’t the reality. It wasn’t just that one moment, wasn’t just those few seconds, it was everything that came before it.

Accusing Adam of murder would always be a devastating blow to their relationship. But Kim can’t help regretting all she did before then, because she had made the damage before those words ever passed her lips.

In that one question, that one accusation—because that’s what it was—Kim doubted who he was, his character, the very essence of who he is.

It was a betrayal. It would always be a betrayal. But she had spent years before the fact doubting him, showing that there was a part of her that she was too scared to give him. Even when she agreed to give them another go, Kim knows she still held that little bit back, and she knows he knew that.

She was going to give it him, she knows that too. This time, Kim was committed to them, to make them work. And she knew that she’d need to work on herself, to make it so.

But there’s a difference between knowing and doing.

And Kim had continued along her selfish path. That she didn’t fully understand—or, perhaps, wanted to understand—exactly what working on herself would entail. That she dragged her feet on it, thinking that tomorrow she’ll do it, all while knowing that tomorrow would never come.

They had made some big and important strides in this new try of dating they had been doing. The night after they hooked up again, and Adam had convinced her to sit down and have a conversation about them, they both agreed that they needed to do some serious work.

Talking about your issues, making rules in relationships, it’s not the most fun or sexy moments but they knew it was important. Adam had told her that he wanted everything she wanted, and Kim had told him that she was scared.

And things were good.

They weren’t perfect, not by far, but they were good.

It makes sense. After Kim lost their baby, they had grown closer. That foundation, that connection and bond, between them had been worked on and they had developed a routine. There was some sort of communication between them, and dating was just an extension of that.

But they still were so lax, more lax than they should’ve been.

Or rather, Kim was lax. Adam was too, but he was faultless, because he was only following her pacing. That he respected her fears and didn’t push her, and instead of appreciating that to work on her brokenness, she took advantage of it.

And so things were good, but still so broken.

And then Adam was ranting about his dad and the trouble he was in, and Kim let that broken, hurt part of her take over, instead of the goodness that’s still buried deep inside her from when she first fell for him and she might as well have taken a sledgehammer to their relationship.

And if she just worked on herself. If she had worked on herself before this all happened, before they even began dating again. If she hadn’t spent years holding parts of herself back, always setting them on the slow path, then maybe those words wouldn’t have severed that final straw.

It was a betrayal, a doubt. But it was a doubt upon a doubt upon a doubt.

Adam’s words have replayed back in her mind every day since. I thought you’d know my heart. And he’s right, she should’ve.

And that’s why it was such a betrayal, why it did so much damage. Because Kim has spent years pushing Adam away, and he had kept trying, never letting the hurt sink too deeply, because he had that belief that even as she pushed and doubted him, that she knew him, knew his heart.

And in those few seconds, Kim stole that belief away from him.

It doesn’t matter that she does know his heart. It doesn’t matter that she loves him. It doesn’t matter that she’d do anything to fix them, that she’d give up her arm just to have him smile at her one, last time.

The damage has been done, that her wish all these years, her pushing him away; it finally worked. And it doesn’t matter that she regrets it, that she’d undo it, because this is life.

Kim played with fire and she got burnt.

She has accepted this. Kim is in pain, such incredible pain, and she misses him with all she has. But she’s accepted that this is her fault, that she and only she caused this and she must accept the consequences of her actions, no matter of the how’s and why’s she did it.

There’s a large, masochistic part of her that tells her that she deserves to feel this pain, and she’s not going to argue against that, but pain is pain.

Seeing Adam every day at work is agony. It doesn’t matter that it’s all her fault, it hurts being so close to him and yet so far. It hurts hearing him talk to her so cordially, and only when he needs to. It hurts when she sees him laugh at something funny Kevin or Jay says, knowing she’ll never make him laugh again.

It hurts that she forces herself to look away when he does so, or when he smiles, because she doesn’t feel like she’s entitled to see that side of him after everything she did. It hurts that she has to act as if she’s not dying inside and that she can’t even help soothe his own hurt.

Kim powers through, it’s work. It’s his work. It’s her work. It’s what’s best for them, the unit, the city. But by gods, does it hurt.

And at the end of the day, all Kim wants to do is go home and curl up in her bed and try not to think about how it no longer smells like Adam. She doesn’t want to go out. She doesn’t want to see anyone. She doesn’t want to do anything. She doesn’t want to keep being someone, that if people are seeing her, then she’s existing and if she’s existing, she’s hurting.

The pain, the agony, in her heart; she feels as if she’s dying. She feels numb and full of pain at the same time, and she’s full of hatred for herself and self pity. And she doesn’t want to see anyone, especially people who know her business, who knows about Adam and her, who will be trying to understand how she is—not knowing that no one can, that no one knows the intricacies of Adam and her, that no one can understand that pain.

Well, no one but Adam, and that’s the whole problem within itself. That the one person she wants to understand, who does understand, wants nothing to do with her.

And it might be selfish of her, but Kim doesn’t want to see him having fun. She’s not naive enough to think that he’s not also hurting, because of course he is, because she knows him, but she broke them and he’s trying to get over her.

There’s a part of her, probably still her inner masochist, that’s happy that Adam can still have fun despite the pain. And of course, that’s the best scenario she could want for him. But that doesn’t mean Kim wants to see it.

That she wants to witness it. Be a part of it.

Especially all while trying to pretend that she’s not dying inside.

Even on a normal night, even if Adam wasn’t going to be there, Kim would not want to go out. She hasn’t gone out since he shut the door in her face—even cancelling on her monthly girls night with Sylvie and Kelly. But a karaoke night, at Molly’s, with their mutual friends all around them—that sounds more like torture then fun.

But Trudy is Trudy.

It’s not a lack of understanding that’s why Trudy wants her to go out, Kim knows that. It’s the opposite. Trudy knows her so incredibly well, and she knows that Kim won’t ever go out if she doesn’t start trying.

It doesn’t make it easier or makes Kim want to go any more. And god, she tried her hardest to avoid the desk Sargent, knowing that if she didn’t run into her then she wouldn’t have to go. But Trudy is the closest thing Kim has to a parent, and she trusts her implicitly, and not doing what Trudy—in her own way—is advising her to do is a thought so far from her mind.

So she resigns herself to an evening where she’ll wish she’s anywhere but there, all while waiting for the time it gets less painful to be around—(Adam)—everyone.

It doesn’t take long for Kim to get ready. Just a quick shower—a rinse over; a quick thing to wash away the day and before she could remember what it felt like to have Adam standing behind her, sharing the shower, running his hands with a familiar ease over her body, calling it ‘helping’.

Or that was the aim, at least. But there’s no short enough time in the world for Kim to never remember that; the memories flooding back as soon as the water is turned on.

The shower is probably the longest part of her getting ready, the getting dressed easy and done quickly. Just some jeans and a nice shirt and she is done. If this is a night out she actually wanted to go out on, she’d be making good time.

But she doesn’t want to, so even though she’s ready with time to spare, Kim drags her feet, doing this and that in her apartment before leaving—anything to prolong the time until she has to be in Molly’s, around everyone (Adam).

The only thing that kicks her into action is the realisation that if she’s late, all eyes will be on her when she enters and that would just make everything that much worse.

Molly’s is pretty full when she arrives, but there’s still a few missing faces and Kim feels so relieved that she managed to arrive at an okay time. She hesitates slightly when she enters, wondering where to go, where to sit, and she feels almost as if she’s back in high school, her nerves piling up just as high as back then.

“Kim!” Sylvie is all smiles, living up to her personality of being sunshine personified. The blonde paramedic is bouncing up to her, immediately grabbing her hand and dragging her over to where she was sitting.

It’s at a table with Stella, Kelly and Matt. They’re all her friends, they’re not strangers, but the relief Kim feels at being at their table might’ve made one think that they were. It’s not like they’re not friendly, in some ways they’re very close, but Kim feels less pressured with them, less like they’re trying to see through her.

Not that her unit would, of course not. But with how she’s feeling, it’s different being around them opposed to her firefighter friends.

And it’s not like that she wouldn’t sit with them on a usual day, she would. Although normally, Kim would at least go greet her unit and her other med and fifty one friends, maybe just giving them waves at the minimum. But now, Kim sits down and practically tries to blend into the seat, not wanting to attract any attention.

Bless Sylvie, knowing that Kim might not be the most comfortable, allowed Kim to sit closest to the wall and is calling to Herrmann with her usual drink order, instead of Kim having to go up to the bar.

Kelly immediately brings her into a small, silly disagreement him and Matt are having, Stella quickly encouraging her to laugh and playfully tease ‘the boys' with her. Kim doesn’t know if they’re doing it because they can sense how uncomfortable she is feeling, but she appreciates it nevertheless and thinks that if the evening can just be like this, Kim in a corner with people who aren’t making her feel on display, maybe it’ll be alright.

The evening progresses.

Kim can’t say that she’s exactly pleased or happy she came out. She spends a lot of the time wishing for her comfy pjs and her duvet and her trashy shows that she can just get lost in. But it’s not as awful as she thought, in her little corner, the four of them always flocking her.

At times, she’s even having fun. There’s when Trudy gets up to do karaoke, which is always a hoot. There’s when Trudy and Mouch do a duet, the whole pub in laughter at the funny but cuteness of it. And there’s the joking her table does, the teasing of Sylvie when the boys go and get more drinks and Kim and Stella teases Sylvie over Matt and the laughing at Matt and Kelly behaving like teenage brothers.

Kim laughs, sometimes, and sometimes she forgets that Adam is in the bar as well. It doesn’t last, inevitably she looks around and catches sight of Adam, sat beside Kevin and everything turns to dirt instantly.

Her heart twists and she feels as if she’s being stabbed and then her laughter fades and she wonders how she ever could, when the love of her life is not far from her and yet he—rightfully—hates her.

Sylvie seems to notice every time, however, and tries her best to bring her back to her laughter, trying to help her forget about Adam being so close. It’s those times that Kim is truly grateful for having a friend like Sylvie—and for Kelly, him dragging Kim’s attention away from Adam when Sylvie’s busy with the karaoke.

“Come on stage with me,” Sylvie encourages her on one of the happy moments, when Adam is as far from her mind as he can be amidst her broken heart. “We’ll do we're never ever getting back together!”

Karaoke is one of Kim’s favourite things to do with Sylvie, the two getting drunk and singing all kinds of love songs, laughing while they do so. And since their friendship started, they have a tradition that whenever the one—or booth—has a heartbreak or is just annoyed at men, they sing it together. It doesn’t even have to be at a pub’s karaoke night, sometimes just being in the comfort of their own homes.

It’s some of Kim’s warmest memories, but tonight is just not the night for it. This is Adam, Adam who’s right there. Adam who is only no longer hers because of her, and it wouldn’t feel right. And then there’s that Kim doesn’t want to get up in front of everyone; not when she’s trying so hard to be a chameleon.

“I’ll go with you,” Matt offers after Kim gently turns Sylvie down, the other woman pouting slightly, despite the understanding in her eyes. Kim guesses she should be grateful for both Sylvie’s understanding and Matt’s offer—and she is—but she still catches Stella’s eye, the two women grinning knowingly at Sylvie.

The night is well in swing, and Kim notes that she could probably leave now, and it would’ve filled her obligation to Trudy. But she also notes that she’s a little reluctant too, enjoying being able to be semi distracted from her despair over Adam.

Progress, Kim thinks. But not long after she thinks that, Adam is walking to the karaoke and Kim knows that the chance that she can ignore his presence is now slim to none.

His hair is messy, strands hanging over his face slightly, and it reminds her of the night he shut the door in her face and it aches her heart. Aches, hurts, it because all she can think about is that night and aches it because all she can think is about the times it’s been like that because they’ve had sex, because she mussed it up, because he didn’t have time to style it.

Adam chooses to sing Iris by the goo goo dolls, but it’s no surprise, not really. Kevin and Kim have joked many times that Adam has only one karaoke speciality, because he always—at one point in the evening—will always sing it.

It’s not just his one speciality, of course. One of the most surprising things Kim learnt about Adam when they first started dating is about how musically talented he is. That he doesn’t just have a good voice when he’s playfully doing harmonics at work, but that he can—and does—sing.

And it’s something Kim has always loved, always loving it whenever he’d sing—especially when he’d get out his guitar and play for her.

But it’s one of his favourite songs to sing, and he has the vocal cords for it.

Really, Kim should’ve predicted that this would happen. But her mind had decided to be in denial, maybe hoping that Adam doesn’t want everyone’s eyes on him like she doesn’t want, but that’s apparently not the case and she’s wishing she just left, not wanting to hear Adam sing.

Not wanting the memories it will stir up. Not wanting to be reminded of just how badly she fucked up. Not wanting to have her heart break all over again when it still hasn’t recovered.

Kim tries to focus on the joke Kelly is saying, but her eyes can’t settle, her ears can’t hear. She can’t hear anything but Adam’s voice—his frankly beautiful—beginning to start the song, can’t concentrate on anything but the lyrical words that are falling out his mouth.

Memories of when they were happy and they were at karaoke comes flooding back to her. It’s not even memories of them being together—they may have spent the last eight years barely going ten months without sleeping together, but they’ve been not-a-couple longer than they ever were, in total. Just them drinking and laughing and just having fun. When things were easier, simpler, when he could stand to be around her, before she fucked everything up.

Memories of them at work, on a stakeout or just in the bullpen, and Adam is bored and is just humming dance around in her mind as well. Of when the bullpen wasn’t filled with a tense unease, where jokes and laughter was happily exchanged, where they felt like friends, like a family.

And the memories of them being together, of their quiet intimate evenings alone. Of them cooking together, watching random stuff on the telly or just cuddling and just being together and Adam just picking up a tune, singing odd lyrics.

Singing love ballads to her, even when they weren’t together, yet was in everything but title. Singing to her and playfully spinning her around, just for a second, just for a random second, but a second of showing her that he loves her, of treating her as if she’s his life, his bride to spin and to make smile and laugh and feel oh so loved.

Of humming this song under his breath when he’s doing something menial, like the dishes or laundry and catching her eye and just belting—but so beautifully and in tune—a line to her, grinning that grin of his as he does so, before going back to what he was doing, back to his humming.

Of the memory the morning after she told Voight that she was pregnant, and Adam had stayed over, them discussing what this would look like. Of Adam looking as if a load had been taken off him, and of how he had laid his hand over her flat stomach, singing softly—softly to her and the baby.

Of how he only got to do that a handful of times but how he deserved to have been able to do it more. Of how he deserved to be able to hold their baby in his arms and to sing to them, to see them hear his voice, know his voice, to smile and be soothed by his voice.

That oh so familiar pain, that familiar ache, in Kim’s heart returns and she grips her beer bottle that much harder, as if that would keep the pain at bay. It’s always painful thinking about what could have beens, especially about their baby—especially when it’s about Adam and their baby. There’s still a part of Kim that blames herself for what happens, and she never feels like she deserves to be sad about what she’s missed out on, but Adam... Adam was as faultless in that as much as he was in the end of their relationship, and it hurts her to think about all she made him miss out on.

And it’s even more painful knowing that she won’t be able to soothe that ache, that pain, in Adam’s arms, the only place she’s closest to her lost baby; in the arms of their father. Painful despite it being selfish of her for even wanting to.

Maybe it wouldn’t be as painful if it wasn’t this song. Not because of the memories, not because of all the times Kev and her have teased him over it—well, not just because. But because the words hit too close to home, hits close to her heart, the ache it leaves ricocheting through her body.

Kim isn’t one to apply lyrics to her own life, not really, not since her teenage years. Sylvie loves it, loves putting on music which not only speaks to her mood but what she’s directly thinking and despite the two having many girls’ nights giggling to various music, Kim doesn’t make the habit of picking songs that reflects her own mind.

She could spend time dissecting why-- that it makes her feel too exposed, because her work makes her want to always appear tough, that she can’t hide from how she feels if she’s thinking about it—but it doesn’t matter, all that matters is how, now, she feels.

How, now, she can’t ignore the words Adam is singing.

It’s just his song that he sings. Nothing more, nothing less. There’s nothing to take from it, nothing that should be making Kim feel this way. It’s not like it’s a reflection on how he feels, a purposeful choice, it’s just Adam with a few beers in him, singing the song he always sings.

But the words hit her deep, and all she can think about how they apply to her, to him, to them. That all she can think about is how it highlights what went wrong, that she doubted his heart then, after years of doubting his heart.

Adam sings the song well, delivering the notes perfectly even in his tipsy—drunk?—state, hitting the emotional lows and highs at all the right times. It’s just him performing, but maybe it’s the alcohol coursing through Kim’s veins, but it hits her, feeling like it’s him, not just a performance, sounding so raw and real.

It grabs at her heart, twisting it so painfully in such a deep, aching way.

All Kim wants to do is hold him, is to be with him. To cover his face in kisses, to hold him close, to tell him that he’s hers and she’s his and that’s how it’ll be for eternity. That she loves him, that she knows him, that her soul is his, entwined so tightly and closely around each other it’s impossible to tell who’s is who that it’s essentially just one.

And it hits her; she loves him.

Kim knows this, of course. And if she didn’t, the pain she has been feeling over these weeks without him would be the tell. That she feels empty, like a part of her is missing because Adam is not beside her is because she loves him; that her love burns brighter and more fiercely than an exploding sun.

But this evening, she only embarked upon this because Trudy wanted her to see that she can put herself together again. That things will get easier, that she can adjust to life without part of herself. And she had thought so, had saw it as a possibility as she laughed at her table’s jokes, as she got lost in those moments without thinking about Adam close by.

Now Kim can see—can feels—that’s nothing but a pipedream. That she loves Adam so, so much and things will never get easier to be without him. That this pain is hers and hers forever. That her life will only ever be made up of small moments where she’s without pain but that she’ll never be free.

Adam is where her story begins, where her life is. And she’ll never get him again, because she was selfish and she pushed him away and doubted him in the most awful way. Kim has accepted this, and now she accepts that her life will never get easier.

It doesn’t make it any easier to feel, to experience.

She can’t stay here, at Molly’s. She just can’t. It might be Kim’s fault why everything fell apart but she’s only human, and the ache in her heart—the ache of pain for hurting him and the ache of desire of wanting him—getting too much.

Kim puts down some money next to her beer, and she’s scooting past Sylvie, thankful that the paramedic had stood up only a few minutes before. Molly’s is crowded, and so she can high-tail it out of there without much attention and for that she is glad.

Sylvie calls after her, however, obviously concerned at her friend leaving so suddenly and Kim shouldn’t turn back to look at her, but she does, only a glance. But she miscalculates and she accidentally locks eyes with Adam and, god, it just makes the ache in her hurt that much more and she knows that she needs to go, go, go.

The cool night air hits her but it does nothing for her pounding inside her heart, does nothing to help her no longer feel like she’s on the edge of a cliff and she’s about to fall. Kim regrets deciding to drink, that she didn’t drive herself here so that she can’t just jump in a car and get as far away from here as possible.

Instead she paces the pavement, her fingers quickly working her phone to get a taxi. There’s the slight hum from the music inside which permeates through the night air, and it just makes it harder to forget the sight of Adam, looking so lovable and fuckable, and how she’s no longer allowed to think such things.

“Kim, what’s up?” Sylvie has followed her, looking concerned.

“It’s just,” Kim waves her hands in vague gesture at Molly’s. “Too much. I need to go home, I just can’t.”

“I understand. I can go with you, if you need some company? But Kim—you work with Adam. You need to get used to being around him in informal settings as hard as that is.” Sylvie reminds her gently.

“Maybe I’ll transfer,” It’s meant as a joke, but her tone is flat, and it hits wrong. Kim isn’t being serious, but there’s that little bit of truth, that it would be easier, and it rings through her words.

“Kim,” Sylvie gives her an empathetic look. “Just—talk to him.”

“What, like how you’re talking to Matt? Anything but how you feel?” Kim can’t help interrupt her, her tone clipped. Her friend shoots her an unamused look.

“That’s different. Matt and I haven’t dated, we don’t have half the history you and Adam do. And I’m okay working with him, but if you’re even thinking about that, even in a joking way, just talk to him. I know he’s hurting and you are, but you two belong together, don’t let your pride get in the way of that.” Rationally, Kim knows Sylvie makes sense and that she’s just looking out for her, but any sense of rationality is being blocked by the throbbing ache in her heart.

“It’s not pride. He hates me. And with good reason. There’s nothing I can say that can fix that and just—just leave it okay?” She snaps.

“Okay. Do you want me to go home with you?” Ever the angel, Sylvie backs down and Kim wishes that she was less in pain so she could appreciate it.

“I’m fine.” Her voice is calm, cold, final. Sylvie sighs, giving her one more look, before she heads back inside the bar. Kim’s taxi arrives shortly after.

It’s not even two hours later that Kim’s in a taxi again, bouncing her leg as the cabbie drives, tapping her foot out of nerves and impatience.

Kim wonders what the taxi driver will be thinking about her. There’s the smell of alcohol on her breath, and she can barely sit still in the seat, moving around nervously. She hadn’t looked at her hair before she left her apartment—again—but depending she just lay down on a sofa and half screamed moaned into her pillow, Kim would be surprised if it wasn’t at least slightly unruly, mussed a bit.

In truth of it all, the taxi driver probably hasn’t given two thoughts towards her since she got in. She’s just going to be yet another customer, just one of many he’ll have this night and the nights to come. And in Chicago, he’s probably seen all walks of life, people who look more like car crashes and disaster than her slightly un-put together, anxious self.

But focusing on thinking about this helps distract her mind from where she’s going—to Adam’s—and this borderline crazy idea to do so.

Adam has made it clear that he doesn’t want to hear from her. That she has cut him deep, and that she ruined whatever they were building together. He doesn’t want to hear her excuses, no matter how reasonable it seemed to her at the time.

But Kim’s not coming with excuses.

There’s not the aim to fix this, to get back together. Well, there’s not not that. Kim doesn’t really know what it is, what she wants from it, not really. She would love, of course, if Adam could see them trying to rebuild, but she only wants that if he truly can. If he can do it without compromising any part of himself, Kim has asked for pieces of him far too much to ever let him give her more.

It’s just... Lying in her apartment, alone, the dark—Kim hadn’t bothered to turn on her lights, because what’s the point—all Kim wanted was Adam.

Kim’s not coming with excuses or half apologies or propositions. She just can’t stay away from him, she just needs...

Well, Kim doesn’t know what she needs. Her mind is telling her that she needs him to know something, or needs to see her, but isn’t telling her what or why. Kim doesn’t even think she actually knows, that she’s just driven by this need.

It’s not a selfish need—not anymore selfish than any other action, that is. It’s just this inexplicable need. It’s, Kim thinks, possibly the most selfless need because it comes with no expectations or reasons, no outcomes or purposes.

And yet it’s the most selfish thing Kim has ever done. Not selfish in a bad way, nor even in a good way. But just in a selfish way, or maybe... Maybe if you can be selfless, maybe this is self-full.

Because it’s selfish in the way that it’s the first thing she’s ever done for herself just because. Everything else she hems and haws over and considers so many factors, where this is just done because she needs Adam, and because she knows, knows, Adam will be missing her.

He hates her, yes. He wants nothing to do with her and has been so hurt. But their love... Their love is like nothing else, fierce and strong, deep and true. He misses her when she’s in his arms, as she does too. Even with what she said, even with him wanting nothing to do with her, he’ll be missing her.

Kim’s not naive enough to convince herself otherwise anymore.

Kim’s knocks on Adam’s door goes unanswered and it’s only then that she realises that Adam might not even be home yet, that she didn’t leave Molly’s too long ago, that those nights can go on for quite a while and there’s no reason why Adam would be home.

There’s a feeling of defeat hanging heavy in her heart but she just leans against the wall beside his door, refusing to leave. Even if she has to wait hours, even if he just ignores her, Kim is determined to at least lay her eyes on Adam one more time tonight.

Kim isn’t waiting long. At least, she doesn’t think that much time has past. Adam has appeared, walking down his corridor, a look of surprise on his face at her being here. There’s a part of her mind, far at the back, that remembers that night she told Voight about the baby, and how this is like the opposite of then.

“Kim.” Adam stops a few feet away from her. The surprise is clearly displayed on his face, and in his voice. She turns so she’s facing him dead on, surprisingly confident.

“I came here to talk.” She tells him, impressed at how her voice doesn’t waver. He lifts up his eyebrows.

“About what?” If things were good, Kim would’ve playfully hit his arm and teased him, pointing out the elephant between them, about the day she ruined it all. But things aren’t good, so she doesn’t, but still, she can’t help but bring a bit of lightness to the heavy tenseness hovering in the air between them.

“Everything?” She smiles slightly, hoping he gets the reference. The corners of his lips twitch upwards and Kim thinks that means he did.

Adam moves closer and her heart beats way too fast. He’s got his key in his hand, and Kim realises he’s only stepping so close to her so that he can unlock his door, and she’s trying not to be overwhelmed by him being so, so close to her. Trying not to focus on how she can smell him and how easy it would be to touch him, to sink into his arms, to grab him and beg him to hold her and never let her go.

Her mind is going haywire, but she tries to calm her breathing, her heart, trying not to outwardly show how much she wants him to let her in, to give her another chance. Tries to remind herself that he might just shut his door in her face again, that just because he hasn’t told her to fuck off now doesn’t mean he still won’t.

But then Adam, pushing open his door, turns slightly towards her, a ghost of a smile on his face.

“Why don’t you come in?” He offers, indicating for her to enter first. Kim smiles at him, it’s a wider smile than the faint one he gave her, but that’s okay, so much has happened. But Kim accepts the olive branch for what it is, and enters his home.

Everything won’t be sorted over night, but it’s a start. And the important thing is that Kim knows more than ever who Adam is, knows his heart. And that she knows who she is, knows her own heart and she knows that she is Adam’s, even if he no longer wants to be hers.

[chicago-pd-is-weird]

I fully headcannon that the first battle of the badges happened when Hank, Trudy, and Al were on the beat.

Hank fought in it.

He fought Wallace Boden.

Hank kicked his ass, but it was a good fight.

That’s why later on 51 and 21 fight it out in the ring.

I love this idea.

[chicago-pd-is-weird]

I think, realistically, it’ll be Kevin (fan service).

Adam has worked in intelligence longer but has been on the force less and although he deserves it a lot more (taking charge when Voight and Hailey weren’t there in S11 - Kevin and Kim didn’t do that), Kevin has most likely been a police officer longer than him, so it makes sense on that front, especially if they’re playing into “it’s hard and it takes years to become a detective” like I read in an article somewhere in the void.

I doubt they’re going to give it to Kim because she’s felt like such a side character and has nothing going for her except being Adam’s wife and Makayla’s mom. Like she’s part of the unit but has no real story anymore. She had the PTSD in S10 but I don’t remember her having a specific storyline in S11. She was just there. So I doubt it’ll go to her since she’s not getting any love there and probably still won’t. The only thing I hope she does is take Trudy’s place if anything ever happens to her. Kim deserves to run the front desk and I will die on that hill (along with Adam running intelligence when Voight eventually goes).

[shelby-love]

JAY HALSTEAD

Parenting Struggles

Requested: yes

Prompts: none

Warnings: mentions of underage drinking

Authors note: I don't know if marihuana is legal or illegal in Illinois. If it isn't illegal then for the stake of this imagine it is. 💕

~

"I swear to god Trudy if you don't let me upstairs to see my son I will hunt y-" Your raging voice dripped in motherly venom was interrupted by the sound of footsteps coming from the place you so eagerly want to visit.

Jay Halstead - your high school sweetheart and now husband joins you by the front desk. His eyebrows are furrowed in worry and you doubt your eyes when you spot a few grey strands of hair in his soft and dark hair.

And then you remember the reason as to why your husband is like that.

"Where. Is. He." You ask him through gritted teeth.

When he called you half an hour ago you did not expect to hear him say what he did. His news made you bolt out of your office and straight to your car. Then you arrived at the District in lightning speed, low bun out of place for the first time and eyes like the deepest parts of hell. Completely on fire.

"Before I leave you in a room with our son I need you to know that Y/S/N won't do it again." He rambled quickly and when the fire in your eyes didn't leave he let out a sigh in pure desperation. "Jesus Y/N... Calm down."

You narrow your eyes at him and lower your voice enough for others not to hear you but just enough to show Jay just how angry you are.

"I won't calm down Jay! You called me half an hour ago to tell me that you arrested our 16 year old son for underage drinking...and marihuana possession?!"

The moment that sinful word leaves your mouth your husband clamps his hand over your mouth. He makes a bludge with his hand just enough so you can't bite his fingers in attempt to get his hand off.

"Ss it ss seris!!" Your voice comes out muffled but your eyes still scream fire.

"Yes it's serious Y/N. Of course it is!" He urgently tells you and removes his hand. "Thanks Sargent Platt for letting me know my wife is here."

"Yeah Trudy... Thanks a lot!" You grab your husband's hand and he leads you upstairs.

"I feel like I've birthed a serial killer. Why is he in the interrogation room?" You ask Jay. You expected your son to sit at his dad's desk with a chocolate bar to eat. You were very wrong about that.

"I figured we need privacy." He replies simply.

Your surge of protectivness and anger slips through and you nod. "Good thinking honey."

***

"Are you insane??" You barge in the small plain room. "What were you thinking?!"

Your teen son stares at his father with pleading eyes. He adopted the puppy dog eyes from you. It used to be very cute and amusing when he was a toddler. Now you curse at the fact he inherited them from you.

"Dad..."

"No Y/S/N. Don't you dare look at your father right now. I'm talking to you!"

"Why is that such a big deal mom? I didn't even try it. I told Rick-"

"Y/S/N do you even have the slightest idea of what could've happened to you?" You shudder at the thought of something bad happening to him.

You and Jay did everything in your power to give him a good life. You gave up so much to raise him in a good neighbourhood, to send him to a good school. To give him a life in which he wouldn't even be thinking about these things.

You had him a month after you turned 18. You gave up everything to give him a good life. Your love for him was bigger than your love for yourself.

And so to be here after he did the things you desperately tried to shield him from - it broke you and made you think you failed as a parent.

Jay noticed your sudden change and placed his hand on your shoulder in a matter that looked simple to other but was so deep for you. Your husband knew your every thought.

"Mom I'm sorry..." Your son broke the long silence. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably.

"No I'm sorry." You say and wipe a few fallen tears away. You haven't cried in a long while. "I'm sorry you have to chase after your delinquent friends in order to have fun. But Y/S/N this is serious. You saw what your dad goes through at work. These things are dangerous."

"Your mom and I work to give you the best life possible Y/S/N. It's what we vowed to do the moment your mom found out she was pregnant." Jay says. There isn't an ounce of anger in his eyes. Disappointment. Yes. "We were teenagers forced to grow up and we wouldn't change it for the world because we got you in return.

We want you to have fun and live your life like a kid your age does. But this isn't it. You're 16! We don't want you to forcefully grow up like we had to no matter the consequences. These things will end you before you even get to blink son."

You reach for your sons hands across the table. "Is the school bad? Do they make you do things you don't want to do? Y/S/N talk to us."

You feel him squeeze your hands as he lowers his eyes to his lap. He's embarrassed. You know he feels bad about what he did. You know that because your son is a good kid.

"It won't happen again. It's just... School ended early today and you two weren't home so Rick asked me to hang out with them for a while." He starts to explain and you almost hear his voice break at the end of each sentence. "I didn't want to do it but I guess I just wanted to fit in."

That's what you were afraid of.

"D-dad I'm sorry if I embarrassed you today..."

Jay's hand immediately left your shoulder as he went to his son. You shakily released his hands and let him embrace his father. Once the two of them let go of each other you allowed yourself to dip inbetween and shower your son with hugs and kisses.

"Mom... Stop."

You cupped his jaw in your hands and shoot him a stern look, ignoring your motherly effusion of love that happened 10 seconds ago. "I'm still very angry at you mister and don't think that your dad and I will let this go without consequences. You. Are. Grounded."

For the first time your son experienced genuine fear. "But dad said I won't be grounded."

When your eyes met Jay's you gave him your coldest look. Unlike Jay, whose cold look could freeze the Pacific ocean you found yours to be good enough to freeze a small pond.

"Your dad just wanted to tell you that he won't arrest you..." You turned back to look at your son and looped your arm over your sons shoulder. "You're lucky your dad's in Intelligence. Let's go boys."

Jay followed behind you two as you walked out of the room and into the comfort of the units office. Adam Ruzek put his hand on his heart dramatically once his eyes landed on the three of you. "Thank Jesus the kid is alive."

"But I'm grounded." Your son told him.

"Trust me Y/S/N. When I saw your mom walk through those doors I prayed to god that you come out of there grounded." Adam told him and it surprised you to see how serious he is.

At that moment Kevin chose to pipe into the conversation. "Y/S/N if you ever need a quick save just call me. You don't need to call your da-"

"O-kay. We better get going. You," Jay shared glances at Kevin. "Are dead when I come back."

Your eyes started to see red again, "Yeah honey. You handle him so I don't have to come back with your baseball bat."

MASTERLIST

[iamwhoami]

You and Me (Chicago PD)

Chicago PD

   Y/N has always liked Antonio Dawson but he was married. However, when he gets a divorce, Y/N didn’t think that he would go to her.

Warning: Divorce

Requested = Yes

   My first Antonio Dawson imagine so hopefully I don’t screw this up.

Y/L/N = Your Last Name

   You had joined Chicago’s Intelligence Unit a few years back, transferring from Homicide, and you couldn’t have felt more at home.

   The moment that you walked into the bullpen, you knew you were at the right place. Plus, the fact that your partner was amazing at his job and super hot was a bonus as well. Unfortunately for you though, he was married and had two kids.

   The two of you were great together. Something just worked between you and Antonio and on the job, it made you two the dynamic duo.

   It was seemed like your typical day. You woke up, got ready for work, and stopped at a coffee shop on your way, picking up Antonio’s coffee as well since you knew his order like the back of your hand.

“Hey,” You greeted Antonio as you handed him his coffee, “You look like you had quite the night.”

   You took a sip of your coffee and Antonio sighed.

“Laura and I are getting a divorce.”

   The sip of coffee that you just took came flying out of your mouth and splattered over the floor of the district, right in front of Trudy.

“I hope you plan on cleaning that up Y/L/N,” Sargent Platt looked at you pointedly and you nodded.

“Of course,” You replied and then turned to Antonio, “What?”

   Antonio raised an eyebrow, “Is there more I have to say?”

   You gawped at him as he headed up to the bullpen.

“What do you mean is there more I have to say?” You were so surprised right now, “Of course there’s more you have to say.”

   Antonio shrugged, “Like what?”

   He then punched in the pin and started up the stairs, leaving you in shock while you were left to clean up the coffee on the floor.

~~~

“Y/L/N, the suspect is headed towards you and Dawson,” You heard Voight through the radio.

“There he is,” Antonio pointed out a man running somewhat in the direction of you two.

   You nodded, “We got eyes Sarge.”

“We can get him,” Antonio said and started the car.

“Sarge, we’re in pursuit of the suspect,” You radioed back over to Voight.

   Of course the prick noticed that you and Antonio were coming after him so he started down the smaller streets between some of the houses where there was only a sidewalk, making it unable to follow him in a car.

“I’ll chase him, you try to cut him off with the car,” You told Antonio before leaping out of the car.

   With a loud thud, you landed on the concrete and started sprinting after him. He was fast, but you were too and you hadn’t been running as long as he had, giving you a slight advantage.

   You had cornered the suspect into a dead end and new it was over now for him. 

“It’s over,” You said, slightly out of breath, “It’s over now.”

   You started inching closer towards the suspect when out of no where, he rammed himself into your body. 

   You felt yourself being slammed against the hard pavement before two hands gripped your shoulders and heaved you up. Your head smacked into the ground underneath you followed by the rest of your body.

“Hey!”

   The guy was thrown off of you and you shakily sat up, your head pounding.

“Y/N.”

   You closed your eyes, waiting for the ache to pass but it never did.

“You okay Y/L/N?” You heard Voight’s voice ask and you subconsciously nodded.

   Voight snorted, “I’d think not. Dawson, take her to Med to get checked out.”

“I’m fine,” You started to protest but your head hurt too much to object as Antonio heaved you to your feet and started guiding you towards the car.

~~~

   You were sent home with a concussion and some time off of work, despite your stubbornness about the fact that you were in fact fine.

   You were laying on the couch with the lights off when a knock on the door made you open your eyes.

   Slowly, you got up and headed towards the door. You looked through the peep hole and was surprised to see Antonio standing on the other side.

“Hey,” You greeted him as you opened the door.

   Antonio smiled back, “How’re you feeling?”

“Oh, you know,” You laughed lightly, “Fine.”

“Of course,” Antonio chuckled and you lead him to the couch where he took a seat.

   You took a seat next to him before leaning back, “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Antonio nodded, but something about the way he said it made you skeptical.

“Come on, you know you can talk to me,” You told him. You and Antonio were always there for each other and could say anything to the other person.

   It was part of the thing between the two of you. It was what made you two such great partners.

“I love you Y/N,” Antonio blurted out, catching you off guard.

   You chuckled, thinking it was a joke, “Look, I’m not that injured. I’ll live you know.”

“I know,” Antonio nodded, “But I’m serious Y/N. I love you. And it’s not just the whole divorce thing. I loved you the moment you joined the unit. I loved you the moment you introduced yourself. I love you.”

   Before you could stop yourself, you turned to face Antonio before leaning in to kiss him. When you parted, you looked into his eyes.

“I love you too,” You whispered and Antonio smiled before leaning back in to kiss you again.

[anotheronechicagobog]

In my opinion Jay Halstead is overrated, everyone loves him even though he has done a lot of horrible things. Which is why I see fit not for him to be Intelligence Sergeant yet, he has to admit he has made a lot of mistakes before he can even think about becoming a sergeant

I can see your thought process. While I do love Jay it is annoying that the show is always so focused on him, I'd really like to hear more about Kevin, explore his character more. As for the whole Sargent thing, I don't think anyone in intelligence is capable of being Sargent yet. I think that if they have to replace Hank Voight (which they should) Trudy Platt should become the new Sargent. She seems more qualified than Voight and she should've been in charge of intelligence from the start imo.

[chicago-pd-is-weird]

Adam needs to be promoted to detective, period. He just does. That’s what I want to see this season.

Also, I want to see Hank happy and find a civilian he can live and rely on. It doesn’t have to be steamy romance, but more of a best friend with a little more. I think a nurse would be a really good fit to balance him out.

Also, I just need more Trudy Platt. She holds such a special place in my heart and I miss her so much.

This is necessary in the next season of Chicago pd

More of Dante Torres, is time to get more deep in his arc. Showing how skilled he is

Burzeck Wedding right now, Kim and Adam need officially tie knot

And is time to Kevin Atwater, bee more than just the black guy on the unit.( rumors says he will get some love)

Plus time for Detective promotion!!!

What you want this season?

[wwemcumuscleslover]

Our fearless Sargent Trudy Platt was in Movie Theaters recently.

Amy Morton Play Jenny Bloom in IT END WITH US, she is the Mother of Blake Lively' caracther.

[thegirlwhobrokeintothetardis]

Family (Hank Voight x Daughter!Reader)

Word Count: 3,033

Pairing: Hank Voight x Reader (Familial relationship)

Summary: When you were 8 and dealing with a mother who left when you could barely walk and a father who was too loaded to even remember he was a father, Hank Voight found you and took you in. Now as an adult and working as a firefighter at Firehouse 51, you are shocked when your biological parents come back to be in your life again.

Warnings: talks of child abuse, drug abuse, alcohol abuse, swearing, and angst.

A/N: Y/M/N - Your Middle Name. Also, this is probably the longest imagine I’ve written so far, I hope you all enjoy it :)

If you want to be added to my tags, just ASK!!!

“Excuse me.” 

A rough gravely voice made 8 year old you look up at the imposingly tall figure above you. You squinted as flurries of Chicago snow fluttered around the two of you, sticking to the cracked cement and dried up grass on the sidewalk. The man had short dark hair and what your child’s brain thought of as “Dumbo-like” ears. He wore a blue and black police uniform and had a shiny silver star badge pinned to his chest.

“Hi,” The man said, moving down to kneel so that you were both around the same height. “Are you lost?”

You stared at the police officer for a second before shaking your head no, “I live around the corner.”

“Oh okay, how about I walk you home? Your mom and dad must be worried about you.” He offered. Again, you shook your head.

“I don’t want to go home. I don’t have a mom and my dad’s mean.”

“Mean?”

“Yeah, he yells and-and one time he pushed me into the tiny table in the tv room and it really hurt.” You explained, not really understanding your situation but something clicked in the police officer’s eyes. “But a lot of the time he gets sleepy from the bottles of smelly juice and the needles.”

The police officer nodded, and looked down the road in the direction you pointed out where you live. There is a long silence as you shifted on your tiny feet, not really knowing what was going on. Then the police officer turned to you and smiled, his eyes warm as they looked at you.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” He asked.

“Y/F/N Y/L/N.”

“Well Y/N, my name is Officer Hank Voight. How would you feel about riding in a police car and seeing a real police station?”

For the first time since he found you, Hank saw your sad expression change into a huge smile, your eyes lighting up like the skyline on Chicago he loves so much. And he knew then that he was gonna help you out in anyway that he could.

                                                           ---

23 years later...

“Hey, Voight! You got someone outside asking for you!” Lieutenant Kelly Severide called out. You looked up from the cards in your hand and then looked around at your friends on Truck 81 who you were playing cards with. 

“Who is it?” You asked, already putting your cards down.

“A woman? Says her name is Carla Jennings.”

Still confused, you got up and made your way out to the bay where the trucks and ambo sat waiting for action. Capp and Joe Cruz were sitting at the Squad table, looking up when you walked in and Joe pointed out a woman who was standing just outside the station. Her light brown and gray hair was pulled into a ponytail and she looked around jittery, her hands popping in and out of her jacket pockets. It was gray outside, another Chicago winter just started and soon enough the snow would fall down on the Windy City. 

You walked over to the woman, her jittery motions stopping when she saw you approaching. A smile came on her face, and for a second you thought that you saw her eyes water a bit from the sight of you. “Carla Jennings?”

“Yes, hi.” Carla said, pulling out her hands from her jacket again. It looked almost like she was going to go in for a hug, but stopped and then held her hand out to you. “Y/N, right?”

“Yes, Y/F/N Voight. Is there something I can help you with ma’am?” You asked. Her smile that she had on before dimmed a bit when you said your name, but she forced it back on after you shook her hand and let go.

“Wow, look at you. You’re so grown up now.”

“Excuse me?”

“I-I just, I’m sorry.” Carla wiped away a couple of tears and sniffled, trying not to look away from you. “It’s just its been so long.”

“Ma’am, I’m sorry but I think there’s been some mistake. I don’t know who-”

“Your last name. It wasn’t always Voight.”

You stopped, and looked at her as she walked a little closer to you. You could feel the eyes of your fellow firefighters watching this interaction, then being just as confused as you were. “I’m sorry?”

“Your last name, it was Y/L/N. I’m right, aren’t I?” Carla said.

“Who are you? How do you know that?” You asked. Carla’s eyes started to water again, and she looked at you and sighed.

“Y/N, I’m your mom.”

You look at her, eyes scanning over her trying to piece together what she had said. You weren’t stupid, you knew that she was probably referring to your biological mother, not your mom, Camille Voight who raised you like her own and died of cancer. You had no memories of this woman standing in front of you.

“My mom died in 2011 of ovarian cancer.”

“No, I’m your real mom. I gave birth to you and held you and-”

“Left? You left and you left me with that man.” You said, your voice a little louder then before. She looked stunned, like this was news to her. “I’m sorry but whatever you want, I’m not interested.” 

You go to turn away and walk back into the firehouse when Carla grabbed your arm and stopped you. “Please! Please I’m you mom, I’m your blood!!”

You pulled away and turned back to her, “No, you are not my mom. You are a woman who was supposed to take care of me and left me with a drunk of a man before my dad came and took me in. So I owe you nothing.”

“Is everything okay here?” Chief Boden asked, finally walking over to the two of you and trying to catch your eye.

“Yeah, everything is fine. We’re done here.” You said as you took one last look at Carla and walked back towards the house. Herrmann tried to stop you but you walked past everyone and straight into Boden’s office, sitting down and waiting for him to come back inside. The anger you felt before in front of that woman started to settle down, and overwhelming emotions of loathing, sadness, and abandonment bubbled up until you were trying to hold back sobs. The office door opened and Chief Boden, and Lieutenants Casey and Severide walked in, all three circling you in worry.

“Y/N, what happened?” Severide asked, slowly putting a hand on your back and rubbing it up and down. Your crying started to subside, and once you got to a point where you were just sniffling and whipping tears away, you finally looked up to the three men around you. 

“Um, so that was my biological mother. And... I haven’t seen her since I was maybe 3?” You explained. You turned to Chief Boden and took a deep breath. “Is there any way I could clock out early? I-I need to see my dad.”

“Of course, you shouldn’t be working with this going on anyway. Take a couple days and come back with a clear mind.”

“Yes sir. Do you mind if I wait inside until she is gone? I feel like she might still be out there waiting for me.”

“How about we drop you off at the 21st?” Casey said, then turning to Boden, “We’ll have our radios on in case there is a call.”

Boden looked at you then nodded, “Go.”

“Thanks Chief.” You said, getting up and patting both Casey and Severide on the shoulders before passing them and heading towards the locker room to change. Your mind was racing as you got out of your work clothes, memories of what felt like a past life, waking up with beer and condiments in the fridge, hand-me-down clothes from the family 2 houses down that felt bad for my situation, but said nothing. Once the image of the red-hungover eyes and gnarled and matted hair came into your mind, you shut your locker, snapping yourself back into the present.

                                                         ---

Once everyone was on 81, the truck headed off into the city to your dad’s district. It was silent as the truck stopped at lights and turned corners, finally you got to the 21st and was about to jump out of the truck when Lieutenant Casey called out to you. “Yes, Lieutenant?”

“I hope you’re able to work everything out.”

You sent a small smile his way, thanked him and jumped out. “See you guys later.”

“See you around, kid!” Herrmann yelled just as the truck took off back to the house. Turning, you started walking towards the station, the patrolmen mingling with others on the steps outside. Once you got in, you saw Sargent Trudy Platt manning the desk as usual and that put a small smile on your face. Trudy was always funny and nice to you growing up, and she treated you almost like a daughter. When she saw that you walked in, and by how observant she is probably catching your puffy face and red eyes, concern completely took over her stature.

“What is it? What happened?” She asked, coming around her desk and over to you, rubbing your arms comfort.

“Is my dad here? I just need to talk to him about something.”

“He’s out right now with Olinsky right now, but I think he’ll be back soon. You sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

“Maybe later,” You said, taking a deep breath and shrugging, “I want to talk dad first.”

Trudy took a second before nodding, “I’ll buzz you up so you can wait in his office.”

“Thanks, Trudy.” You said as she gave your arm a gentle squeeze and walked back to your desk.

“You know you are the only person that I can tolerate, Y/F/N Y/M/N.” Trudy called out. She and Alvin Olinsky, your dad’s best friend, were the only two who got into the habit of calling you by your first and middle name. Instead of it feeling like you were in trouble like it would when you were a kid, it was always met with love. You were just about to start walking up the stairs to head into Intelligence when a male voice called out.

“Y/N? Y/F/N Y/L/N?” You froze, that voice immediately sending anxiety through you like a bucket of cold water. You slowly turned around and found a man trying to stand up from a bench, but was handcuffed to it. He looked exactly the same as he did when you were 8, exactly from when you would see him in your nightmares after moving in with the Voights. His hair was matted and looked unwashed, his eyes red and teeth yellow, and even from how far you were from him, you could smell beer wafting off him. “It is you. Where’ve you been, girl?”

“Danny.” You said, trying to keep your cool. You could see that Trudy had picked up the phone and was whispering something into it, you only catching your name and “get here now”. 

“Danny? What happened to dad, huh?”

“You stopped being my dad the minute I left that hellhole called a house.”

“Sorry darlin’, but that’s not how gen-et-tics works. You’re my kin and I will always be a part of you no matter who raises you.”

“Shut up.” You yelled. Others in the station were watching your interaction, you even heard the gate open at the top of the stair and figured that whoever was up at Intelligence came down to see what was wrong.

“Oh, don’t like that now do you? You can try and hide where you came from and clean yourself up, but you will always be Y/F/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, and you will follow in your families footsteps. You’ll either leave like that junkie-whore mama of yours, or you’ll end up like your dear-ol’-daddy.” He smirked as you started shaking, him noticing your reacting and smirking more, “You can’t run from what you’re made of.”

Just as he said that, Hank and Alvin Olinsky rushed into the building, Hank noticing you and turning to Danny who looked like he just won something. “Get him out of here.” Hank said, pointing to a patrolman near Danny. As the officer uncuffed Danny from the bench and recuffed his hands together, he started yelling.

“Ha! Now you got your crooked cop to come and save the day! Just like when you were a kid!” Danny started putting up a fight with the officer, trying to stay in the area, then turned to Hank, “You can take her and gussy her up, but trash is still trash.”

“Get him out of here!!” Hank yelled again, and two more officers ran over and finally took Danny out of the space. You were still staring at where he was when you felt a hand on your arm and harshly flinched. 

It was just Hank, and he frown at your reaction to him, not seeing that happen since you first came to live with him and Camille. “Hey, lets go upstairs.”

You nodded, and the two of you walk up to the Intelligence Unit, you can feel the people downstairs all watching after that spectacle. Once you were both safely in Hank’s office, you both sat down in the chairs in front of his desk, Hank’s eyes still on you as you avoid his.

“Why aren’t you at the firehouse?” 

“After what just happened, you won’t believe me if I told you.”

After a few seconds of silence, you finally looked up at your dad, and he gave you a look you remember a lot from your childhood with him. It basically said, ‘try me’, which made you sigh and rub your hands over your face.

“This woman came to the house asking for me, Carla Jennings, and ended up telling me that she was my mother. My biological mother.” You explain. Hank looked shocked, him never even knowing your bio mom. “I wanted to come see you so Chief Boden gave me a couple of days to get my head straight. And then that happened.”

“Yeah, Trudy said he was arrested on a DUI that almost killed a little girl.”

“Jesus Christ.” 

You sighed, hating that you came from him in the first place. You dropped you head into your hands as the information sunk in.

“Hey,” Hank said, putting a hand on your back and rubbing soothing circles, happy that he didn’t have to see you flinch because of him again, “Don’t you dare listen to his words.”

“Isn’t he right though? I was lucky to get out of that hell of a home because of you, but his and that woman’s genes are in me. Its a matter of time before I screw everything up.”

“Genetics don’t mean shit. Hey, look at me,” You looked up and he had a determined look in his eye, “You may have came from them, but their mistakes don’t rule over what you will do. Look what you have done without them here; you graduated top of your class in high school, and then again when you graduated from the Fire Academy. You showed all those sexists bastards that you are just as good, if not better, than any man on that truck, and now there is word that you might be up for a promotion to squad?”

“What?” You said, shocked with the information.

“Boden called me last week saying that you had been taking the classes needed to get on rescue squad? And because you are amazing and smart and strong, there was word from the higher ups that you might get that open spot on Squad 3 as the first woman in the Chicago Fire Department history to be admitted to rescue squad.” Hank explained. You started to smile as some tears escaped out of a mix of happiness, confusion and some residual feelings from what had happened earlier today. “They’re just finalizing some things but they’re going to announce it at the Fireman’s Ball later this month.”

“Oh my god.”

“And you did that all without them. They had no say on these things, and they will not have say on the rest of your life.” Hank said, pulling you into a hug. The two of you hugged for a while, your tears subsiding as you basked in the feeling of love you were getting from your dad. 

“Thanks dad.” You said as you finally pulled away. He smiled and patted the top of your head, sneaking a kiss into your hairline while he was at it. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Goose. Taking you in was the best decision I ever made.” He said, making you smile wider than you were before. A beat of silence passed before there was a knock on the door and Alvin came in, his eyes bouncing from you to Hank in worry.

“Everything okay in here?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks Uncle Alvin.”

“Yeah, no problem kid.” He said, smiling at you and messing up your hair before turning back to Hank, “Ander’s girlfriend was picked up, she’s in interrogation.”

“Okay, I’ll be there in a minute.” Hank said, turning back to you as Alvin leaves.

You turn back to your dad and smile, “Can I stay in here? I kind of don’t want to go back to my apartment right now just in case that Carla woman knows where I live.”

“Yeah, take a nap on the couch in you want. We’re winding down with this case so when we’re done, you and me can go grab some dinner and we can talk about getting a restraining order on this lady.” Hank said. You were about to argue but you knew he was right. So you you nodded as Hank stood up and left one last kiss on your head before heading out of his office. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Be careful.”

Hank turned just as he was passed the doorway and smirked, “I’m always careful.”

“Oh-kay.” You said, sarcasm in your voice as you could hear your dad chuckle then head towards the interrogation rooms. 

TAGS:  @l4life​ @ithoughtiwasflying