Balance
@yourcrazyshipper, I got the idea from one of your posts, so thank you!
Voight/Dawson/Stone fic, oneshot
Summary: Emotions run high as the life of one hangs in the balance and another has trouble coping.
The elevator doors had barely opened before he practically jumped out and dashed down the hallway. As he neared his destination, he caught sight of officers at the end of the hall so he forced himself to stop. He took a moment to regain his composure, before crossing the rest of the way to the waiting area and looking around.
The seats were filled with police, the remainder electing to stand along the walls in groups. An energized hum was echoing throughout the space as everyone waited anxiously for news, and the chance to do something.
His eyes immediately sought out the group of officers nearest the doors to the operating theaters. The members of the Intelligence Unit were the picture of quiet and calm - he doubted they were feeling that inside - except for one who was pacing in front of the doors restlessly.
He quickly made his way over, panic and a need for answers churning in his gut, but was stopped suddenly when Kim Burgess stood and intercepted him.
Her face was grim, she looked tired and stressed, but she spoke right away once she stood in front of him.
“Peter, hey,” she said.
“How is he?” Peter asked quickly.
“Still in surgery,” she looked down at the time on her phone, but Peter already knew the surgery had been going on for five hours. He’d counted every minute of it as he’d sped home. Of all the days to be conducting witness interviews across the state… “it’s been about five hours. No one’s been out to tell us anything..”
No news was good news… right?
He clenched his jaw and looked over her shoulder, “how about-“
“You need to talk to him,” Kim cut in, her voice quiet but urgent, “he’s not handling it well. Barely said a word when we got here. But now he won’t settle. And I don’t think he’s even heard a thing I’ve said to him.”
Peter didn’t need any persuading. He put a hand on her shoulder in thanks before stepping around and making his way over.
Aware of the many eyes around them, he waited until he was basically standing in the path being carved into the ground before saying anything.
“Antonio,” the questions that had been crowding his mind the whole drive over died the moment Antonio stopped in his tracks and looked at him. Instead, Peter took one look at Antonio, the downcast and lost expression etched into his features, and felt the wind get knocked right out of his chest. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and gather him into his arms, but he resisted. He was thankful that Kim had followed him however, and when Antonio stopped, had put a hand on his shoulder comfortingly. Thankful, and a bit jealous, that she could comfort him and he couldn’t.
“Peter?” Antonio whisper almost sounded more like a sigh even if it carried the hint of confusion at seeing him there.
Peter almost broke down right there just to hold him, bystanders be damned, but he just swallowed hard and said in a quiet and collected voice, “Let’s talk.”
Antonio looked unsure and glanced back at the doorway. He didn’t want to leave.
“I’ll come get you if we hear anything.” Al, who was standing nearest to them, reassured them.
Antonio only hesitated a moment longer, before he nodded in thanks to Al, and allowed Kim to guide him, with an arm across his back, out of the waiting area and down the hall, Peter leading the way.
They went to the restrooms, and Kim nudged Antonio forward to the door Peter held open for him. Her worried gaze followed her partner, and when he was past Peter into the restroom, she leaned back onto the wall outside to wait.
Peter took a moment to check each of the stalls and make sure they were alone, while Antonio stayed right where he was, just inside the door. Sure there was no one else in there with them, he turned to Antonio and pulled him close, a sigh leaving him. Antonio didn’t move at first, stiff as a board, but finally, his arms came up around Peter’s back, and he seemed to loosen the tiniest bit with the motion. They stood there like that for a few seconds more, until Peter pulled back and held Antonio’s jaw lightly in his hand to get a better look at him.
Jesus. Antonio was a mess. His eyes were dark with despair and shock. His face was lined with stress, too pale, had tired circles under his eyes. A streak of blood ran back across his cheek, making it worse. He pulled Antonio’s arms away and looked down. His hands still had blood on them, and it wasn’t just his hands: his sleeves did too, and there was some on the front of his jacket as well. Nausea rose in him as he thought about whose blood Antonio was covered in, along with a new worry.
“Are you okay? Are you injured?” The worst thing that could happen right now, was have Antonio collapse from an injury they missed in all the confusion.
Antonio looked like he was about to answer, but his eyes widened as they caught on something behind Peter, and he froze. Then, without warning, Antonio spun around and ran to the bathroom stall and dropped down in front of the toilet, losing whatever contents he’d had in his stomach. Peter looked behind him and only saw a mirror on the wall. He ran to the towel dispenser with a curse and grabbed a handful of paper towels, running it under the water quickly before crossing to Antonio, who continued to cough and heave dryly in the stall.
“It’s okay. You’re okay,” he soothed, rubbing Antonio’s back gently.
When Antonio had gotten his breathing under control and flushed the toilet, Peter helped him to his feet and led him to the sink.
He felt helpless as he stood there, unable to say the words he knew Antonio wanted to hear, separated from another who was in trouble, and could only watch Antonio rub at the blood on his hands, turning the water red as it swirled to the drain. It also didn’t help that, inside, he was drowning in his own turmoil, not knowing what was happening and afraid of what was going to happen: if Hank was going to live or die.
Antonio finished washing his hands and face off, but he stayed leaned over the sink with his eyes closed.
“Antonio,” he spoke his name softly, but he hoped he’d hear him over whatever thoughts were no doubt circling in his head, “you need to be strong. Be strong for him. They’re doing everything they can for him right now. So we’re going to go back out there, and be there for him when he pulls through.”
Despite the fear and uncertainty of what could happen next, he had to stay positive, he had to believe that Hank would make it.
Antonio nodded, but he still didn’t move.
“C’mere,” Peter stepped closer, and pulled Antonio in, and he didn’t resist, instead leaned heavily against him, and a knot in Peter’s gut loosened as he did. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he admitted quietly, resting his forehead against Antonio’s temple.
But at the words, Antonio stiffened up again and pulled away, “We need to go back.”
Peter was confused and startled by his reaction, but he understood that, right now, Antonio needed to be as close to Hank as he could and find out what was happening.
“Alright, let’s go.”
*~*~*~*~*
Antonio rubbed his strained neck roughly and leaned back in the waiting room chair with a huff. He moved his hand to press against his hip when the movement caused a stinging pain to flare, taking a another looked around at the tired faces of his team, Peter and Trudy, the only ones remaining in the waiting area. Their coworkers had slowly filtered out over the three hours since he had returned with Peter and Kim, each requesting they be notified when there was news.
His gaze went back down when he felt the press of fingers against the side of his thigh, and stopped the rapid bouncing of his knee. He looked at Peter apologetically, but all Peter did was give him a small smile and brush his hand lightly against his on the armrest.
Peter’s presence was a Godsend, and he was in awe that the man had driven back in the middle of the night, after what had been a long day of interviews, to be here. He didn’t know what he’d do without him.
But at the same time, he felt guilty, because this was all his fault.
The swish of the doors had his head snapping up to see a doctor heading towards them. When all of them jumped up at once to meet her, she gave them a smile.
“You must be here for Sergeant Voight. I’m Dr. Chopra, I’m an orthopedic surgeon. The surgery went well,” she cut to the chase, “we removed the bullet and were able to repair the damage it caused and reconstruct much of the tissue. The rest will heal with time and he should recover fully with rehabilitation.”
All at once, a collective sigh sounded and the tension in their group was replaced by relief.
“Can we see him?” Antonio asked quickly.
“He’s being moved to the PACU now, until he comes out from under the anesthesia, but visiting hours aren’t for awhile,” she told him with a sympathetic look.
No. He needed to see him and make sure he really was okay, “Doctor, I,” he made to step forward, but his leg seemed to just collapse under him and his vision swam.
“Antonio!” he felt hands grab him. Something hit his hip, the sharp, sudden pain leaving him breathless right before the world turned black.
*~*~*~*~*
He opened his eyes to a white ceiling, and the smell of antiseptic in the air. There was a slight ache on his hip, and as he pressed against it, he felt the padding of gauze beneath his shirt. He could hear low voices speaking nearby.
Pushing himself up, he beat back the head rush that clouded his vision as he got a glimpse of Peter and Kim at his feet.
“Hey, slow down,” Kim was at his side, steadying him with a hand on his shoulder.
“What happened?” he muttered, looking at her and Peter, who still stood at the foot of his bed. Kim looked to Peter, but his eyes were locked with Antonio’s an unreadable expression on his face, so she answered.
“You passed out. Doc says you were dehydrated, exhausted.” she trailed off with a shake of her head, “you didn’t say you were hurt. But she cleaned it out and said she’s gonna give you antibiotics.”
Antonio looked down at his hand, nodding at her words. Then he remembered, “Did Hank wake up?”
“No, not yet” she said, “you were only out for twenty minutes.”
When silence carried after she spoke, she took another look at Peter, who was still studying Antonio.
“Okay, I’m gonna check in with everyone. They’ll be glad to know you’re awake.”
She left him and Peter to their silence.
Peter finally moved from the foot of the bed, dragging a chair to the bedside. Then he pushed forward a tray that Antonio hadn’t noticed before.
He knew he didn’t have a choice here, so he picked up the soda and cracked it open, taking a sip, then grabbed the granola bar and peeled it open and began picking at it. Antonio felt a blush creep up on him as he did this, all while neither of them spoke.
Finally having enough, he decided to say something. All of this was his fault. He should apologize.
“Peter-”
“You can’t do this.” Peter interrupted quietly.
His apology caught in his throat at Peter’s pleading tone.
“You need to take care of yourself. You can’t hide injuries, can’t force yourself to keep going until you pass out from exhaustion.” Anger was starting to leak into Peter’s voice now, and he looked away in shame.
He heard Peter take a deep breath. Then, Peter reached out and took Antonio’s hand in his.
“Please, Antonio. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you both.”
“He stepped in front of me,” his voice was shaky, barely a whisper.
“What?”
He said it again, just loud enough for Peter to hear this time, “He stepped in front of me.”
Peter just stared at him, shocked.
“We cleared the house. I was looking at files on the desk. Next thing I know, Hank’s pushing me aside, and he just falls.”
He can still see it: catching Hank as he’s collapsing to the ground, dragging him to cover as the shots keep coming at them. Raising his gun and firing down the hallway, hearing the thud of Emmerich’s body hitting the floor.
Stripping off Hank’s vest and pressing down hard, blood still leaking out between his fingers.
Hank wasn’t supposed to be there; he was lying in the hospital bed that was meant for him.
The bed dipped when Peter sat on its edge. He pulled Antonio forward and leaned his forehead against his.
“He’s okay, Antonio.” Peter reassured him.
But Antonio shook his head, “I need to see him.”
“I know.”
*~*~*~*~*
“Thank God he’s a neat freak,” he chuckled at Antonio’s remark as the detective began to dig through the files stacked on Emmerich’s desk.
He walked across the room to the glass board, neat handwriting detailing locations and names. Where was Emmerich hiding?
“I think I got something.”
He backed up a few steps and turned to see Antonio holding out one of the files out for him to look at. He moved closer, reaching out to take the file from his partner’s hand when a flicker of light made his heart stutter in his chest. He didn’t think, just saw the dot traveling upward on Antonio’s chest and moved. He lunged forward, pushing Antonio back and stepping forward.
He felt the bullet tear into the side of his chest and then, nothing.
Everything was blurry. He blinked his eyes, slowly, attempting to get everything to clear up. It took a few tries, but he was able to see his surroundings better. Definitely a hospital room. Fluorescent lights, blue walls, that too-clean smell. As sensations came back to him, he looked down when he realized something was covering his hand. Warmth rushed through him when he saw Antonio, head down on the mattress, facing away from him, with his hand over his, sleeping soundly at his bedside. Movement near the wall made him look over, and he saw Peter curled up on the bench, his back to them.
He smiled, and squeezed Antonio’s hand lightly.
Antonio let out a quiet hum but didn’t move. He tried again, squeezing his hand twice.
This time, Antonio stirred, lifting his head slowly, and rubbed the back of his hand across his eyes. He turned to face Hank. His eyes were struggling open, but the moment he saw Hank looking at him, they widened immediately and he beamed.
“Hey! You really awake this time? Not just gonna fall asleep on me again?” Antonio whispered, his tone light.
“I think so,” Hank breathed, voice quiet and throat uncomfortably dry..
Antonio reached over for the cup on the tray, raised the bed so he could sit up, and held the cup for him to drink.
When Hank finished and Antonio put the cup back, he motioned over to Peter, still sound asleep, “when did he get back?”
“A few hours ago, while you were still in surgery,” Antonio whispered, smiling at him, “How’re you feeling?”
He honestly felt alright, if a bit out of it. He suspected that was the painkillers.
“I’m good. Really,” he added when Antonio eyed him critically, “How about you? You look like crap.”
“I’m fine.”
The way he said it suggested otherwise, “What’s wrong?”
The words had Antonio’s eyes widening as he repeated them in disbelief, “‘What’s wrong?’” he stood up from his chair, and walked to the foot of the bed, rubbing the back of his head harshly, “Jesus, Hank.” He turned back around and motioned at him, exasperatedly, “You’re in the damn hospital. You shouldn’t have stepped in front of that bullet, Hank. You could have died.”
The reaction was so quick, Hank suspected it’d been on Antonio’s mind for a while now. But this was ridiculous, “Of course I should have. And if jumping between you and a bullet meant you would be safe, I’d do it every time.”
Antonio shook his head, but Hank didn’t want to get into this anymore right now.
“Hey, come here,”
Antonio hesitated for a second, but he exhaled, his shoulders dropping, and walked back over to Hank’s side.
Hank reached up with his one - currently - good arm, and pulled Antonio to him when he leaned forward. He wrapped his arm around him tightly as Antonio buried his face into the crook of his neck.
“You can’t do that to me,” he closed his eyes at Antonio’s broken plea.
“I’m okay. I’m here.” He pressed a kiss to Antonio’s head and held him close.
He opened his eyes a few moments later and saw Peter was awake, sitting forward on the bench, watching them. When he caught Peter’s eyes, Peter gave him a sad, but relieved smile, which Hank returned.
They all needed to have a little talk later, but right now, he just wanted to sit and enjoy the comfort of being with Antonio and Peter, alive, another day.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
That’s it! That was fun. Hope you enjoyed!
Since OneChicago is on a 3-wk break, maybe I’ll be inspired to finish the dozen fics I have sitting in my drive. One of them is a Hanktonio one, so if you like this and “Counting,” stay tuned for more!
