What I Need- a Hank Voight Chicago PD fanfiction

Injured

It was her first time working out of the office, and Lana shifted in the metal seat. They had needed her on a surveillance run. Finally out on the street and she was stuck in the back of a nondescript van.

Still, with not being cleared for active duty, it was more than she had been expecting, and she was grateful for the change of scenery.

Not that she had much to look at at the moment.

The back door creaked open, and she glanced up to see Voight stepping in. He shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it over the chair beside Milani's and sat down.

"Anything?" he asked, and Lana shook her head.

"No, it's been quiet."

They were sitting on a house, waiting for a suspect to come home and she had already been here a few hours. She stretched, wincing a little as her left hand twinged. She had hit it on something this morning. It was just bruised enough to be annoying and she shook it out a little as she watched the surveillance feed in front of her.

"That the hand you injured?"

She glanced over, surprised he had noticed, to find Voight watching her.

"From the accident," he continued when she didn't answer right away.

"Oh, no," she dropped her hand in her lap. Of course he had finally gotten around to reading her file. "I just banged it on something this morning."

He hummed a little, watching Lana readjust some of the equipment that didn't seem to need adjusting.

"So it's the other one," he prompted.

"Hmm?" Lana glanced at him, like she had only half heard his question because she was busy. Except Lana wasn't the type to not pay attention.

"It's your right hand that got injured in the car accident." He asked it plainly, and she nodded.

"Yes sir."

Voight shrugged, scratching his chin. "I've never seen it give you any trouble."

He was curious, more by her reaction than anything. He understood keeping personal details away from the job, but an injury that affected her ability to be an officer was as much his business as he wanted it to be, and right now he wanted to know.

"It doesn't most days."

Voight considered that. He had seen cops taken out of action over stuff he never expected. If she hadn't been cleared by medical then she hadn't been cleared. Maybe her attitude now was just frustration, that something that she barely noticed kept her from fully doing the job she loved. She hadn't walked away, had found a part of the job she could do, but sometimes that was harder. To be that close to what you wanted and to have to watch other people get to step in.

"So what happened."

Lana's brow rose a little, Voight was being abnormally talkative and she wasn't quite sure how to take that. He worded questions in a way that prompted information. Direct questions got succinct response. Vague inquiries got people talking.

"You read the file," she countered, and his expression moved, fell into that look that said he was not pleased. Lana pretended not to notice. She had never got to read the file, didn't know how much it reported and how much it didn't.

How many of her lies had made it in to print.

His forefingers flexed from where they were laced against his stomach and she watched them tap in agitation.

"We were having a conversation. I can ask you again, Milani."

His meaning was clear, she didn't get to ignore questions from her superior officer, not about the job, and he was not afraid to pull rank if she wanted to act like their little arrangement meant she got to ignore authority.