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(tw: speeding, smoking, fire, & rebellion)

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(tw: speeding, smoking, fire, & rebellion)

"Let's meet back at the district and we'll decide where to go from there."  Voight orders.  

The unit walks out of the garage and you get into your car.  Rolling down the window, you see Voight walking over to you.  

"Hey, I need your help with some stuff on the down low."  Voight looks down at his hands and then at you.  

"Whatever you did, you can fix.  You are Hank Voight afterall."  You reach for the pack of Pall-Mall 100's on the dash and pull a cigarette out of the pack.  

"It's more of taking out some trash.  If you catch my drift."  Voight tugs at his bottom lip with his teeth.  

"If you're calling me in, I know it's not gonna be easy."  You put the cigarette to your lips and take a drag.  

"Mhm."  He nods. 

"Can it wait, or is it an urgent situation?"  You ask.  

"Sergeant Voight?"  A tall woman hollers from behind him.  

"Mhm?"  Voight turns around and walks over to the lady.  You put your car into gear and start the drive back to the district, shifting gears as you pace the car in front of you.  

You pull into the parking lot and walk upstairs into the bullpen and sit down at your desk.  Al looks up from his phone and looks at you.  

"What?"  You ask.  

He shakes his head subtly and looks back down.  Voight walks into the room with Adam on his left side and Jay behind him.  

"So we need to run facial rec on this guy who ate the 12 gauge—"  Voight starts to say before getting cut off.
"Ran it already, his name is Hal Anders.  52 years old.  No official priors."  Mouse murmurs the last bit.  

"The hell does that mean?"  You interject.  

"To put it nicely, he's part of a group that partakes in activities that are…"  Mouse stumbles over words, trying not to be blatant.  

"He's a Klan boy."  Olinsky says, not looking up from the file spread out on his lap.  

"Ok.  Run him through DB and see what you can find.  I want everything on all of them."  Voight nods and walks back into his office.  The unit breaks into groups and you meander into his office.  

"Sarge."  You announce as you cross the threshold.  

"Close the door."  He says, sitting back and crossing his arms.  You do as he asks and sit down across from him. 
"I have a box in the back of my car.  Just take it out, I want no evidence that it ever existed."  Voight says.  

"What would you do without me to do your dirty work?"  You ask, sitting back in the chair.  

"You get yourself into trouble, y'know I'm here for you baby."  He says, leaning forward and raising his eyebrows.  
"I like the way that sounds."  A slight smirk pulls at your lips.

Voight winks and then motions you out.  

"Here."  He tosses the keys to his Hellcat Durango at you.  "Try not to get pulled over, Christ's Sake."  Voight fights back a sarcastic laugh.  

"Yes daddy."  You say obediently. 
"Mhm, I'll take care of that later."  Hank shakes his head slowly.  

"Both of you?"  You ask in a pleading tone.

"Dismissed."  Voight motions you out the door and you do so.  

You walk down the steps, into the lobby.  

"Y/n!"  Platt yells.  

"Yes Ma'am?"  You ask, walking over to the front desk.  

Platt looks down at the keys in your hands then back up at you. 

"I thought you drove that old Ford?"  She raises an eyebrow.  

"Sergeant Voight let me borrow his car for a quick run."  You pull the keys off the counter and hold them in your hand.  

"Mhhm, alright.  While you're out, I need you to stop by the coroner's and pick up the file for Helena Platt."  She says. 

"Sure this Sarge!"  You nod and walk outside the district, trying to find where Voight parked.  You find the SUV and climb into the driver's seat.  

The interior is black leather with red stitching.  You slide the key in the ignition and the engine turns over gorgeously.  You pull out of the district and start the drive to the place Voight usually sends you to tend to business like this.  

You stop about a mile from the abandoned Silo Mill and turn your phone off.  You pull into the Silos and find a decent place to take the box.  You hop out of the car and grab the box of the backseat.  

You open the box and look at the contents.  A suit jacket, white undershirt, black slacks, and a pair of dress shoes sit in the box.  You toss them into a mental drum that sits on the concrete. 

You return to the backseat, pulling out a small container of gasoline, you empty it onto the clothes.  

You open the passenger door and open the glovebox and pull out a book of matches.  You see Voight's cigarettes sitting in the center console cup holder and grab the pack.  You light one and put it to your lips.  You drop the still-lit match into the mental drum and the clothes ignite.  

You shut the passenger door and stand against it, taking a long drag for the cigarette and zone out watching the flames roar within the can; You toss the butt into the fire after 2 puffs.  Within 5 minutes the flames die down and all that is left at the bottom of the barrel is the ashes of the singed clothes.  

You walk over to the drivers side, hop in the car and drive out of the abandoned mill.  You pull onto the road and gas it until you’re cruising at 70mph in a 40mph zone.  You look back in your rearview mirror and see a squad car pull out of a parking lot and flip his lights on.  

“Fuck.”  You whisper to yourself as you pull onto the shoulder of the road.  A few minutes later, an older man with a large nose and a wide face walks up to your window.  

“Sargent—  You’re not Hank Voight.”  The man’s eyes go wide and he clears his throat.  You look down at his badge and back up at him quickly.  

“Ruzek?”  You ask.  

“Yeah?”  He raises an eyebrow.  

“I work with Adam, he’s a good kid.”  You say.  

“That's for sure.  You’re good to go, Officer.”  Officer Ruzek says.  

“Detective.”  You say, correcting him.  

“Don’t push it.”  Ruzek says, nodding and then returning to his squad car. 

You pull off the side of the road and finish driving back to the district.  You pull into the parking lot and park the car.  You walk inside the lobby and hurry up the steps.  Sergeant Platt neglects to notice you.  

You walk into the bullpen and sit down at your desk, letting out a sigh.  

“Where you been?”  Al asks, looking over at you and then back at his computer.  

“Don’t worry about it.”  You say.  

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Alright, I am so happy to update this fic because it really is taking this GORGEOUS turn.  Idk, I might lose some readers but please remember this is set in season four.  Plus this is a Voight/Olinsky fic, what did you expect?

Much love x

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