Nemo Resideo

Part 8

Olinsky leaned against the door frame of the breakroom, legs crossed at the ankles and hat pulled down into his face enough to cast a shadow over most of his features, thereby allowing him to observe the rest of the unit. Casually peeling an orange, he watched as they all gathered around Antonio's desk to quietly talk and laugh in between bites of their late brunch. After being woken up in the wee hours of the morning, this was the first time today that they got a break from tracking down leads, interviewing witnesses, and interrogating potential suspects, so the breather was long overdue and well-deserved.

Nevertheless, as Al listened to the easy-going banter and analysis of the results of some random game – he tuned out the details for he didn't bother or care about whatever sports they were discussing – as well as a night in Molly's two days ago, he felt a gnawing pang of sadness and disappointment that none of them stopped to even mention the name of the one detective that was absent from the bullpen right now. O was still reeling from the events of the morning, their blatant disregard and lack of support of a team member who was very obviously injured and in a lot of pain. It irked him tremendously how unconcerned they all seemed to be about Jay, even more so because this was the second instance in as many weeks that he bore witness to it, and at this point he wondered if there had been other times before that he had missed.

The seasoned detective wouldn't blame anyone for not daring to speak up in front of Voight, especially when the latter was in as terrible a mood as he had been all morning. In a way, he could understand that they didn't want to get in the crossfire and by that on the sergeant's bad side. Their boss could be admittedly scary and unpredictable at times. No, he didn't hold that against them at all. But even if they didn't jump to Halstead's defense, they should at the very least have shown some compassion and been worried about the kid.

And yet, as much as he wanted to be angry with all of them on Jay's behalf, he knew if he wanted to get the problem resolved, he wouldn't accomplish that by laying into any of them. They were only the budding flowers on the surface of the issue, after all. The root of it was the terrible role-modeling the Intelligence leader exemplified by shunning the kid and unjustly tearing him a new one out in the open. But Olinsky wasn't going to stand by and allow that a second time. Not when they all, him included, had dropped the ball on Halstead so cruelly just a couple weeks ago without ever giving him the benefit of the doubt. The former ranger didn't deserve any of it then, and he certainly didn't deserve it now either. Instead, he deserved someone on his side, someone who stood up for him, and since no one else seemed keen on doing it, it would have to be him.

Decision made, O pushed himself away from the door frame and meandered in the direction of Voight's office, casually chancing a glance as he detoured to the closest waste bin to throw away his orange peel. The man was reading a file while simultaneously sipping on his coffee but didn't appear to be immersed in anything important right now. It was the moment Alvin had been waiting for all morning and he wasn't going to dally away at the opportunity to call his long-time partner out on his poor and downright disrespectful treatment of their youngest detective.

Swallowing the last bites of his orange, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and his palms on his pants before confidently striding into the small quarters. He closed the door behind him, the soft thud and click enough to alert Hank to his presence. "What was that this morning?" he asked without preamble, not even waiting for his superior to address him, and gracefully moved to the leather couch across from the desk.

Voight put down his mug and the file he was reading, then slouched back in his swivel chair in a fake relaxed position, elbows perched on the arm rests and hands loosely clasped in front of his chest. Slightly raising his eyebrows at his friend, he stared at him unblinking, his expression mostly neutral with just a smidgen of arrogance peppered into his features. It was apparent in his non-reaction that he had been expecting and likely preparing for this confrontation. "What was what?" he retorted bluntly, feigning ignorance and nonchalance, a slight forward dip of his thumbs demanding the seasoned detective to elaborate on what he was referring to.