Anchor - Christopher Herrmann [1] [REWRITING]

CHAPTER FOURTEEN -- HANK VOIGHT

CHAPTER FOURTEEN
HANK VOIGHT

As I stepped forward, the office door swung open, revealing Hank standing on the other side. He looked at me with a warm, somewhat unexpected smile. "Mel, come in," he said, his voice surprisingly light. I couldn't help but be taken aback by the ease of his expression, considering how we had last parted ways.

Stepping into the room, I heard the soft click of the door closing behind me. Hank gestured to the chair in front of his desk. "Please, sit," he added, settling into his own chair with a casual ease.

I sat down, though it felt like there was a world of space between us. He leaned back slightly, folding his hands together as he studied me with a knowing look.

"So," Hank began, his voice thoughtful, "what brings you by? If I recall correctly, the last time we spoke, you made it clear you wanted nothing to do with me."

I met his gaze and replied with a small, almost reluctant smile. "I didn't. But someone close to me thought I should give you a chance."

Hank's eyebrows shot up. "Christopher Herrmann?" he asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and surprise.

I tilted my head, narrowing my eyes slightly. "Have you been spying on me?" I teased, an edge of playful challenge in my voice.

He let out a low chuckle, clearly unbothered. "I'm a police sergeant, Mel. What did you expect?" he replied with a grin, the tension in the room easing just a fraction.

Before I knew it, we were both laughing. The sound felt like a brief release from all the unspoken words that had been left hanging between us. Hank smiled, clearly pleased. "I'm glad you came," he said, his voice softening a little. "Now, I'd like to know more about you."

I raised an eyebrow. "Don't you already know everything about me?"

Hank's grin widened, the amusement still there. "I'd like to hear it from you," he said, leaning forward slightly, his interest piqued. "Tell me about you. Your hobbies, your job... and how you meet Herrmann."

I smiled at the mention of Herrmann's name. "Alright then," I said, taking a deep breath. "Well, I'm in my third year of residency at Chicago Med. I'm about to choose my specialty soon," I added, glancing at Hank to gauge his reaction.

A look of pride flickered across his face. "What are you thinking?" he asked, clearly intrigued.

"Trauma," I replied, the word coming easily. "I didn't realise it was for me until I met Christopher in the ER. He came in with injuries after being stabbed, and before I knew it, I was helping Connor Rhodes, the trauma attending, save his life."

Hank's expression softened. "That's impressive," he said. Then, after a beat, he asked, "How long have you known I was your father?"

The question made me pause. It was one I had never expected to ask, but now that it hung between us, I found I wanted to know. Hank's gaze darkened slightly, as if lost in the memory. "A week before the accident," he said quietly. "I saw you in the ER at Med. You looked just like your mother, down to the attitude."