Help Me Heal

Chapter 4

Sitting in his office at the 21st that evening, Hank looked at a picture of the hooker who had been murdered by Volcan Baranov. Now she didn't look so much like Anna Avalos. There were similarities, sure, but not enough for him to react the way he had in that bedroom. Not enough to start seeing Anna in her place. Not enough to freeze up on a crime scene. He had never done that before in his career, not once. And he knew he could never do it again.

Interrupting his thoughts, Kim walked into the office and closed the door, making him look up. Most of the team had already gone home at the end of the shift, he knew.

"Something on your mind?" he asked, well aware of what it was going to be.

"I need to talk to you, Sarge. I'm worried about you. We all are. Someone needed to say something, so, well, here I am."

Hank knew better than to go on the defensive. His team had every right to call him out for freezing up. In different circumstances, it could have been dangerous.

"I'll address the team tomorrow, Kim. Thank you for taking on the responsibility of coming in here."

"Sarge," she objected thinking she was being blown off.

For Hank, the fact that it was Kim who had been the one to step forward was important. It helped him with something else he had been thinking about. "Listen carefully as I say it again. Take in exactly what I'm saying to you. I'll address the team tomorrow. Thank you for taking on the responsibility of coming in here."

"Okay," Kim said uncertainly. She didn't understand what was wrong with him, or what he was talking about. But she had enough respect for him to leave it there for now. "Goodnight. See you in the morning."

"Night," Hank said simply. As Kim left, he knew what was on her mind. She thought he needed to talk to someone, professionally. That wasn't his style though. He didn't seek comfort in a therapist's office. He sought it in a bar.

With that in mind, he got up a few minutes later and left the office. In the bullpen, he found only Kalinda still at her desk. She was still working, probably kicking a hole in the mountain of paperwork that an officer-involved shooting required, even one that had already officially been declared good. Statements from Hank, Kevin and Dante, who had all witnessed her drop Baranov, had been enough to see to that.

"Bit late for paperwork. Go home," he suggested, approaching her desk. Jay's old desk.

"Don't feel much like going home. It's not even home, it's a pokey guest bedroom at my friend's place. Know any good bars around here? I think this first day calls for tequila."

"Can't vouch for the tequila, but I know a place where the whisky is good." Hank wasn't sure why, but without saying as much he had just agreed to go for drinks with his new team member. Part of him didn't want company. But there was a part that did. Specifically, as he stood there looking at her, that part wanted Kalinda's company. Someone closer to his age than the rest of the team, albeit still ten years younger than him. Someone who had experienced some pain in her life, meaning she might be able to relate to him.

"Then let's try there," she said, getting up. "You don't have to do join me, Hank. I'm sure you've got..."

"I could use the company," he cut in. There, he had said it. She took it in her stride, and smiled at him.

"Alright then. Give me a minute and we'll get out of here."

-----

Fifteen minutes later, Hank and Kalinda sat at the bar in a place he frequented on a semi-regular basis. There was nothing special about the bar, but it wasn't a dive either. Kalinda didn't seem to mind it. She had insisted on ordering the first round; tequila for her and whisky for him.