Tolerance Book IiI

Chapter One Hundred and Seventy-One: More Questions Than Answers

Chicago Med

Later that night Jay had been moved to a private room where two determined Uniformed Officers were posted outside the door. The requests for such duty had again flooded in to the Sergeant, further testament to their youngests' popularity. In the end Voight had chosen James Murphy, a fifty-six year old Afghanistan Veteran, and Johnny Lawson, a twenty'five year old whose youth belied his judgement and experience. Both men understood the gravity of their role.

Fully aware of his surroundings Jay looked at the concerned faces around him and tried for levity.

"Hey guys no one died. I'm fine and ....,"
"Kid just accept we're concerned about you," Al instructed in a rare show of emotion, "this will not happen again!"
"I can't live my life in bubble wrap ....,"
"No but we can be more vigilant," Antonio spoke for them all, each man felt guilty for the latest abduction.
"Right now let's just concentrate on what you remember," Voight finally spoke up from his position by the window, "it might give us a lead."
"That's not going to happen Sarge," the bedridden man eyed the blanket over him rather than his friends as he finally divulged with barely concealed anguish, "i don't remember how I was taken!"
"Hey man this isn't on you," Adam hastily reassured the upset man.
"Why not? No one else is to blame!"
"Just tell us what you do recall," Voight directed gently, now wasn't the time to have a discussion about where the blame truly lay.

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21st Precinct

Three days later Jay was enconsed in his temporary office in reception much to the chagrin of his friends. Platt had come through for her favourite Detective as crutches and stairs were not a good combination. As ever the young man had refused to stay in the hospital as soon as his strength had returned so Voight had, albeit reluctantly, taken him back to his house. The injured mans' desire to return to his own domicile had been quickly and roundly rebuffed. Knowing he had no hope of winning the argument Jay had accepted the return to his Sergeants' residence barely managing to conceal his frustration. He just wanted to be alone but that clearly wasn't going to happen anytime soon.

Upstairs Voight discussed the latest abduction with Al as they sat in his closed office.

"He didn't say it but he thinks this is linked to his Old Man."
"But the last abduction wasn't?" the Detective frowned, after all they figured the manner in which the three Abducters had been summarily dispatched after that abduction had all the hallmarks of Gambini.
"I haven't really discussed it with him yet," Voight sighed heavily.
"It's a mess," the moustached man as ever succinctly stated the obvious.
"One word for it!"
"It has to be mighty disconcerting for the Kid. He say anything?"
"What do you think?!" the Sergeant scoffed at the notion.

Out in the bullpen the men were trying to focus on work but their thoughts kept straying to their friend downstairs. Although Platt had assured them there would be someone on watch the whole time it did not sit well with any of them not having eyes on the recovering man. In fact in an effort to alleviate their concern the men had been taking turns going downstairs.

Downstairs Jay surveyed his temporary office ruefully. Mouse had wasted no time in setting up a computer for him and his desk was cluttered with his knick knacks from upstairs thanks to his friends. Platt had taken it upon herself to have a sign put up on the door outside staing 'Authorized Petsonnel Only' to avoid accidental Callers. The abrasive woman had also sent around an email stating in no uncertain terms that the offuce in question was no longer available for meeting members of the public until further notice. If Detectives or anyone else had a problem with talking to people eksewhere they wisely kept such considerations to themselves. The Desk Sergeant was not one to be crossed!