Chapter Text
Hank Voight didn’t expect a lot of things in his life. He never expected to be able to be married to such an amazing woman, Camille Voight. He never expected to have a son with her, naming him Justin. He never expected for him and Camille to experience the loss of Justin’s twin sister, who had been stillborn. And he never expected his life to further change in the middle of the state of pain.
It was a rainy night and it was also cold enough to start snowing. Hank was patrolling over a recently cleared crime scene, just to make sure everything was still clear. He saw a large box sitting on the steps of the now abandoned house. It wasn’t there from when it was cleared earlier. He stopped the car, cautiously stepping out. He had no idea what was in that box, for all he knew, it could’ve been a bomb. Keeping a hand on his gun, he approached the box, and then peered into it. His heart sunk and he felt a sharp pain in his chest. It was a sleeping child, dressed in a white onesie and wrapped in a tattered pink blanket. Fearing the worst, Hank put his finger to the baby’s neck, checking for a pulse. Right at his touch, the baby opened her eyes, looking straight at Voight.
“Hey,” he said in a quiet, raspy voice. He knew she was cold and probably would’ve frozen to death within the hour. He didn’t know how long she had been left there. The little baby curled her hands into fists and let out a cry. “Shh, shh.” He slowly picked her up out of the box. “I’ve got you now.” No one would come back for her; Hank knew that all too well. Wrapping the cold little one up in his jacket, he went back to his car. She cried a little bit, but not too much. “Don’t worry now.” He started to drive home, holding the child with one arm. Camille had wanted to name their baby girl Reagan. This little one would never be a replacement, and nothing could compare, but Hank thought that maybe, just maybe, this was a sign from the spirit of his stillborn daughter telling him that it was okay. The baby in his arms cried a little again. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. I’ve got you….Megan.”
Camille was the one who had all the questions that night. She wanted to know who Megan was, where she came from, if she was alright, the whole nine yards. Hank answered the best he could, which wasn’t entirely helpful. He knew, though, that Camille had already accepted her. They had already planned for two children, and even though they had lost one, they were open to take one in.
The couple did try to find any potential relatives, but they didn’t go further than a quick search from a DNA test. It was finalized just before she and Justin turned a year old that she was now the child of Camille and Hank Voight.
Justin and Megan were thirteen when Hank and Camille took in a foster child, Erin Lindsay. She was fifteen and in need of a better environment. It worked out for everyone. Justin and Megan both needed another person’s company and their parents were ready to give it.
Megan was growing into a very responsible person. She had black hair and hazel eyes. She was a good kid and everyone knew that. She stayed on track, with high hopes and expectations for her.
Back to things Hank Voight never expected, he never expected his family to grow so close. And he never expected it to be torn apart by Camille’s death from a chemo overdose. His kids had shut down; Justin voicing it, but Megan staying silent. There was a lot that had happened to the family.
“Hey,” Hank had once said to Megan, “she loved you. Don’t forget that, kiddo. Okay?” He hadn’t gotten a response from her; he probably never would to that statement. It was that day that Megan swore to make something of herself.
3 years later….
“CHICAGO PD, DROP YOUR WEAPON!” Meg shouted, keeping her gun drawn as she and Kim Burgess entered the warehouse. The two officers were in the middle of a major drug bust, with two other members of the intelligence unit going around the back. There were three perps in the room, two of which had guns on them. The perp without a gun and one of the two that had one both dropped to the ground in surrender. The third took off. Kim kicked the gun out of the one’s hand.
“I’ve got them here. Go get the other one,” she told Megan. Meg ran after the third perp, gun still drawn. She wasn’t too far from him. She could get to him.
“DROP YOUR WEAPON!” she shouted again. He was almost at the very back of the building. Halstead was supposed to be making his way there. There was a fence that didn’t have enough support for the dealer to climb, trapping him between the fence and Megan. “Drop it!” she demanded. They kept their guns pointed at each other, stuck in a deadlock. The perp turned a little, and Meg instantly knew that Halstead was coming up behind her.
“Drop the weapon!” Halstead barked out.
“Put it down and no one gets hurt,” the other officer insisted, keeping her aim steady. It was a tense few seconds, but the guy eventually put the gun down. Meg and Jay quickly put cuffs on him, and started heading back to the station.
“Twenty-one kilos per bag, four bags found,” Meg reported to Voight. “Not as much as we originally thought, but still a good amount.”
“Any money?”
“Taken care of.” Megan and Hank both knew what that meant, but it wasn’t something anyone else knew.
“You did a good job, kiddo, but next time, you bring that money in. You may know where it ends up going, but it goes through me. Got it?”
“Yep.”
“Good.” Hank motioned with his head that she could go. Things hadn’t been very easy for Megan since she had joined her father’s intelligence unit about four months ago. Hank treated her just as he did the other agents and detectives, but his team had been hesitant to accept her. She was still viewed as Voight’s kid, which made them cautious of her. They had no idea what she was like, or if they could fully trust her. The only ones who had made an effort were Kim and Erin. Erin for obvious reasons, but Kim was a welcoming and kind person, it was just her nature. Kim, though, was technically not in the Intel Unit, but had done many jobs with Megan. The boys were the ones who were hesitant. There was Jay Halstead, Adam Ruzek, Antonio Dawson and Kevin Atwater. There was also Hank’s best friend, Alvin Olinsky, who had known Meg since the day Hank brought her home. He trusted her as a person, but wasn’t fully sure of her being on the Intel Unit. She was unpredictable and had spent a year and a half in narcotics; they ran differently than the Intel Unit. Halstead was the one who showed the most distrust. He made it very clear that he didn’t particularly want to work with her. This pissed Megan off beyond belief, but it kept her working. She wanted to transfer back to narcotics. At least there, she felt decently welcome.
The young officer traveled downstairs to turn in her report and her transfer request to Sergeant Trudy Platt. Everything went through her first, or Hank.
“JV, what’s this?” She asked Meg, holding up the transfer request. Junior Voight. That had been Platt’s nickname for her since day one.
“I want to head back to narcotics. I don’t belong in the Intel Unit.”
“Where’s this coming from?”
“It may be my dad’s unit, but I don’t fit in with it, Sarge.”
“Give it time, kid.”
“Time’s all I’ve been giving it. It’s been four months with no change.”
“Look, I’m not turning this in. Platt handed the request back to Megan. “Talk to your dad about it.” Meg didn’t answer, but took the paper back anyway.
Megan still lived at home, but she and her father didn’t talk as much anymore. It was mainly just eating a light dinner together and then doing their own separate things. It was a restless night for both of them.
Meg left the house before Hank, as she normally did every morning. She was always at the station before everyone else. It gave her time to mentally prepare for the day ahead. She packed all her things into her locker, then closing it, sighing. The door to the locker room opened, causing Megan to look up. Halstead had walked in, going straight to his locker, which was diagonal to Meg’s. Both were quiet. Feeling the awkwardness, she moved to leave the room.
“Hey,” Halstead spoke, just as her hand reached the door. “Some of us are going out Friday night for dinner and drinks. Do you want to join us?”
“Really? I figured you all hated me.” Megan’s tone wasn’t forgiving.
“You really believe that?”
“Yes, I do. Just take a look at the past four months. I’ll be putting in my transfer request when I get the chance.” She exited the locker room, slamming the door behind her.
The day had been slow, mostly just working on reports. Megan was working at her desk, which was tucked back in the left corner of the room, right next to the stairs. It was the smallest desk out of all of them. Voight walked in, gaining no response from her. He walked over to the rickety desk.
“Hey,” he greeted.
“What do you want?” she asked in response, not looking up.
“Just a hey back.” Megan looked up for a second with a very sarcastic expression.
“Hey.” She looked back down to the papers in front of her.
“How you doing?”
“I’m fine.”
“I doubt that.”
“You doubt everything.”
“Oh really?”
“Mhm.” Hank stood at the desk for a few moments, knowing they had left so much unspoken that needed to be discussed. He walked back into his office. Megan knew that he found out about earlier. Halstead bounced in from the stairs.
“Sarge, we got another one related to the drug bust. We have a time and a location,” Jay announced. Voight exited his office.
“Alright, let’s suit up and go. Megan, you’re with this too.” She didn’t respond, but stood up and followed them.