A/N: Hellooo. So, I'm glad y'all seemed to like the last chapter, I was super anxious about it. I also took the last weeks to structure the rest of the fic and have a general plan as to how I want to end it. It'll take at least another ten chapters, I'd say, so we have that to look forward to.

Anyway, I can't say how frequently I'll update from now on but I'll try to get back to a somewhat weekly update schedule. No promises, but maybe it'll work out.

-Dana

Chapter 17: People don't change

(Erin's POV)

District 21. Staring at the double doors of the place she called her second home, Erin seriously wondered whether she'd feel anything other than dread and anxiety ever again. It was crazy early on a Wednesday morning and she could think of a million places she'd rather be right now. Like with Jay in the hospital. Or in the middle of the Atlantic ocean. Anywhere but here.

A large hand was placed on her shoulder and she looked up into the eyes of Hank Voight. He gave her a brief nod, squeezed her shoulder reassuringly, and then strode ahead to the doors without looking back. Before she could change her mind, Erin suppressed a groan and reluctantly willed her legs to follow him. It was such a surreal day already and it had barely even started. See, she had yet to enter that building for the first time since the day she quit. Her conversation with Hank last night had drained the both of them so much that in the end, they'd settled on just grabbing dinner together and calling it a day. Paperwork could wait.

As Erin climbed the few steps to the entrance and caught up with Hank, she couldn't help but think back to the events of the past 48 hours. It was insane. She wondered how Jay was holding up today. She didn't know yet if she'd be able to visit him at all at some point today but she sure hoped she'd get the opportunity. Granted, given the game plan she and Hank had figured out last night, she wasn't sure what her day would look like.

"So...what now?" Erin asked once she was sitting inside a Domino's in front of a way too large pepperoni pizza for her small appetite. Opposite her in the booth, Hank was studying her intensely and it made her a little nervous, to be honest. She could feel him observing and analyzing her every move and it was deeply unsettling to be watched so closely. He'd done it all night and she was starting to worry she'd snap at him at some point. She glanced at the pizza he'd ordered as he took his sweet time with a response. Neither had touched their food yet.

"I, um, talked to a doc from Med a few weeks back, asked him what I should do," he started and Erin quickly picked up a slice of her pizza as her nerves instantly kicked in, already dreading where this was going. "Said he'd recommend a clinic."

Her eyes widened a bit as his words sank in, the pizza in her hand quickly sinking again before she could even take a bite. That was truly not how she'd expected that sentence to end.

"No," she breathed and met his eyes. "No, anything but that. I can't-"

"Erin, relax," he quickly interrupted, holding up his hands. "I don't think rehab is the way to go this time."

This time. Those words stung. They'd been here a number of times before and both of them were highly aware of it. And yet it was entirely different. Worse, in a way. She'd crossed many uncrossable lines this time around.

"I was thinking," Hank continued, "you know, how about you keep me company for a little while? I can be some kind of a sober companion."

Erin wasn't sure that's how that worked but she realized she had little to argue against that idea. She'd certainly take that arrangement over staying at some rehab facility and do their program. Been there, done that. Once again, addiction - whether that was truly something she was dealing with or not - was the least of her worries these days. And if she was being truly honest with herself, she was also a bit relieved that she wouldn't have to go back to her apartment all by herself just yet.

"That...doesn't sound too bad," she admitted. He nodded, took a drink from his cup and she knew there was more to it than her just staying over at his place for a while.

"The only catch is that I obviously can't provide the professional help you clearly need," he declared solemnly, leaving absolutely no room for discussion. "For this to work, you're gonna have to see a therapist."

Erin didn't know how to respond so she opted for taking a small bite of her pizza instead. Hank apparently took her silence as a sign to continue.

"There's no shame in talking to someone, Erin," he added. "But either way, these are my conditions. You live with me, you see a professional to get you back on your feet, and then we'll see about Intelligence."

They both refocused on their food, an intense silence hanging in the air around them. Deep down, Erin thought he was absolutely right and that this was a solid plan. The rational part of her brain could see that it made sense. There was something deeply wrong with her and she clearly wasn't able to fix it herself. She also knew Hank or Jay couldn't fix it for her. So maybe a shrink wasn't the worst of ideas. Terrifying to think about actually talking to someone, but she'd promised to try. Still, would chatting about her feelings - assuming she'd even get around to opening up to a stranger - truly fix her for good? Doubts filled her head and before she could stop herself, she voiced some of them.

"People don't change, you know?" He looked up from his meal and studied her expression as she spoke. She averted her eyes and added,"So what makes you think I can?"

He had the audacity to smile at that.

"'Cause you did change," he told her sincerely. "Your past doesn't define you, Erin. You're so much more than the girl I once saw barely surviving on the streets of this city."

Deeply regretting having brought up this topic at all, Erin took a sip of water and continued to munch on her dinner. She still wasn't all that hungry but she also knew Hank wouldn't shut up about it if she didn't eat something. She could feel his gaze on her once again.

"You don't believe me."

It wasn't a question. Erin didn't know how to respond and simply shrugged her shoulders, feeling like a child. Hank scratched his chin, clearly frustrated, and leaned on the table, closer to Erin.

"I...I've been measuring certain things by considering how Camille would feel about them," he mumbled as if semi-uncomfortable in sharing this with her. But he pressed on. "And if there's one thing I know for sure it's that she'd be so proud of how far you've come. A few mistakes and a rough couple of months won't change that."

Yes, Hank had actually managed to find the one thing she needed to hear. The rest of night had been a bit of a blur, dominated by embarrassment and shame, but that sentiment had stuck with her until this very moment. Things between her and Hank were far from perfect, but his words meant the world to her. Still deeply in thought, she followed him into the building on auto-pilot. It was only once she was face to face with Sergeant Platt that she snapped out of her trance.

"Hey, Sarge," is all Erin could think of saying. The intense gaze of that woman had her crawling in her skin. She'd tried to cover the bruises on her face to the best of her abilities this morning, but she knew they were still quite visible. But that wasn't the only thing making her uncomfortable about this encounter. Erin also remembered all too well how their last interactions had gone. How rude she's been. She looked around for Hank but found he was talking to someone on the phone a few feet away.

"How are you holding up, Detective?" Platt inquired with a strange tone in her voice. Erin couldn't place it but also wasn't sure if she was overanalyzing everything at this point. It was hard to tell.

Once she was done considering what that tone could have meant, Erin realized that this was actually a legitimate question about her well-being that required some sort of reply. Feeling like an idiot, Erin opened and closed her mouth a few times but no sound came out. She absolutely loathed how awkward she was. It wasn't like her at all. How wonderfully inconvenient to resemble a fish out of the water at a simple question like that. Where was the usual "I'm fine" she was so desperately looking for?

Without warning, Hanks rough hand curled around her shoulder once again and gently urged her to follow him up the stairs. He shot a smile Platt's way and mumbled, "Trudy."

But Platt was already busy answering a phone call behind her desk. It seemed like a busy day in general around here. Lots of people in the lobby, Erin noticed. It felt strange not to know exactly what was going on.

As Hank buzzed them both upstairs, Erin felt dread wash over her once again. Facing the team wasn't something she was particularly looking forward to, even though she'd technically seen them at the hospital before. But before she could think about it too much, her and Hank were already on their way to the bullpen. As they were walking, Hank cleared his throat and slowed their pace for a moment.

"I just talked to someone from Med," he announced in a rather quiet voice. "Looks like you're good to go for your first session with Dr. Thorne today. I've heard great things about her."

It took a second or two for his words to register and once they did, Erin's heart dropped all the way to the floor as she processed the information he'd just given her. She had her first therapy session...today? But before she could further think about that, they'd reached the bullpen and she found five pairs of eyes on her in an instant and she swallowed hard. She felt Hank next to her tense up a bit as he engaged in a staring match with Commander Fischer, who had dropped the fake smile he'd reserved for Atwater as soon as he'd spotted the two of them coming up the stairs. Today was not going to be a good day.