Chicago PD: Hank Voight's Forbidden Love

CONSEQUENCES

It was a little after 11:00 p.m. when Voight finally got home.  The standoff at the South Shore Bank had lasted for several hours as the negotiators tried to talk down the offenders.  When the SWAT team finally breached the premises, two of the offenders were killed and the other two were apprehended.  The good news was that none of the hostages was injured.

Voight went through his mail which Elena had left out for him on the front table.  She was always thoughtful about bringing in the mail, which he much appreciated.  It was small gestures like that which endeared her to him even more.

He then walked into the kitchen and poured himself a shot of Bourbon which he needed to calm his frayed nerves.  It had been an especially difficult day, and he was exhausted. Now all he wanted to do was take a shower, climb into bed, and sleep for the next 12 hours. 

After he finished his drink and rinsed his glass he turned off all of the downstairs lights and trudged wearily upstairs.  He saw that Elena's door was closed, and as he always did when he came home late, he looked in on her.  He cracked the door just a little so as not to awaken her and peeked inside.  He could tell immediately that she wasn't in her bed because it was made up.

He flipped on the light switch, and sure enough the room was empty.  He thought it odd that her bed was made because she never did that. Never. That had been an issue between them when she first moved in until he finally gave up.  Neatness was not her strong suit.  She was probably in his bed, he thought with a smile on his face.  Yes, he was tired but never too tired for that.

He started to turn off the lights when he noticed the envelope.  He walked over to the bed, picked it up, and saw that it was addressed to him. His gut instincts immediately kicked in, and he knew this was not going to be good news, and more than likely she was not waiting for him in his bed.  He hesitated a moment before he ripped it open and began reading:

                 MY DEAR,  SWEET HANKERS, HANKY PANKY, HANKY POOH,
                 PLEASE FORGIVE ME, BUT
I REALLY HAVE TO GO TO LAKE
GENEVA THIS WEEKEND WITH MY
FRIENDS.  I KNOW YOU'RE ANGRY,
                BUT IT WILL BE OKAY. TRUST ME.
                 I WILL BE BACK MONDAY AFTERNOON
                 AND WE WILL  TALK THEN.
                             LOVE YOU MADLY,
                             YOUR KITTEN❤️❤️❤️🥰

He read the note again before crumpling it and then tossing it on the floor.  His emotional level went from zero to 1000 in mere seconds as his adrenaline began pumping like a trip hammer. He was outraged by her deliberate act of defiance after he had told her in no uncertain words that she could NOT go to Lake Geneva this weekend.  And then she had the gall to think she could placate him with terms of endearment? "Well," he thought, "his 'Kitten' had seriously underestimated her 'dear, sweet Hankers, Hanky Panky, Hanky Pooh." He rolled his eyes wondering how she came up with these ridiculous nicknames.

He angrily whipped out his cellphone and clicked on her number when he heard his ringtone that she had programmed for him on her phone — a police siren — coming from her nightstand drawer.  He walked over, yanked open the drawer and saw her phone inside.  She had obviously left it there to keep him from tracking her location, which infuriated him even more. 

He stood in the middle of the room rubbing his knuckles across his forehead as he tried to calm himself down and get his anger under control.  Elena was his joy, but she was also his agony.  She was his passion, but she was also his rage.  She had a calming effect on him, but sometimes she could make him so crazy.  This was one of those times.