Requested by NewYorkChicago1944
How do you bury your own kid? How do you plan their funeral and then lay them to rest forever? It seems an impossible task, an unbearable one, but it was one Hank Voight was left with no choice but to do.
He wouldn't even remember the funeral. He stood by the casket with Erin and Olive, who bawled the entire time as she held her son.
The entire Intelligence Unit came, along with some other officers and friends from Med and Firehouse 51. Erin cried when Jay hugged her and Olive cried continuously, but Hank held strong. He willed himself not to cry. It didn't feel right to him.
After the service, they went to the cemetery. Hank watched as his son was lowered into the ground and buried, sticking around long after everyone else had left.
Once he was completely alone, he kneeled by the freshly engraved headstone and ran his fingers across his son's name.
"I'm sorry. I should've protected you, I'm your dad, it was my job. I'm so sorry, Justin. I love you." Hank said as a lump formed in his throat. He fought the tears, but let them win as he let the realization sink in; his son was gone and would never return.
He'd never watch him continue to be a father, never watch him deal with a teenage son of his own, never see him get older and become an old man, and he'd never talk with him again.
Then he bawled, all his sadness and agony releasing on the grave. He didn't even hear Alvin approach him later, as it was raining. He didn't even know it had started raining.
"Hank, come on. Let's go home." Al had told him, kneeling beside his long-time friend.
"He's gone, Al." Hank made out through sobs. "Whoever did this is going to pay."
"Well, let's go make him pay. Come on, let's start investigating this case."
Hank nodded and looked at Al. "Thanks."
