Crossroads in Chicago - a Chicago PD FanFic

Chapter 54: 300,000 Likes

A few months later...

Summer has come and gone, leaving behind the golden tones of autumn. The precinct feels calmer now, a semblance of normalcy returning after months of whispered suspicions and unspoken truths. For a while, Commander Crowley had circled like a hawk, digging and probing to find out what happened to Kevin Bingham. Everyone knew she was out to pin his disappearance on Voight. But without a body, there was no case. Crowley's search eventually fizzled, leaving behind an air of uncertainty—like a storm that passed without breaking.

Voight, Lindsay, and Olinsky had moved like ghosts for weeks afterward, their silences deafening, their shifts tight and deliberate. But gradually, things started to fall back into rhythm. Now, at least on the surface, it seems like we're back to where we were—focused, functional, and avoiding the cracks that still exist beneath.

At home, my life has become a new kind of busy. Eva and Diego practically live with us now. Laura is... well, Laura. She's found a new boyfriend and spends most of her time with him, disappearing for days on end. And while it frustrates Antonio, I don't complain. I love having them with us.

Eva and I have carved out our own little rituals—girls' nights full of ice cream, movies, and chatter about friends and school drama. She's growing up so fast, her confidence blooming in ways that make me both proud and wistful. Diego, on the other hand, is a mix of wild energy and determination. Soccer practice dominates our weekends, and I've lost count of the number of times I've cheered him on from the sidelines, my voice hoarse but happy.

The house feels full—warm and alive—despite the lingering ache of what Antonio and I don't yet have. Our own child.

It's a topic we've talked about often, sometimes in soft, hopeful voices and sometimes with tears. We even considered starting IVF a few months ago, but life feels like it's bursting at the seams right now. Between our work, our schedules and the kids we already have, it just felt like too much. So for now, we've decided to wait. I tell myself that we're enough as we are—that our home is full, our hearts are full. But every now and then, when I'm tucking Diego into bed or brushing Eva's hair, I feel it. That quiet pang of longing.

The kids have a nanny now, which was a tough decision for us to make, but it became too much to lean on my mom. She was finally diagnosed with early-onset dementia has progressed faster than any of us expected. There are good days—days when she's sharp and full of stories, the kind of mom I've always known. But the bad days... the bad days are really, really bad. Days when she doesn't know my name. Days when she asks about my father like he's just stepped out for groceries, as if he hasn't been gone for years.

It's heartbreaking.

Tessa has moved back in with her, helping Pat manage things, because Jesse and I can't be there as much as we want to. My schedule doesn't allow it, and the guilt weighs on me like a boulder. Every spare moment I have, I spend with her. I bring Lucas, Eva, and Diego with me, hoping that their laughter and energy will remind her of the life we've all built. Family is everything, and I'm holding onto that harder than ever now, trying to balance it all out.

I find moments to breathe in the chaos. Sometimes it's in the quiet mornings before the kids wake up, when Antonio and I share coffee in the kitchen, leaning against the counter and watching the sun rise through the window. Other times, it's in the car as I drive Eva to dance or Diego to soccer, their chatter filling the silence, grounding me in the here and now.

It's not perfect. It's not easy. But it's ours, and I'll protect it with everything I have.

The precinct is the one place where I feel like I have control. Cases, paperwork, busts—there's a system to everything, a rhythm I can count on. But life at home is where the real work happens—balancing it all, giving my heart to everyone who needs me, and still finding enough left for myself.