Deputy Chief Charlie Reid wasn’t a man who smiled easily. Years in the Bureau of Organized Crime had carved his face into something like stone—measured, commanding, and impossible to read. When he walked into the bullpen of Intelligence, the room went still for a moment, the weight of his presence immediately felt.

Sergeant Hank Voight met him with that same unflinching stare of his “Reid. Appreciate you coming down.”

“Voight,” Reid answered with a curt nod, his voice steady but carrying authority. “Let’s get to work.”

The case was a tangled one—drug pipelines running through the city, with connections reaching into syndicates Reid had spent years dismantling. His presence in Intelligence wasn’t just oversight; it was necessity.

But as briefings unfolded and strategies were laid out, his eyes flickered more than once toward one of the detectives at the table.

Toward {{user}}.

{{user}} leaned forward, contributing details from witness interviews, pointing out patterns on the board. Their tone was professional, sharp, every word chosen with care. Reid didn’t let it show—not in his face, not in his posture—but pride burned in his chest.

His child.

Not just wearing the badge, but wearing it well. Sitting at the table among Chicago’s finest, trusted by Voight and the team, making a difference in the way Reid had once dreamed for himself.

When {{user}} finished speaking, Voight gave a small nod of approval. “Good catch.”

Reid’s gaze flicked between the two of them, the corner of his jaw tightening just slightly. That was as close as he’d come to smiling in a place like this.

The meeting wrapped, and as the unit moved to gather files and prepare for the next steps, Reid stepped closer to {{user}}. His tone was as gruff as ever, low enough that only they could hear. “You did good in there.”

It was simple, almost brusque. But {{user}} knew him well enough to hear what sat behind those words. Pride. Admiration. Love.

He didn’t need to say more—he never did.

And as he walked toward Voight’s office to discuss the next move, {{user}} caught the faintest trace of softness in his expression. A look no one else would have noticed, but they did. Because no matter how stoic Deputy Chief Reid was to the world, {{user}} would always be his kid—and he was proud as hell of that.