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- May I have a word, captain? – Sylvie’s less then pleased voice echoes through the bunkroom early in the morning next shift, stopping him mid-way from his quarters. Casey knows her well enough to easily identify her mood, but today, anyone could have guessed really. Her tone of voice is aggressive, and she called him “captain”.
She’s pissed.
- Yeah – he turns around slowly, quite startled. Things have been rough between the two of them lately, but she wasn’t this mad. Even after Sydney showed up at 51 and Sylvie practically collapsed onto her returning his shirt, even then, all she did was ignore him. Call him stupid, but he is truly oblivious as to why she looks like she’s about to bite his head off.
- What the hell was that? – she asks, firmly.
- What are you talking about? – he asks back, furrowed brows. As genuine as his question is, it only seems to piss her off more.
- Grainger?! – she responds, speaking like it was a very obvious thing – The way you treated him from the moment he stepped foot on this house? The fact that you argued with him on a rescue scene, in front of colleagues, in front of victims?!
He feels both angry and hurt at her words. The mere mention of Grainger’s name is enough for his blood to boil, but her accusing him like that is only painful, not enraging. That is to say, it is very painful. The mixture of these two emotions plus all the other ones he’s been restraining the past few weeks causes his response to be more forward than he wanted it to.
- Grainger is a big boy, I’m sure he’ll be fine – he snorts, his expression a combination of annoyed, hurt and angry.
- Are you a big boy? – she fires back, fueled by his dismissive response – because Greg seemed to think that you were…
- I don’t care what “Greg” seemed to think – Casey interrupts her, raising his voice for the first time, nearly spitting the lieutenant’s name – I was doing my job. Leadership doesn’t always leave room for friendship, you know that – he states, almost accusingly.
- Oh, so that was all about the job huh? – she asks rhetorically, glaring at him.
- What is that supposed to mean? – he retorts, glaring back at her.
- You know very well what it means – she answers lowering her voice furiously.
- Clearly, I don’t! – Casey bursts, irritated.
- You moved on! – she explodes in a very harsh, accusing tone of voice – Very quickly for that matter! You have zero rights to be jealous!
- Move on? Are you talking about Sydney? Is that what you think that was, me moving on?
- Yeah, I distinctly remember jostling into her giving you back a t-shirt of yours, so yeah Casey, that’s exactly what I think.
He huffs and runs his hands over his face, wondering how the hell things got this complicated.
- And it was fine, because I was the one who told you to move on, and you did. I respected that. – she continues, voice still raised – I thought you would do the same for me, but then your little show had Grainger thinking there was still something going on between us, and now he’s gone.
- Maybe he was right! – Casey let’s his arms fall heavily on his side in a resigned gesture – and you’re saying Ipushed Grainger away, well guess what? Five seconds of interaction between you and me and I didn’t even have to explain myself when I backed out from Sydney later that day. She already knew why. So that makes us kind of even, don’t you think? – he shoots back, and it doesn’t go unnoticed that she’s a bit taken aback, since this is new information to her – that wasn’t me moving on, that was me trying to move on, and I can assure you, I failed! Big time! – he breaths for a second, trying not to raise his voice anymore - And Grainger stood up to me no problem, so the real reason why whatever you had didn’t work wasn’t my “little show”, it was probably you not being able to tell him what he wanted to hear. Isn’t that right?
The fact that that is indeed right does nothing but feeds Sylvie’s anger and frustration as she remembers Greg’s beautiful face looking so defeated at Molly’s last night when they talked it out. She hates that Casey’s right. She hates that they are in this place. She hates everything about all of this.
- I wouldn’t have had to tell him anything if you hadn’t been acting out! – she dodges his point.
- So, you would have what, just carried on with him, pretending to believe that whatever this is – he points between himself and her – is not here?
- No – she answers aggressively, pointing her index finger at him – you don’t get to be self-righteous with me. Especially when that is exactly what you did!
- Yes, I tried to move on, and I already told you, it didn’t work! If I’d realized that sooner, I would have never even called Sydney in the first place.
- I’m not talking about her; I’m talking about Gabby! – Sylvie snaps.
Casey stares at her, bewildered.
- What the hell does Gabby has to do with any of this?!
- She has everything to do with all of this! Your feelings for her were still there, and that didn’t stop you from “carrying on” with me – Sylvie chuckles ironically - I have been saying it was my fault, but you know what?! I’m so damn tired of that. I always blame myself for the things that don’t work on my life, and it only makes things worse. This – she points towards the empty space between them – This is on both of us, but mostly on you. What happened between me and Greg, now that is my fault. So yes, you were right. I couldn’t tell him what he wanted to hear. One, because it wouldn’t be true, and two, I know first-hand how it feels to let yourself fall in love with someone only to find out they are still in love with someone else. I know what it’s like to feel like you’re a placeholder, a consolation prize, a temporary fix for a heart that someone else broke – Sylvie speaks slowly, mostly because she’s desperately trying not to cry but also because she’s emphasizing every word - It hurts like hell. I couldn’t put him through that. As a matter of fact, I shouldn’t have gone after him in the first place.
As she stares at him with watery and angry eyes, Casey feels like someone stuck a knife on his heart and then twisted it around. Holy shit. That’s what Sylvie’s been feeling since he left her apartment that night?! Is that what she took from his stupid unassertive answer to her question? He realizes his own eyes are pooling as his vision gets a bit blurred. And for the first time since this whole mess started, he starts to understand what she meant when she said, “there is no regardless of Gabby”. She wasn’t talking about his history with her. She wasn’t asking him to forget Gabby. She was asking him if he was sure about her. She was asking him if she was any of those things she just said: placeholder, temporary fix, consolation prize. Jesus.
- How could you think I would ever do that to you? – the minute the question leaves his lips, he regrets asking it. In retrospect, the answer is quite obvious actually. And this isn’t about him anyway. He’s letting he’s frustration get the best of him.
- In case you forgot – she answers bitterly - you were laying over me with your mouth buried in my neck when I asked if you’d leave with her and you said you didn’t know. What the hell did you expect me to think of that?! – Sylvie answers, and her tone of voice stays low, because as she remembers how simultaneously perfect and mortifying that night was, she loses the battle against her tears, and one of them quietly rolls down her cheek.
- I’m sorry. – he says, his own voice breaking.
- Sorry isn’t going to fix this – she retorts, but her voice is a bit softer, looking and feeling as tired as he is.
- I’m not just talking about this. - he takes a few steps forward, entering her personal space, and is about to say something else when, as usual, the bells decide to go off right at that moment.
Casey mentally curses those stupid bells, and as he sighs in frustration, he lets his forehead fall onto hers, and to his surprise she doesn’t back off. He then cups her face with one of his hands, swiping away that tear, and once again to his surprise, she remains still, closing her eyes as the call and address are detailed, after which she pulls his hand off of her face, walking away without looking at him, muttering “I have to go”.
He misses the warmth of being so close to her the second she steps away. It’s a good thing he’s at the firehouse, because if he was home, one of Severide’s walls would get a fresh new hole. How could he have been so blind?! He has to fix this. He’s not sure how, but he’s got to fix this.
***
When shift is finally over, Sylvie is highly disappointed at herself for somehow letting Stella convince her to help out unloading some stuff at Molly’s before opening time. She would come to regret it even more as that would take over an hour to be done with. She loves helping Stella, but today had her physically and emotionally drained.
She had never had a fight with Matt before, although she’s not really sure if “fight” still applied to whatever it turned into at the end. Regardless, she didn’t like it. It was daunting and painful, and she hopes they’ll find a way to avoid things like that in the future.
After the call that interrupted them, she avoided him all shift. She wanted to talk and also apologize for some of the things that she said, or at least for the way she said them, but she simply couldn’t bring herself to find the energy to face him again just yet, so she kept busy with reports, supply runs, inventory and literally anything else she could use as an excuse to stay away from him. Thankfully, Matt didn’t push it either and stood back. Not that she was surprised. He is a gentleman. Sometimes even too much, if that’s possible.
That is also the very reason why she’s extremely surprised when she turns the corner of the hallway that leads to her apartment after giving Stella the hand she asked for and her eyes land on him sitting on the floor, across from her door, legs stretched out in front of him, looking a bit sleepy and… well, sad. Sylvie stops walking for a few seconds, and then slowly picks her pace back up.
- Casey? – she calls, confused.
- Hey – he says, frowning his forehead and quickly bringing himself up to stand – can I come in for a second? I really think we should talk.
Sylvie looks at him hesitantly.
- Not about the fight – he says, closing his eyes dismissively – I mean, we can talk about it if you want to, but that’s not why I’m here. At least, not entirely.
If Sylvie wasn’t still so nervous and cautious when it came to interacting with him, she would have grinned at his awkwardness. It reminds her of who they used to be, not that long ago. She misses those two.
- Sure, come on in – she says, opening the door.
She’s not particularly excited about having him back on her apartment, as that is literally living memory of thatnight, but he was waiting in the hallway floor for her, for God knows how long, so she didn’t feel like she could just kick him out.
- Do you want something to drink or… - she lets the sentence trails off. She really doesn’t know how to handle this right now.
- No, thank you, I just want to talk – he answers softly.
- Ok – Sylvie says, indicating the living room area.
- I’m sorry to keep you waiting, I was helping Stella and didn’t know you were coming over so…
- No-no, it’s fine, I just got here a few minutes before you.
And that’s how they find themselves on her couch again, although in very different and much less exciting circumstances.
Sylvie’s mind is running on pure adrenaline as she waits for Casey to say something. He seems nervous. He said it wasn’t exactly about the fight that he wanted to talk, so what could this be about? Something related to the job? Nah, that could have waited. Maybe something related to the fight? But what…
- Have you met the new chaplain? – Casey interrupts her thoughts, and it is literally the last thing she though he would say.
- Uh… no, I haven’t had the chance yet – she answers, completely lost as to where he is going with this.
- Well, I went to see him after shift. He’s a solid guy. Orlowski’s friend.
- Ok… - Sylvie’s not really sure what to do with that information.
- I talked to him about a lot of things. Me, you, Grainger, Gabby.
Oh boy! Sylvie can only imagine what that conversation was like.
- Anyway, I’m not a very religious man myself, but he read a verse to me today that caught my eye.
Casey reaches for his back pocket and pulls out a small piece of paper, unfolds it and hands it over to her.
Sylvie takes it as a cue to read it, so she does.
- “He performs wonders that cannot be fathomed, and miracles that cannot be counted. Job 5:9”
When she looks back up at Casey, his eyes are filled with tears. He looks at her deeply, and she mentally give thanks she is sitting down, because can feel her legs going weak under his stare.
- I used to think – he starts talking but his voice already breaks, so he needs to pause and pull it together before starting over – I used to think that miracles were special because they were rare.
Sylvie looks at him attentively, her heart speeding up involuntarily.
- But the truth is – he smiles as more tears pool his eyes – the truth is heaven is not stingy. Miracles happen all the time. They are special because of what they mean to the people who get them – he didn’t say it, but Sylvie’s almost 100% he’s echoing what the chaplain told him – and as it says in there, life is filled with miracles. Not just in the plural, but so many of them that we can’t count – Casey looks down for a moment, and a movie of every surreal call he ever responded to flashes through his mind, and he chuckles – I guess as a firefighter I should have figured that out much faster. We see horrible things on the job, but we also see many miracles.
Sylvie nods, and although she follows and much like him finds herself thinking of all the miracles she’s witnessed herself, she still doesn’t get what is the point of all of this.
- I also used to think – and this time, one of his eyes starts leaking – that each person only got one miracle per lifetime. Like a real miracle, you know? Everything else was just… luck, I guess. But that is not true either. Again, heaven is not stingy.
A sudden though invades Sylvie’s mind as she has the first vague idea of where he might be going with this, but she immediately shuts it off. That is way too high of an expectation, to think that he would say that she is… Nope, not even going there. Because there is no returning from there if she nurses that kind of hope and it turn out that’s not what he’s about to say.
- Many years ago, I told Gabby she was my miracle. You were there, you remember – he remarks awkwardly.
Oh yes, she remembers that alright. The thought that popped into her head just a few seconds ago comes back and she can feel her heart pounding inside her chest. No. There’s no way he’s going to… Stop daydreaming, Sylvie.
- And I meant that. She really was – he continues - She helped me navigate some of the worst moments of my life. Her, our relationship, it shaped part of who I am today, and I will always be grateful for that. So, when she left, I felt like that was it. Like I was solely dependent on luck now, and I’ve never really had the upper hand on that department – he chuckles again, and Sylvie can’t help a smile – but what I needed wasn’t luck. I just needed another miracle – an even bigger one.
Oh, pickles.
Is this really going where she though it was going? Is he really going to…
- And I didn’t think that was actually possible, until you happened, and I realized how much I underestimated heaven – Matt chuckles through his tears again, and Sylvie is not even going to try to hold hers back. She honestly can’t believe her ears. Did he really just say that? Is she really not dreaming? – Seriously, the chaplain had me pray and apologize for my lack of faith – he says, and they both chuckle again.
- My point is, Gabby was a big miracle, yes, like many others I had throughout my life, each uniquely special because of what they meant to me. But you are the biggest one. I’m sorry it took me so many complications to figure that out. And I’m deeply, deeply sorry I made you feel like anything less than that.
Sylvie barely lets him finish the sentence before practically lunging herself at him, capturing his lips with her. The kiss is both intense and gentle, hot and sweet. It is also interrupted faster than last time, but for a much better reason: Sylvie feels so overwhelmingly happy after everything that just happened that briefly after starting the kiss she collapses into him, wrapping her arms around his torso, tucking her head underneath his chin and against his chest. She feels Matt’s strong arms involve her immediately, and she continues to let her tears run down her face, creating a wet spot on his shirt. She’s not sobbing, but she’s right there in that neighborhood, letting out all of the emotions that had been piling up the last few weeks. Matt shifts his own head just enough to reach hers with his lips, pressing a few kisses on her temple with his eyes closed. He sniffs from time to time, which tell her he’s not doing much better either.
There’s more to be said, apologies to be verbalized, decisions to be made. But all of that can wait. Right now, tonight, they want to enjoy a feeling they hadn’t felt since the last time they were in each other’s arms: home. They are home.