Chapter Text
Casey slowly returned to his office, still a bit blindsided by Sylvie’s unexpected outburst. He picked up his pen, intending to finish the last of the end of shift reports before he headed out, but he couldn’t focus. They needed to be done though, so he determinedly pushed the puzzle that was Sylvie Brett out of his mind and dug deep to get the damn things done. Part of the job, after all.
Three minutes later he tossed the pen down with a sigh, rubbing his hands tiredly over his face.
Had he really been that out of line with Grainger?
Yes, and no, if he was being brutally honest with himself. The reprimand was still warranted, because he knew damn well that if Chief Boden had been on scene then the Lt. wouldn’t have tried to assert authority and take charge like he did. Especially as a fill in officer coming from another house. Grainger was the odd man out among the three units who had years of history working together, not to mention a reputation for being one of the best firehouses in the city. So the only reason he would try to jump in and take charge instead of standing back and getting a sense of how 51 worked was to incite a bit of a power play. Casey had been well within his rights to rebuke him for it, and knew perfectly well that if Grainger had tried that same move with just Engine and Squad there that Severide would’ve done the same thing.
Still, he could’ve been the bigger man and perhaps not have been quite so abrupt when Grainger came to him later to apologize, begrudging though it was. He had been out of character enough for both Stella and Sylvie to mention it, although Sylvie’s motivation had been decidedly more personal and had struck harder and closer to home.
And really, it was that part that still stuck in his craw; the unexpected accusation that he had been surly with Grainger not out of jealousy over Sylvie, but because he was somehow still caught up in his feelings for Dawson. Because everything came back to Gabby, apparently, even when she was two years gone. Well, two years and six months, if he counted the brief stayover in Chicago for her organization’s charity ball over the holidays.
Casey had honestly thought that things were starting to get back to some kind of normal after she had left the second time. He had gotten one last night with his second love (Hallie would always be his first), and he had walked away easily, leaving her sleeping the next morning. It had been a small thing, but it was enough to restore some of his mental and emotional equilibrium and confidence that he hadn’t even consciously realized that he had lost.
Gabby choosing to walk away and end their marriage had come closer to breaking him than anyone except maybe Severide truly knew. He had thrown himself into his job, staying late, arriving early, all so he didn’t have to go back to his apartment alone and try to fight off the encroaching doubts that had plagued him for months about his choices, actions, decisions. Had she walked away because she didn’t love him anymore? And was that his fault? He had wrangled with that question all the way up until that night in December.
As soon as their lips had touched in that ballroom, he had understood. Gabby still loved him; she just was no longer in love with him. Kissing her, being with her that night had felt more like old friends, coming together one last time before they went their separate ways.
It had felt like a farewell.
And for a while, Casey had truly believed that was exactly what it was. He had started to look forward again, and squarely in his line of sight was a certain irresistible, bubbly blonde paramedic.
Sylvie was like liquid sunshine; she practically glowed with her love of life, drawing others to her like a moth to a flame. She had been a balm to his senses, soothing comfort and unwavering confidence in him, even when he faltered and doubted.
But then she had kissed him, and everything had changed. She had changed, he realized suddenly. Something about that night and their conversation after had spooked her into pushing him away. The question, his answer, her resulting continued assumption that he was still in love with Gabby, his being jealous somehow connecting back to that – it was all an excuse, a shield so that she wouldn’t have face the real reason why she was running. In fact, she was acting the same way towards Casey that he had acted towards Grainger, which meant…
Sylvie was jealous.
Casey rolled the thought over in his mind as he considered her subtle behavior changes over the past weeks.
Not only was Sylvie potentially jealous, but incredibly so, on a level mirroring his own turbulent emotions if he was right, which his intuition was screaming that he was. She had been fine, he thought – up until she had literally ran into him and Sydney while they were talking out on the app floor. The pretty redhead had stopped by to return his shirt, and to bring the firehouse donuts. It had just been horrible timing that Sylvie had burst out of the side door instead of the main one, nearly knocking his shirt out of Sydney’s hands.
Casey had known the moment that Sylvie had noticed the shirt and recognized it for what it was – and the significance of the other woman having it. The rest of that encounter was a blur, mainly because he had deliberately blocked out the memory of his inane attempt to introduce the two women to each other as a distraction from the hurt and betrayed look that Sylvie had shot him before she and Mackey had loaded up.
He was lucky that Sydney was more perceptive and sweet and understanding than he deserved, and had gracefully yielded the field -so to speak – later that night. Casey hadn’t looked at another woman since then, determined to get things back on track with Sylvie, only to have Grainger appear into his life and path the next shift.
Which brought him full circle back to Sylvie and how to approach her next. They needed to talk, at some point – a really, honest, blunt and open conversation about their future, as friends or otherwise. But in order for them to have that conversation, Casey apparently needed some kind of tangible, symbolic proof that he was well and truly over Dawson, for Sylvie’s peace of mind at least.
His phone dinged with an alert, startling him out of his thoughts. It was a text from Severide, but it got him thinking about other messages that he hadn’t quite had the heart to delete.
Fine. Sylvie wanted proof, and he had a few things that he needed to say to her anyway.
Suddenly knowing exactly what he had to do, Casey breezed through the rest of the reports before gathering them up and dropping them off on Kylie’s desk with a post it noting the date and time they were turned in. No reason to get her in trouble because he had slacked off. Connie had trained him better than that; he could just hear and see the Look she would be giving him if he hadn’t owned up to his tardiness.
His duty finally complete, Casey wasted no time in grabbing his bag and heading home to shower and change before heading right back out. The slow building anger and frustration that had been building inside him since that morning welled up again as he strode into Sylvie’s apartment building. Taking a breath, he rapped sharply on her door.
“Sylvie? Open up,” he called, when there was no answer. “We need to talk.”
The door reluctantly swung open, revealing the blonde. She frowned at him.
“You, Sylvie Brett, have developed this sudden habit of talking -or yelling- at me and then running away without giving me a chance to respond or defend myself,” he said coolly. “After this morning’s outburst, I figure that you owe me equal opportunity to speak, at the very least, and since you’ve taken to hiding out here when you’re avoiding me, I came to you.”
He could tell that she really wanted to say no, but she begrudgingly stood aside, holding the door wider so that he could enter. He took five steps in and whirled around on her, his eyes and voice filled with frustrated hurt and a tinge of anger.
“Why are you so intent on making sure that I resolve whatever feelings that I may or may not have for Gabby?” he demanded. “How exactly is it any of your business anymore? Please, enlighten me, Sylvie, because after the past few days it is blatantly obvious that you have gotten over whatever feelings you may have had for me. So why is is so important to you that I do this?”
“You think that I no longer have feelings for you?” She said, incredulity filling her entire body and tone as she stared at him. “Matt-“
“You moved on to Grainger fast enough-“
“So what? You can just turn around and hook up with the first pretty woman who bats her eyes at you, but I can’t?” She retorted, her eyes narrowing. “You have no room to talk about fast turn arounds, Casey.”
Bingo.
He stopped to stare at her for a long moment, eyes narrowed as she confirmed his hunch. “You were jealous,” he said slowly. “That’s what this is about. You believed that I had moved on, so you tried to do the same thing with Grainger.”
She tried to muster up a defense, but he rolled right over anything she might have said.
“Didn’t work though, did it?” he continued. “And now, in addition to still being a bit jealous, you’re feeling guilty and frustrated, and taking it out on me, because the Sylvie Brett that I have gotten to know and care deeply about can’t just go out and hook up with a guy to avoid her feelings for another one. Not without regretting it. You don’t use people like that.”
“You did,” she retorted bitterly.
No amount of smash therapy could erase the memory of him and the redhead standing so close together, him smiling that bright, full Matt Casey smile that Sylvie hadn’t seen in nearly a month. So when the handsome Lt. from 40 had made a teasing comment to her during Mouch and Rutledge’s mini feud, she had responded, just like she had allowed herself to flirt with him later that night at Molly’s. And, although she would never admit it to anyone, it had been Casey’s noticeable absence at the bar the night of The Sydney Encounter that had pushed Sylvie to actually make the trek over to firehouse 40 to ask Grainger out.
“I’m a man, and therefore an idiot,” Casey countered wryly, softening his tone. “And it didn’t work for me either.” He shook his head as her eyes widened in surprise. “Luckily for me, Sydney was understanding, especially when she is the one who told me how obvious it is how I feel about you. Which means,” he added pointedly. “That my response to Grainger had nothing to do with Dawson, and everything do with you.” Letting that sink in, he took a measured step towards her. “Which brings us back to my original question, Sylvie: Why is it so important to you that I resolve my issues with Gabby – and what are you going to do about it when I do and you don’t have her as a roadblock to throw up between us anymore?”
She sucked in a sharp breath, though her tone remained steady. “I guess we’ll get to that if it happens,” she countered, trying to bluff. How had he seen through her bluster to her true motivations so easily?
The measuring look that he sent her was heated and considering. “Then let’s not waste any more time.” Pulling out his phone, he showed her the screen. “Gabby left this voicemail the the morning after she left town for the second time. I kept it, because you were partially right. I do still love her. Part of me always will. But I’m not in love with her, and haven’t been for a very long time. That night was about saying good bye, Sylvie. At least, it was for me.” He hit play, and Gabby’s warm, husky voice filled the space between them.
“So she did ask you.”
“And yet, here I am. Standing here with you.”
She drew in a slow breath, her heart racing. “Then why keep the voicemail?”
“Because it’s a safety line,” he said quietly. “Even the glimmer of possibilities is better than being completely alone with no one to look forward to.” His gaze never left hers as he deliberately moved his thumb over the screen, deleting the message and emptying the trashcan, before going into his contacts and doing the same to Gabby’s contact information. “There,” he said, pocketing his phone and moving until he was standing directly in front of Sylvie. “Now, if Gabby comes back to Chicago explicitly to ask me to go back with her, you only have yourself to blame if I do. Because that means that even after all of this, you still haven’t given me a reason to stay.”
While she was still absorbing the shock of that blunt revelation and challenge, he added another. “Grainger knew what he was getting into with you, but he doesn’t deserve to be a distraction or a roadblock from you deciding what you really want and being brave enough to go after it. And you were never walking in Gabby’s shadow, Sylvie. Not when she was here, or after she left. Personally, or professionally. As soon as you’re ready to step out into the sun once and for all in your own mind, you know where to find me.” He was out the door, closing it behind him before she could respond.