Chapter Text
JOSIE
I heard them before I saw them, and what I heard almost had me stop right there before I rounded the truck that was angled on the apron instead of parked back in the apparatus bay. Part of me hated that I so easily used firehouse terms now.
“What the hell’s going on?” Matt asked, right as I did round the truck. Kelly was perched on the bumper, cigar in hand. Matt walked up to him, arms out. “You okay? ‘Cause if you’re not, maybe you need to take a—”
“You think I need your help?” Kelly snapped.
Oh no.
I stopped cold, not two feet from Kelly, but he was looking at Matt, hadn’t seen me yet.
Matt kept his eyes on him. I knew he saw me, but he didn’t acknowledge me. Not yet.
Instead he shook his head, looked down. Then looked back at Kelly. “I’m trying here, Severide.”
“Keep on.” Kelly said it fast, looked straight ahead. He took a pull off the cigar.
Matt caught my eye over him, and my chest seized.
I felt for him, I really did. I knew he’d been trying. I also knew Kelly hadn’t.
He stood there, hands on his hips now. A cool breeze ruffled his gray shirt.
Then it picked up — rougher, harder, whistling as it blew by. It sent a shiver down my spine, whipped the loose blond strands across my face. My bun’d come loose already, the long sleeve I wore today not thick enough. Not thick at all, just a thin piece of transparent navy cloth, the buttons at the top the only solid thing about it.
Finally Matt spoke, the tension so heavy I preferred the wind.
“I cleaned out Darden’s locker,” he said, voice low. “You should’ve vented the back.”
Oh great, not this again—
“We’re called the rescue squad, Casey,” Kelly snapped, turning on him again. “We don’t vent. You shouldn’t’ve put Andy through the window.”
Matt didn’t move. Didn’t say anything at first. He just watched a few dead leaves wrestling along the apron in the wind.
“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” Kelly went on, still watching Matt. “I sleep like a baby. You?”
Well now that just wasn’t true. At all.
But Matt didn’t answer him. He was watching the wrestling leaves, then looked inside, at whoever was milling around the other truck in the bay, and then just —
Turned and walked away.
Not a word. Not a look back.
I waited there, for a solid minute and a half, arms folded across my chest more as a barrier against the wind than anything else, my purse swinging against my hip, strap held tight across my body.
Then I took a step up to Kelly, close enough now he couldn’t ignore me. Close enough that every time he took a drag of the cigar the smoke blew my way and I caught the leathery scent. Didn’t mind it. Didn’t love it, either, but didn’t mind it.
He still didn’t look at me though.
“Sleep like a baby?” I asked, kept my voice low so it wouldn’t carry. “Really, Kelly?”
The cigar stopped halfway to his mouth. “You here to take his side too?”
“I’m not taking sides—”
“Sounds like it.”
“Goddamn it, Kelly,” I muttered, shaking my head.
He flicked the cigar, away from me, the ashes catching in the wind and floating some ways down before hitting the ground.
“Don’t.”
“I’m not,” I said fast. “But you can’t lie, Kelly. Not to me.”
“I’m fine,” he said, even quieter.
“Bullshit.”
“Josie—”
The wind picked up again, howling almost, flapping my purse against my hip and nearly knocking me off balance.
I caught myself on the truck but he caught me first — one hand quick on my waist, the warmth of his touch sending my heart racing a mile a minute, damn it.
He held it until the wind died down, then dropped his hand and looked at me.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.
“I don’t?” I almost laughed. “Please, enlighten me then.”
He looked away again, took another pull.
“You think I don’t know what’s going on here? You two arguing about whose fault it is because you think you have to blame someone?”
“Stop—”
“How many times does someone have to tell you two that it was nobody’s fault?”
“You weren’t there,” he snapped. No heads turned our way, but still.
I shut up. Refolded my arms across my chest. Watched him for a minute longer.
“I didn’t have to be to know what happened. And what didn’t happen, Kelly.”
He shook his head, wouldn’t look at me.
Fine.
I stepped around him, started towards the apparatus bay.
“Hey.” He caught my purse before I got too far away. “Key’s under the mat.”
I didn’t turn back. Waited for him to release me, stood there a second after he did.
Then kept going.
I pushed through the door. The smell of Matt’s corned beef hit me first. A very meaty, savory scent, the vegetables and potatoes doing their job to make my stomach grumble already.
But I passed through the common room fast, glanced once at the spread of food along the island counter, and hurried past the men crowded around the table with their own plates.
Because Matt wasn’t there. Which meant he was probably in his quarters.
“Hey!” Herrmann said from somewhere at the table.. “Look who showed…” His voice trailed off. “...up.”
Damn it.
I doubled back, found him in the sea of men, and gave him a quick smile and wave.
He nodded, grinned back on his face.
Good. That was settled.
I hurried the rest of the way to Matt’s quarters so I could avoid getting stopped again.
I saw him in there, at the desk, before I even reached his door. Elbow on the desk, head in his hand, pencil hovered over some report or something, but not moving.
My chest clenched.
I slowed, my steps quieting, until I reached his door. Knocked on it twice, then pushed it open.
He looked up.
“Hey—” He seemed surprised. Turned a little in his chair. “What’re you doing here?”
I stepped inside, closed his door behind me. “You…told me to come by. For dinner. Remember?”
“Right.” He nodded once, turned back to his work. “Food’s in the kitchen.”
“Matt.” Obviously. I knew that. He knew I knew that.
I waited, but he didn’t turn back.
“Matt,” I said again, took a step closer to him. Leaned against his desk.
He stopped pretending to write, stared at the piece of paper for a second, then, finally, looked up at me again.
He let out a breath.
Then swallowed, jaw tight, and stared past me for a minute.
Damn it, Kelly.
“I’m fine,” he finally said, voice hardly there.
I just looked at him. Folded my arms. Waited.
“What?”
I raised a brow. Waited some more.
When he didn’t budge, I gestured behind me. He knew what I meant.
He dropped the pencil, sat up straighter, and threw up his arms out.
“What? What, Josie? What do you want me to say?” He gestured at the door, looked past me again. “I’m trying but he’s—he’s impossible. He’s on a hot streak.” He threw his hands up, let them flop back down. “I don’t know what you want from me.”
I watched him another minute, relaxed my posture a bit. Then drew in a breath.
“You think…maybe…trying could include—I don’t know—not blaming him?”
“I’m not blaming him,” he said fast.
Right. That comment back there wasn’t him blaming Kelly.
He braced against the desk, then looked away.
“I made the call, alright? I know that.”
“Matt—”
“But he doesn’t get to just—” His voice picked up again, he gestured at the door again, then shook his head. “He doesn’t get to act like I threw him in there.”
There it was.
He turned back to his work, picked up his pencil, and started writing again. Softer than before. More…normal.
I let out a low breath, dropped my arms, and gripped the desk.
“You’re right,” I said, voice softer. He stopped, took a second, then looked at me. “And he’ll get there.”
He turned in the chair, rested his elbow on the back of it, and twirled the pencil in his hands.
“Eventually,” I added. Then shrugged. “Maybe.”
He watched me for a little bit, then let out a low breath. He looked down at the pencil still in his hands, twirled it again.
“But Matt,” I reached out, gripped his shoulder. He stopped twirling the pencil, then looked up at me, slow. “You gotta stop blaming him, too. He didn’t—” I shook my head. “He was just doing his job. He couldn’t’ve known what you guys were doing out front.”
He stared at me for a minute. Then nodded once, tight, and glanced down.
“Doesn’t mean he’s right,” he said, setting the pencil down.
Good Lord, these two—
“I know,” he added, lower, rougher, barely there.
I watched him for a minute, squeezed his shoulder once, then let go.
I looked out his window. Oranges and yellows sat bright against the blue sky, the trees swayed in the wind. A few leaves fell off branches when a hard gust hit.
Then I pushed off the desk.
“Your corned beef must’ve turned out good,” I said, stopping at his door. “Everyone seems to love it.”
He was still staring at his desk. At the pencil. Didn’t say anything at first.
Then he picked the pencil back up, rolled it between his hands again.
“Yeah,” he said, an almost-smile tugging there. “Herrmann’s on his second plate.”
“That tracks,” I laughed.
He turned in the chair, faced me again, and looked right at me.
“There’s some left. If Mouch didn’t get to it.”
I nodded.
“You eat yet?”
“Nope.” I pulled my strap tighter, repositioned my purse back against my hip the way I liked it. “Thought I was gonna get to eat with my brother, you know, since he invited me here, but…” I looked around, hands up.
Finally—finally—he laughed. Just a short one, low, but it was there.
“Sorry,” he said. He leaned back in the chair, watched the pencil in his hands as he rolled it back and forth. “Didn’t think I’d still be stuck on this.”
“It’s fine, I have work to do anyway—”
“Work?” He snapped. He sat forward in the chair, straightened up some. “What kind of case has you working on a Saturday, Josie?”
Seriously? We were on this again?
“A case that I would like to get paid for,” I said, flashed him a smirk. “Very soon.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
I had to consciously not roll my eyes.
He pushed the chair back, stood up, and crossed his arms. “What kind of case, Josie?”
Oh my—
“Seriously, Matt?” I just looked at him, hand on my hip, tried to keep it light.
“Yeah,” he said fast, one short nod. “Your last case put you in the hospital. You’re not doing that again.”
That I did roll my eyes at.
“You know I can’t tell you details of my cases—”
“Don’t—” He took a step closer, closing any space left between us.
I glared at him that time.
“Don’t give me that.” He looked right at me, face set hard, eyes wide. He was completely serious. “I’m not asking for your files, Josie. I’m asking what you’re walking into.”
“I’m just walking into work—”
“Last time you said that, I got a call you were in the ER.” His gaze didn’t waver, neither did his stance. “I’m not doing that again.”
I drew in a deep, slow breath. Let it out quiet.
“Identity fraud,” I said, forcing control. “Super riveting.”
“Don’t do that,” he snapped. “Not with me, Josie.”
Fine.
“It’s a normal case. No missing people. No secret psychological experiments, okay? Just your basic, average fraud investigation.”
He watched me for another minute, then finally let out a breath. Dropped his arms.
“Okay,” he said. Nodded once again. “Fine. But—” he pointed at me, eyes serious, “if this goes sideways, you tell me. Got it?”
“Aye aye, captain.”
I saluted him, turned towards the door, about to pull it open, when—
“Josie.” I stopped, turned to look at him. He nodded towards the hall. “Grab a plate. I’ll join you in a minute.”
I groaned. Long and loud and drawn out.
“Fine.” Why not? “But if you’re not out there in sixty seconds, I’m gone.”
He huffed a laugh, but turned back to his desk.
Down the hall, back in the common room, most the guys had filtered out already. The food was left out, still some scraps left. I wasn’t a huge meat fan, but I grabbed a small piece anyway. Loaded the rest with the potatoes and vegetables.
As soon as I sat down, Otis pounced.
“So, Josie,” he grinned, leaning on the table opposite me. “Chief Boden’s boxing in the drop-a-cop tonight. Whose your money on?”
I stopped my fork halfway to my mouth.
“I don’t know anything about boxing,” I said. “Or Chief Boden’s ability to.”
His face dropped.
“Seriously?” He shook his head. “You’re not even gonna wager on Boden?”
I swallowed my bite, thought about it.
“Is…the other guy good at boxing?”
He froze. Didn’t answer.
I shrugged. “There’s your answer.”
He stood up straight, shook his head.
“That’s not how this works,” he said. Then he pointed at me, both hands. “You don’t ask questions, you pick a side! And,” he flashed that grin again. “The correct side is Boden.”
“Yeah, you gotta go Boden,” Cruz said. He was digging in the fridge. “Guy’s built like a tank.”
“Boxing’s not about size,” Mouch said, eyes on the paper in his hand. He was relaxed on the couch, of course. “It’s about discipline.” He turned a page. “And patience.”
“Thought it was about being quick on your feet?” I asked.
“That, too,” Mouch agreed.
“Come on,” Otis dropped his hands, head tilted. “You’re seriously not betting? This is a morale thing!”
I laughed. “Not my house, not my problem.”
“Your house by association,” Matt said, sneaking up behind me. He sat down, no plate. Probably already ate. He grinned, then glanced up at Otis. “I’ll cover her bet. Boden.”
“What if the cop is better?”
He just looked at me. Dumbfounded.
“Alright, fine,” I said, hands up. “Boden.”
Otis stared Matt, then me, then Matt again.
“How do you do that?” he whispered, shaking his head at Matt.
Matt huffed a breath, almost grinning, eyes on Otis.
“I didn’t do anything,” he said, plain and simple. Then he glanced at me, grin fully there now, then back to Otis. “It was her call.”
Otis’s mouth dropped, hands back out again, gesturing at me.
“I’ve been trying to convince her for five minutes straight and you—” he pointed at Matt, “you come in her and have her on board in two seconds flat. Tell me how that works.”
Matt laughed, took a sip of his mug, and said something, but I didn’t catch it.
Kelly walked in, fast, head down, but he glanced over at Matt’s laugh and—
Stopped.
Not completely; his steps faltered, just a little. Almost like he tripped on the floor itself, but his eyes passed over Matt’s and went to me.
Quick, one sweep, that was it.
Then he picked the speed back up and was gone, down the hall somewhere.
My stomach twisted, my chest warm with nerves. Anxious, probably. Maybe more.
I twirled my fork in the food, then finished the last few bites. Got up, rinsed the dish.
“Thanks,” I said, coming back over to Matt. He stood, arm already out, already embracing me in a hug before I could protest in front of his crew.
I gave in, hugged him back.
“It wasn’t bad,” I shrugged.
“High praise coming from you,” he laughed. He squeezed my shoulder and pulled me in tighter for a second before letting go. “Be safe, Josie,” he said, tone grave again.
“Always am,” I sang, then left with a wave to all of them.
It was cool outside now. Getting dark. I walked up to my car, clicked the unlock button on my keys inside my purse, and then stood there, just staring inside.
I could go back to Matt’s—home. My home, he kept telling me that. Get some work done. Be productive, for real.
Or…I could go to Kelly’s. Wait for him, like I had been doing ever since the first night I stayed over and then stayed the whole next day.
Familiar, comfort, relaxation? Or nerve-inducing new-territory ground?