The strippers at the strip club didn't help, that was for sure. Leslie still felt as depressed as she did before she arrived with Severide. Although the girls had been hot- big, flushed brunettes wearing nothing but thongs and bras that barely covered their large boobs- it didn't distract the blonde at all. It still couldn't make her forget about her.
Clarice.
Shay swallowed back another sob that had crept its way into her throat at the thought of the woman she'd been with for a huge chunk of her life; three years, to be exact.
Three. Years. And now, those years were gone; a mere flash of memories in her mind. She'd given three years of her life for the woman.
The thought made her angry. She'd given up everything for the other woman, and all Clarice had done in return was, as Dawson usually stated it, "broke her into a million pieces." She smashed her heart, stomped on it, and left her broken.
And here the blonde was a few years later, still fighting back tears at the thought of the woman who left her.
What frustrated her the most, though, was that Clarice was married to a man now; it changed Shay's whole perspective on what she thought had been something real. But now she couldn't held wondering: Had Clarice only been questioning herself at the time; testing the waters?
Had Shay been nothing more than an experiment to her?
No, she argued with herself, shaking her head as she grabbed her car keys out of her purse and sat in her car, turning on the car engine. She sat still for a few moments before shaking herself and began driving away from Severide and the strip club.
She stayed with me for years. That's gotta mean something, right?
Shay shivered from the sudden cold she felt, and cranked up the heater. She didn't want to think about her now, or ever. She was driving aimlessly. She didn't know where she was driving to; she just needed some peace of mind and some space to sort out her conflicting thoughts.
Which was why she was so confused when she found herself parked in front of Dawson's apartment building a few minutes later.
And when Dawson opened the door and noticed the distressed look on the blonde's face with tears on her cheeks, it was like deja vu.
Shay watched in despair as Clarice pulled out a second suitcase from the closet in their- her, the blonde reminded herself grimly- bedroom. She just sat there, not saying anything, not moving, just watching the other woman hurriedly pack her things up. Silent tears were streaming down their faces, both of them refusing to stare directly at each other or, at least, acknowledge the other.
Clarice had everything packed in her car when Shay broke first, whispering that she didn't want her to go.
"I'm sorry," the brunette murmured, though she looked anything but. "I have to do this."
"You can't leave me," Shay suddenly raised her voice, desperately.
"Les..." Clarice began, but trailed off, instead just reaching out to touch Shay's arm as a gesture of comfort.
"Don't call me that," the blonde choked out, stepping back.
Clarice sighed in acceptance, not even trying to persuade the other woman to listen to her. Instead, she just strode toward her, and pecked her on the cheek.
"Good-bye, Leslie," she whispered.
And then she was gone, leaving the young woman standing there in the dust.
The next thing she remembered was standing in front of her best friend's apartment, feeling dazed. The drive there had been a blur of tears and heartache.
Dawson opened the door, immediately ushering the blonde inside when she saw her face and trembling body.
Shay slept there with Dawson that night. They both lay on the brunette's bed, Dawson wrapping her arms around her and snuggling close to her while she cried in her chest. Dawson could feel the tears leaving their marks on her shirt, but she didn't care.
"She left," Shay kept stuttering out, sniffling into the cotton of Dawson's shirt.
"She doesn't know what a big mistake she made," the other woman whispered, clinging closer. She began running a hand through her soft, blonde hair, and felt the blonde instantly relax.
Shay was going through life, not feeling anything, really. It scared Dawson to see how empty and soulless her piercing, brown eyes had become. Shay had practically moved in since the first day she came over, but hadn't talked much even when Dawson offered to lend an ear, instead just staring into space and sipping her coffee.
"I don't want to be alone," she'd said the next day as an explanation as to why she came through the apartment dragging bags of clothes and her other possessions with her.
"Leslie-"
"Please?" Shay begged, desperately. "I can't...can't be in there anymore. She's...she's everywhere."
That was all it took for Dawson to readily accept their current living arrangement. But since that moment, Shay had shut down, barely acknowledging Dawson's presence unless she was spoken to, and even then it was like she wasn't all the way there.
She began sleeping later hours, barely getting up at early hours of the day, and even when the brunette tried to cook the blonde food- she knew how much she enjoyed her cooking- the other woman scarcely ate. She picked at her food, only eating little bits at a time.
Dawson was getting worried when nothing changed in two weeks. This woman was not the same Shay she knew, and that scared her.
Dawson came home one day to see Shay sitting alone on the couch, a bottle of scotch in one hand.
"Les?"
Shay's glazed eyes slowly made their way up to hers. She didn't say anything, just smirked and took a swig of her drink, swiping her arm across her upper lip. Dawson set down her bag and gently tried to pry the bottle out of the blonde's grip. But the hold on the glass only tightened.
"Nooo," she drawled.
"C'mon, Leslie," Dawson said gently, looking close to tears. She'd never seen her best friend in such a sad state.
Shay shook her head. "No," she repeated, more firmly.
But Dawson managed to snatch the bottle away, and put it at a safe distance away from the distraught blonde. In her drunken state, Shay's eyes watered over, and she hung her head, looking guilty. Dawson sat next to her and squeezed her, hard, letting her know she wasn't going anywhere.
"Leslie," Dawson said now, looking sympathetic. "What're you-"
"I can't stop wondering about her," Shay said, and saw recognition on the other woman's face. "Can I come in?" she added, noticing she was still outside. The brunette's brow furrowed in confusion, but she nodded.
"Clarice-"
"Shay, I told you-" Dawson began, as soon as they were sitting down.
"It's just... it's just the idea that she's with a man, Dawson. It makes me question...everything."
"Don't think about her," Dawson whispered, and Shay looked up, noticing a strange glint that flashed in the brunette's eyes for a second.
What was up with that?
"You're an amazing woman," the woman continued, not seemingly paying attention to what she was saying. "She made a huge mistake, Shay. She didn't realize how lucky she was to have had you in that way."
Shay smiled softly. "I'm okay," she whispered. "I'm not going back down that road, I promise."
"Okay, good," Dawson breathed out, looking more than relieved.
Shay kept her smile at that, and sat next to her on the couch, resting her head on her shoulder. They sat there in silence for a good few minutes, lost in thought, and were just...content. She couldn't stop thinking about how Dawson had still been there for her through it all; how patient and caring and understanding she'd been. How comforting laying in her arms had been, how the smell of her shampoo had become so familiar and so comforting.
"I don't think I ever thanked you," Shay said, suddenly.
Dawson scrunched her nose, and the blonde felt a sudden rush of electricity shoot through her at the sight.
She's so adorable, she thought. "Y'know...for...being there for me when I needed a friend."
Dawson grinned, and leaned forward kissing the blonde on the cheek.
Another jolt shot through her body, and Shay couldn't help looking at Dawson in a way she'd never seen her before, the scent of her shampoo suddenly overtaking every other scent, and the feeling of her hand in hers was suddenly the only thing she could feel.
