A/N: I do not own Chicago Fire…I only own my original characters and story lines.
In this fic, Mills still works at the house, Brett works there, and Dawson is still a paramedic. Any other changes will be indicated.
Thanks for reading and enjoy!
Kelly Severide was glad he had moved into his new place. He missed Shay fiercely but, two years after her death, he could finally say that he was moving on. It had taken a while, but he could finally have a day where he didn't feel as though he was going to break down and cry. Or punch something. He had been in the new apartment for about two months and he grew to like it more and more every day.
On this particular day, however, he liked the view of the front of the apartment complex. He could always see what was happening. Tonight, he noticed a moving van pulled up to the sidewalk.
He figured he should go out and offer his assistance, so he pulled on his boots and grabbed his keys, locking up his apartment. When he got to the front of the building he saw a woman in a leather jacket, biker boots, and skin tight jeans talking with the man in charge of the moving truck. Her dark, curly hair was pulled up in a bun on the top of her head, little ringlets trying to escape from the hair tie.
"Just give me two minutes to change, and then I will start taking the stuff up," she countered, the guy rolling his eyes.
"Look, lady, I was here yesterday and got most of it moved in. You have like three boxes left. Can you just set them on the sidewalk…I won't even charge you."
"Well since you offered," the woman shrugged, starting to walk to the back of the truck. Kelly laughed to himself, knowing that this woman had definitely conned her way into not having to pay for the quick visit from the moving truck. Kelly watched as she opened the truck, loading three tubs onto the side walk.
"Thank you SO much for coming back today," the woman smiled, finally turning around so Kelly could see her face. She had dark olive skin and deep brown eyes, the kind that made it hard to find a pupil and looked like they went on forever.
"Not a problem. Next time you move, though, don't call me," the guy sighed, climbing into his truck. The woman laughed, shaking her head. The woman started to life all three of the tubs in her arms, Kelly going over to take one of them from her.
"Let me help you with that," Kelly offered, the woman leaning around the boxes and raising her eyebrows at him.
"I've got it pretty boy. Thanks for offering but if I needed help I woulda asked," she smiled, chuckling at the surprised look that adorned Kelly's face.
"Right. Sorry," Kelly said, not knowing what else to say. Most woman would have been happy for the help. The woman walked past him, using her hip to bump the handicap button for the door, walking through the opening and taking the stairs two at a time as she headed up to the second floor of the building. Kelly followed behind her, wanting to go to his apartment. He noticed that the woman stopped at a door right across from his, opening the heavy door with one hand so she could place the boxes in there.
"Looks like we're neighbors," Kelly found himself saying, not understanding why he wanted to talk to the woman who had shut him down.
"You're pretty observant," the woman laughed, rolling her eyes and closing the door. Kelly winced when he heard the deadbolt on the other side of the door lock.
He went back into his own apartment, grabbing a beer from the fridge. As he absentmindedly watched a hockey game he couldn't help but think about that woman, wondering what her story was and why she knocked him so far off his game.