500 reviews on Baby Severide means a new one shot! Yay! This one is for Sandygirl (thank you again). My alternative ending for 2x22. Because the show was… just NO! I don't do song fics but if I did this one would be set to Heartbeat by Vérité because I listened to it on repeat while writing. Warning it's quite dark.
Disclaimer: If I owned it I wouldn't be writing alternative endings…
Erin Lindsay wasn't herself. She couldn't be. Her usual self wouldn't have let Nadia die, brutally murdered. The thought forced bile to rise and Erin was sure she was going to be sick again, but she didn't move. Her next move would define her forever so she stayed frozen in place. For the millionth time those days played in her mind, a revolting loop that showcased her failings. Pressing Yates in the interrogation room, to angry that they were letting him walk to notice the way he looked at Nadia. Doing everything she could to provoke him when they'd met later that day. He was supposed to want to hurt her, make her suffer for his enjoyment. What he had done was so much worse, inflicting unimaginable pain without laying a single finger on her. It was horribly poetic but the light in Erin Lindsay's life was gone. Nadia had been so busy turning her life around, constantly thanking Erin for her help, that she hadn't seen herself as the older woman's inspiration. On a bad day, the worst when Erin seriously considered calling in sick, Nadia was there to motivate her. A single smile from the bubbly teen was enough to remind her of her purpose. That was gone. She no longer had a purpose. She had failed. She was useless. She had always been useless. Thinking otherwise was delusional. Four options lay before her but in that moment she only saw three, only enough energy remaining to make one move.
First was the bottle of whiskey, the tamest choice she could make. It had worked the night before, her mother practically pouring the amber liquid down her throat. That was why she had decided to stay in tonight. Even in her grief-stricken state she knew that going to her mother two nights in a row would be a mistake. The bottle was three quarters full but she was sure she could empty it, strangely thrilled by the thought of damaging her liver. Numbing her mind until she couldn't think, remember, move. Until she wasn't herself, the self she had become. Then she thought of the consequences, it was only a temporary solution though the hangover might work in her favour. Overwhelming her body with feeling, pain, was equally effective in taking her mind off the heartbreak. She still had to work the next day. Work. The routine she had lived for years now the only thing keeping her sane, or at least providing a sane exterior. "Just shoot me" She whispered hoarsely, remembering the tense moments of her afternoon as she looked to her next option.
It would be quick. Messy. Final. A permanent solution to what she knew was a permanent pain. The matte black, sleek weapon she had used to stay alive on so many occasions lay before her. As always a trusty companion. The light caught on the shiny metallic surface of the top round in the clip, if she went through with it that would be the one. Picturing the series of actions it would require, gun in her right, clip in her left. She could almost hear the satisfying click that resulted when the two were joined. Then her fingers would move of their own accord, another click. The safety this time. Muscle memory ensuring she was ready. No matter how much her hands shook she wouldn't miss, she'd take a deep breath, depress the trigger and it would be done. Eye twitching as a half-smile found its way onto her face. There would be no consequences for her. Except of course being dead. She wasn't selfish enough not to think of the after though. Who would find her body? Hank? Jay? Would they feel the way she did right now? Would they feel the loss as physical pain? Of course they wouldn't. Just like with Nadia it was inevitable that she was going to ruin their lives as well. A matter of time. Hank watching over and cleaning up after her while Jay chased her, wanting something she could never give him. This was the only real solution but in fairness to the effort she had gone to she turned to the third option.
Crisp white powder in a small clip lock bag. The feeling of going home after a long time rose in her chest, this was what she knew. This was safe. The comforting embrace she craved for the first time in years. That was a lie. She wanted it, always. Not like Nadia. Nadia had been so much stronger, fighting the hypnotic power of the substance, truly freeing herself. Erin had been clean for more than a decade but she honestly didn't know how that had happened, every time she saw or smelled it she felt the pull. It had to be a miracle because she knew she didn't have that much self-control. This option fell between the other two, it could be temporary or permanent. A lifestyle change or… more. If she had more she could overdose. The dealer, quite ironically named Innocent, she had sourced the quantity before her from would be suspicious to see her twice in one day after fifteen years. She was sure she could find another dealer, its Chicago after all, but that would be quite the delay. She wanted this to be over now. She was stalling. She had enough to get high. Decision time.
Then a thought occurred to her. She could always do all three. A couple of lines, some whiskey and then the finishing touch. That would make things interesting for the coroner. "Just pick one" She muttered to herself, sliding her hand from her thigh, leaning forward until her hand hovered above the coffee table. More specifically above the gun. That was her choice then. Getting drunk was too ordinary. Getting high wasn't what Nadia would want. Not that she could want anything. She was dead. Erin paused to run self-diagnostic checks, making sure she was thinking rationally before running a finger across the cold, rough surface of the gun. Fingers sliding into place, accustomed to the weight as she lifted it. This was playing out exactly the same way it had in her head. But the first click wasn't satisfying. "Holy shit" She breathed, hands shaking wildly as she gasped for air. There didn't seem to be enough. She didn't let that stop her though, the bullet was in the chamber, a second click and she was ready. Or at least she tried to tell her screaming mind that she was. A few steadying breaths. A moment to remember how she had reached this conclusion. Hesitation when she realised her extraordinary selfishness. If she was going to do this, and she was determined to, her last thoughts had to be of Nadia. For the second time that day a loaded gun was pointed at her head. She wanted this. She had begged for this. "Just. Shoot. Me" She commanded herself. The kid couldn't do it, and she was glad. She didn't want him to live with that. She could do it, she wouldn't have to live with it. "God" She groaned, frustrated that her mind had wandered again. Nadia. Nadia. Nadia. This breath could be her last. Nadia. A snort of laughter. Of all things to think of her protesting mind had settled on Sergeant Platt. The biggest bitch of all. Erin wasn't sure if she was laughing or crying, her entire body shaking. Completely hysterical. Tears streaming down her face, blurring her vision so much that she could barely distinguish the barrel of the gun from the dark wall behind it.
"Who have you talked to? I mean really talked to…"
The desk sergeant's words echoed in her mind. Over and over again as her thumb clicked the safety back on, dropping the gun to the coffee table. Grasping for the final option before sitting back on the couch. Pulling her knees to her chest, fingers moving though she wasn't yet sure what she was doing. Rocking back and forth as she pressed the call icon on her phone screen, holding the device to her ear as she waited. One ring than another. She had to breathe but she didn't want to, maybe she could kill herself this way instead. Arm jerking away from her body as she considered the mistake she had made. Talking couldn't help. Wouldn't help. It wasn't too late. She could swap the phone for the gun in an instant.
"Erin?" His voice questioned, that she could hear him at all was a surprise. The distance seemed to be cancelled out by the complete silence in the room. Panic. What should she do? Hang up? He'd call back. Lie and say her finger had slipped. Unlikely but believable. There was one thing she had to do though, her body wouldn't let her last any longer, forcing air into her lungs against her will. "Erin? You there?" He asked, ready to give up. Hang up on her and return to the beer and hockey game before him. But he couldn't seem to take the phone from his ear though, desperate to know why she had called him. Why now?
"I… need you." Erin didn't know where the words had come from but she suspected they were so soft he hadn't heard them. She could still finish this. It wasn't too late.
"I'm on my way. I'll be five minutes max. I'm coming. Don't worry. I'll be there soon. It'll be okay…" He replied immediately. He had heard her. The pain and desperation in her plea forcing a stream of comforting words to pour from his mouth. The beep. His feet moving impossibly faster. She couldn't bear it. She needed it to stop. She'd been told so many times that it would be okay.
"It's not fucking okay!" She declared, curling her fingers around the gun before pressing it to her head again. Mind unwavering this time. Motivated by that the knowledge he would be here soon. If she hadn't done it he'd stop her. They'd all stop her. This was the only chance she had so why hadn't she done it yet? Nadia. Nadia. Peace? Why did she feel so calm all of a sudden? She wanted to be shaking but she wasn't, nervous jitters translated into shifting herself slightly. Making sure she'd fall backwards onto the couch. She could see the blood staining the fabric. Pooling. Dripping. Nadia. Would she be as pale as Nadia had been by the time he arrived? She didn't know enough about forensic medicine to calculate the rate of blood loss. It would be a lot. Fast. Nadia. Wasting time. Nadia. Nadia. Deep breath. Knock on the door. Hesitating. He'd hear the gunshot.
"ERIN?" He yelled, pounding on the door.
"Erin isn't here" She told him. And herself. Finding the sweet spot of the trigger, depressed as far as it could be before the hammer snapped forward, pin striking the primer. Sending the bullet on its way. Into her brain. Ending her life. Ending the pain.
"ERIN!" He was slamming into the door with his shoulder now. She didn't hear him though. Nadia's smile all she could see as her finger moved smoothly. Pulling the trigger back as far as it would go. "ERIN? For fucks sake open the bloody door or I'll break it down" He shouted, as he slammed into the door, so loudly that he didn't stand a chance of hearing anything from within the apartment. The task was harder than he expected, given it was something he did every day. This particular door was solid and unyielding, so much so that he was certain he was just hurting himself. He couldn't stop though, throwing all of his bodyweight at it again and again. Then all of a sudden it popped and he stumbled forwards, almost losing his footing as he crossed the threshold. He'd been so desperate to get in that he hadn't thought about what he would find when he did. Creeping silently down the hall, he could already see most of the coffee table. The bottle of whiskey wasn't unexpected, of course she was drinking. Nadia was dead. Drugs though? What was she thinking? That wasn't it though. One more step and the wall to his right would be gone but his eyes were fixed on the gun. Just lying there on the couch. The cushion next to it still fluffing back up. She had been sitting there. She had probably been holding the gun. That meant she was… He didn't want to think it. He needed to find her. Scanning the space quickly before starting towards her bedroom. A sob stopping him in his tracks. She was right there, curled in the corner behind the table. Sobbing and rocking. He didn't need to think, making his way to her, siding down the wall to sit next to her.
"I'm sorry" She whispered, rapidly trying to compose herself. Wiping her eyes and running a hand through her hair. She shouldn't have called him. He couldn't help. She was far to messed up.
"Shh" He soothed as he pulled her into his lap, barely feeling the elbow she slammed into his chest as she fought him. He wasn't going to let go, hold only tightening around her as she thrashed wildly. "Shh. Er… baby just breathe" He instructed as he felt the fight leave her body, loosening his grip, worried that he had crushed her.
"I want to die" She answered, looking up at him for the first time. Trying to hold her breath again.
"No you don't" He argued, shaking his head as he stroked his thumb across her cheek.
"Yes I do"
"If you really wanted that you'd have done it. You just want to stop hurting. You want to stop feeling guilty…" He tried to persuade her.
"No! I deserve this, I have to feel like this. I am guilty!" She maintained, trying to push herself away from him. Oxygen flowing into her lungs as she sought the strength it would provide.
"No you aren't. I'm not letting go until you believe that. I'm here for you now and I'm not going anywhere. Ever" He vowed earnestly, holding her head to his chest before pressing his lips to her hair.
"Kelly, don't" She complained, lacking the energy to fight him she took his hands in her own, hoping he wouldn't make this more difficult than it already was.
"Erin don't. Please don't" He pleaded. He would release her if that was what she really wanted, he didn't think it was though so he squeezed her hands softly and looked into her eyes. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that. I won't do it again, unless you want me to. I just want to be here. I'm going to be here" He assured, this was his chance to make things right. If, when, she let him in he would be there, ready to listen the moment she was ready to talk.
"Thank you…" She nodded, his deep blue eyes conveying just how serious he was. "Don't leave me. I don't want to die" She whispered, hating how pathetic she sounded but meaning every word.
"I'm not going anywhere" Kelly reaffirmed. And he didn't. For three days they stayed in her small apartment. She cried, for hours while he held her, screamed, because it was so unfair, then finally she talked, until he knew as much about Nadia as she did. Determined that she wouldn't forget a single detail. Then she slept, deeply and peacefully for the first time, giving him the chance to call Voight. Asking the irate older man to take the gun and dispose of the drugs, assuring him that his little girl would be okay. They were both irreparably broken, but they were broken together and somehow that made it better.
How I wish Severide could step in fix everything in the show… Though at this point I don't really care where the help comes from, as long as she gets it this season! I did have a sickeningly corny ending in mind but I'm not keen on public humiliation so it'll stay locked away in my brain… I hope you liked my spin on it. Leave me a review and let me know what you think :D