a/n: this is retaliation for charlie's gifset on tumblr psa
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two souls don't find each other by simple accident jorge luis borges
.&.
He's coming off an eight hour shift that somehow became fourteen when he sees her at the nurses' station, clipboard at her elbow, typing into the computer reserved for the paramedic reports. Her hair's falling out of its usual ponytail and he watches as she absentmindedly tucks a strand behind her ear before returning to the keyboard.
Her partner stands next to her, chattering about and waving a cup of coffee in the air. He almost brushes past them, too tired to string together a coherent sentence, when Brett spots him and waves.
He hikes his bag higher up his shoulder and switches directions, nodding a greeting to the younger blonde.
"Hey Doc," says Brett. "Heading home?"
"Yeah, long night. Morning, Gabby." He turns slightly, as she looks up from the computer screen to give him a smile.
"Matt, hi."
She looks good, but then again, she always does. It had been his first day at Chicago Med, when District 4 had requested for a trauma surgeon at a train derailment and when he had met up with her at their makeshift triage, all that was amiss were her blood-soaked gloves.
They had gone out to dinner afterwards, Gabby insisting that he reacclimatize to Chicago foods with hot dogs and beer from a hole in wall stand somewhere off Clark Street in Lincoln Park. He hadn't made a move after that, too bitter about how he and Hallie had ended to try so soon. Three years later, though, he wishes he had.
He's halfway to the door when he turns around again to find her staring after him, "Drinks, tomorrow? I'll buy."
She contemplates the suggestion for a moment, pursing her lips before shrugging, "Why not." The rest of her response drowned out by her radio crackling to life. She checks her watch, readjusts her radio strap, and nods at Brett. "That's just a few streets over. We'll probably beat the guys there."
He watches Brett start rolling their gurney out the emergency room's sliding doors while Gabby hangs back. "I'll see you tomorrow night, Doc," she says, a hand on his arm, before following her partner out to their rig.
Matt watches her leave, watches the red and white lights of the city-issued ambulance peal out of Chicago Med's driveway.
—
"Pediatric oncology."
"What?"
"I wanted to work in pediatric oncology. I had it all planned out. Biochem in undergrad, med school, great residency program. Do the time, save the world." She pauses, takes a long pull of her beer. "My best friend got cancer when I was eleven. Leukemia. It was supposed to be treatable. She spent three years in and out of the hospital." She drags a finger through the water ring on the table, mindlessly creating shapes, drawing out the silence. "It came back when I was a senior in college. It metastasized quickly, aggressively, spread everywhere." There are tears gathering at the corner of her eyes. "She died, a month before I graduated. I barely had a chance to say goodbye."
He looks at her, leaning heavily against the bar, head in her hands.
"I couldn't do it," she talks to the counter, eyes fixed on a knot in the wood. "I deferred a year to UChicago's med school. I thought I needed some time away from all of it. I volunteered with Northwestern's EMT program all four years of undergrad, so I was already certified. Leslie, she had a friend who worked for the CFD, Kelly, he got me a spot with the city and here I am."
"Why didn't you go after the year was over?" He's staring intently at her, trying to figure out the mystery surrounding a young woman already so troubled.
He would have never guessed, watching her interact with the nurses and attending doctors at Chicago Med. Bubbly, compassionate, a little bit bad ass; all of those descriptors were thrown around the locker room when he asked about her after shift once. But, that kindness and care she shows with each person that ends up in the back of her ambulance had to come from somewhere, he figured.
"I thought about it," she shrugs. "When my year was up, I almost went back. Then I pushed it to six more months, turned into two years. I couldn't do it." She takes a deep breath, he watches it wrack her body before she shakes her head and turns to look at him again. "So what's your story, Doc? Why'd you go down the road of no sleep, lots of coffee, and insufferable know-it-alls?"
Her eyes twinkle in the low lights of the bar, the wood paneling highlighting her tan skin. He laughs briefly and shakes his head, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I can't follow up that. My story's gonna sound real bad in comparison to yours."
"Impossible," she says, tossing back a handful of mixed nuts.
"I thought it was the best way to stick it to my parents."
She peers over the rim of her beer bottle.
"See, you think that's bad," he leans back in his seat, takes a drink of his own beer.
"No, I think that's a story. That's the start of a great story."
They're nestled into a corner table at one of the pubs frequented by Chicago's first responders. Most of the people are crowded around the bar, energy fixed on the Bears game being broadcast. The mood of the group fluctuates with the number of interceptions made by Cutler. Gabby, though, watches him, curiosity gleaming up at him.
"Dad didn't care, you know? He could've cared less what I did and when I was a kid all I wanted was for him to care for even a second. I did sports, hockey, baseball, even played football for a season. I guess I thought if he thought I'd amount to nothing, I'd become somebody. Going to med school seemed like the best solution at the time."
"How about your mom? Or, your sister?" she hesitates only a moment.
He shrugs. "Christie was too wrapped up in her own stuff and my mom, I think she's just glad I'm not a deadbeat like him."
She waits until the Bears screw up another play and finishes her drink, tilting the glass in his direction. "Well, for what it's worth, I care."
—
They split the cab ride back from the bar. He rattles off her address first, remembering it from the few times she's invited him by for dinner or when he's dropped by to fix whatever leaky sink or drafty window her landlord is too cheap to fix. The ride is bumpy, the both of them being jostled left and right from the potholes left over from the harsh winter. Gabby's giggling into his shoulder as he tells her about some of the more questionable ER visitors he's assisted over the years, chiming in every so often when she has a story from the paramedic side of things.
He tells the cabbie to wait as they roll up to her complex, getting out of the car to walk her to her door. The streetlights catch on the gems of her necklace as he leans against her doorjamb to say goodnight.
"Stay," she whispers, looking up at him. "Don't you want to give it a shot?"
"You deserve more than a shot, Gabby. This is worth doing right."
She stares up at him with a challenge in her eyes. "Well here's your chance."
He hesitates only a second before slipping a hand around her neck, pulling her closer to him, and pressing a kiss to her lips. She parts for breath first, landing on her heels and he murmurs into the space between them, laughter in his voice, "Just one thing, let me pay the cab first."
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i tend to write when classes are super boring so i have a couple more saved in my drafts but! if you have any prompts that you wanna see with these two morons drop a line at my tumblr (gabrielaadawson) or twitter (nikki_moscato) where it's chicago fire trash 24/7