So this is my first story ever. Fanfictions are lifestyle, you know? You would have no fun without projecting your desperations on fictional characters. Please don't judge my poor life...And big thank you to my amazing inspiration, you know you are the best.
Frustrated. I felt so damn frustrated. It wasn't suppose to be like that. Chief wasn't supposed to be dead, Ryan wasn't suppose to be in different city and moving on and I surly wasn't suppose to be kissing my captain. But they did. I did. Damn. It is not easy to cope with firefighter's death. Especially with death of your chief, of your friend's love and also your friend, sort of. Well, we weren't exactly friends. But we knew. We knew what it feels like to run towards the burning house and not to know, if you will come back. I guess this knowledge makes us all friends. Or at least it makes us understand each other in some way. Ryan was the one who didn't understand. I mean, he did, he understand that our job is no joke and his either. But he didn't know. And I think that was the problem. That was the reason of us being on and off all over again. Because it was not just him. It was me either. I am a firefighter, he is a cop. And as other firefighters know, cops know in a way no other can. And now he is gone and I am here alone, doing stupid things. Like kissing my boss. Like wishing to do that again. Damn. When you think about it, it so weird that neither of us died in the fire yet. Don't get me wrong, I am so glad it haven't happened yet. But think about the odds. We run into burning buildings almost every day. Or climb cliffs, saving people. Falling into ravines counts. Yeah, that was fun. I suppose to be dead. He suppose to be on a wheelchair. But we made it out alive and whole. Our patient wasn't that lucky. I always thank God that I survived. But now I wish I was dead, buried five feet in the ground. I feel so dumb. No, no dumb. I feel so embarrassed. I kissed my boss and he – he kissed me back, pushed me into the wall, kissed my neck, undo my belt, touched me under my shirt and then he sent me away. Like nothing happened. Like it was a mistake. Like I was a mistake. You know, I would never think about him that way, unless Maya pointed it out after the funeral. And it hit me hard. Truck into the wall hard. So it is Mayas' fault. If she wouldn't be secretly shagging Jack all the time, I would have a friend to talk to. Except I would not talk about it with anyone. You are not allowed to like your boss. Or have any feelings of this sort for them.
Do I have a feelings towards him? Oh yeah, he is my friend. Or was? Or is? Now I don't know. But I know that I'll kick his pretty ass, when I see him next time. I like to hold a grudge against people who made me angry. When he came to the nineteen, we "disliked" each other. I was a bitch to him, I can say. But he wasn't any better. His assets here, assets there, drove us crazy. Some big guy comes to our family and throws orders around. No way, man. So at first he was pain in the ass. Later he became simply our captain, when we got used to each other. At this moment, weird things started to happen. Like when he once or twice called me by my name. Of course I did notice, he never called me by my name before. But I was too in the middle of our classical Andy/Maya drama to think about it. That was the time I called him out. I know I shouldn't yell, but not only he was picking on my best friend, but he was embarrassing us in front of our chief. So he deserved it. Same as I deserved that absolute nerve wrecking day after that. And when I thought it was my last minutes as a lieutenant, he asked me out. Out. Like "for a coffee with a friend" out. But we are definitely not friends. And that was the time I started to notice. Like the super awkward coffee the following morning. Oh my god, I am so angry with him. Damn him. And damn that stupid aid car accident. When we were stuck in the car on the side, all I could think about was him not being injured, because I wasn't sure I could do it on my own. My head hurt so bad, my ribs were cracked and I was dizzy. So when he said my name, I felt so relieved. But only for a second.
When you are a firefighter, people often believe, that you don't fear anything. But you do. Or at least I do. I am afraid every time we run into burning building. Not only you are putting yourself in danger, but the amount of people you love and could lose is frightening. So yes, in the aid car I was afraid like I've never been before. Our victim was bleeding and I couldn't help her much, Sullivan was paralyzed and I probably had just concussion, but I could be easily bleeding into my freaking brain and that would be our end. So I did the best I could in that moment.
When Sullivan told me that he is afraid that he will never walk again, he had tears in his eyes. And I knew. I felt it with him. I felt his pain and it hurt me more than my broken ribs. And I decided that I won't let that happened. So I did the most irresponsible, but only thing that could save our asses. And it worked out. We were safe and alive. Almost all of us. Shannon gave up. And the I gave up. I wanted cry my eyes out, to lay on the ground and die. But somehow I needed to be strong, because he needed me to be. So I stood up and after my father checked me out, I helped others with Shannon and Sullivan. I held his hand on the way to the hospital. I cried, he did too. In that moment I felt connected to him. Like I was responsible for him now. After all, I suggested to drive to the hospital despite the dispatch recommendation. So I felt like it was my fault, that he was injured. And that Shannon died. Oh god, I don't even want to think about that stupid medal of honor. I didn't deserve it and I still don't.
We became friends, after that. We ate together and work out together. Because he didn't have anyone else. And to be honest, I felt like I was alone too. All squad, they were amazing, caring and everything, but no one was there with us. And the whole bright spot thing? Oh god, that was something. When I look at it now, I think my heart skipped two beats. One because of how it hit me and the other because of how he looked at me. Something in me moved and I was helpless. And the morning in the gym, seeing him in his loose shirt made me want to lose my shirt. And my pants. But instead, I lost my dignity not even a half on hour ago. Damn again.
But all of those feeling I realised after that Mayas' stupid comment of how she saw some things. Things that wasn't even a things before. Things that wasn't suppose to be things at all. So what, I held his hand, when no one else would. I touched his shoulder, because it is natural reaction to someone who is grieving. He was literally waiting for death of his best friend. I had to do something. Everyone was there for Vic, but non of them was there for him. His wife was dead, his best friend too and I was afraid he would close up again, after all the effort I put into making him open up to me a little. All of this weren't things. So no, Maya, you guessed wrong. You made me thing that it all meant something and it got me so confused, that I almost slept with him. I almost slept with my boss. Oh god, I want to die. Immediately. And I want to take him with me, so he would burn in hell for all those feelings he made me feel. For his thrilling touches and whispers. Why did he even kissed me back, when he clearly wasn't on the same page. But wasn't he? According to his tight pants he did enjoy it. A lot, I can say. He was willing participant, so why should I feel bad about all of that? If anything, I should make him feel bad too. Yes, yes, I know that I'm no saint, I have a certain history with some guys. But non of them made me feel used. If anything, maybe there could be a chance that they may feel used by me. A little bit. Oh no, don't go there Andy, you are not like that. And you know what? That dumbass took my belt. My belt that I need and want back. How he dared to take it from my pants and not go all the way? You don't pull out belt and stop. But he did and now I walk for half an hour, I am cold, I am angry and I want to cry. I want to go back and yell and scream at him, how he dared to kick me out. How he dared to touch me the way he did and kick me out? Oh man, he made me so angry. I need to go back and tell him. Tell him how he hurt me and that he cannot do such things to me.
And so I turned and went back to the station. As angry and hurt as I can be.
Damn. Damn, damn, damn. My stupid damned leg. I so screwed up. Big time. But I couldn't let her see me like that again. I broke in front of her once and I couldn't let myself to do that again. So I did probably the stupidest thing I could. I told her to go, even though all I wanted was a complete opposite. I wanted her to stay, to take her clothes off and love her. But my leg has an opposite opinion. And my head. I feel guilty, because I am not allowed to kiss my lieutenants. I feel guilty, because I cheated on my wife. I know she is not here anymore, but I just find it hard to convince myself otherwise. But I find it even harder to resist her. What a change, huh? I never thought I would be able to look at another woman. Claire was so kind, loving, beautiful, gentle and all those amazing things you can find in another human being. She is something else, tough. Fierce, challenging, maddening and annoying. So stubborn, arrogant and – brave, strong, dedicated and unbelievably beautiful. To cope with her every day is not easy. Professionally and personally. Professionally because she is still a little bit angry with her not being a captain. Personally, because every time I see her I want to do unspeakable things to her. For the start, the unspeakable thing was simply eating with the crew. Then it moved to talking about things other than work, personal things, like feelings about stuff. After that came those "friend talks". And then came the morning in the gym and all of those unspeakable things popped up in my mind. Just like that, without a warning. It was hard. If you know what I mean. But it made me think about my life. Am I happy the way I am? Certainly not, but I am safe and that is what I was going for. Safe is good, safe don't get you hurt. Or people around you. But now I think about things that could hurt me, her and people around us. But god, is it so tempting.
Simply looking at her every day at work was enough for a few weeks. Talking to her was something precious to me, because no one else wanted to talk to me. Well, maybe I didn't want to talk to them. But she didn't care, what I wanted. She wanted to talk and she did. Like always she got what she wanted. And I gladly gave up. But when I experienced her touch, things started to go fast. I know she touched me when I was motionless in the aid car and so, but that is not what I mean. She held my hand on the way to the hospital, she held my hand all the time I desperately tried to stay strong. But as I said, she didn't care that I wanted to look like I can handle things. Because I couldn't. Nevertheless, those touches I have in mind came later. Like when she accidentally brushed her fingers with mine, when I handed her the wine bottle. When we were at the gym and she needed me to help her to stretch her leg. First I didn't think of it much, but now I have a feeling that maybe it wasn't as innocent, as I thought. But I was willing participant in all of those touches. I always found some reason to touch her, even if it was a slight feathery finger brush.
But then Ripley died and she seemed occupied with Victoria. She is her friend, so it was completely understandable. But somehow I wished that I had a friend on my side too. And yeah, I wanted her to be that friend. But in the sudden she was there, looking at me and holding my hand and for that I am eternally grateful, because with that simple touch she washed away that desperate fear of being alone again. Even when me and Luke still hadn't been on the good terms, I hoped that maybe I could open up to him again, when Andy showed me that it isn't that hard.
Andy. I like her name. I liked it from the start, even when I didn't like her. It suits her. And in occasion, I let it slip because I liked how it sounded. And I think she caught me on this one. But I don't mind, because she didn't say anything about that. And now I call her Andy all the time because she is my friend. But I don't call her by her name when others are around. It is too intimate, I guess. But you should not feel intimate saying your friend's name. Except when you say your friend's name when you are holding her pinned underneath you in bed. Then it is intimate. Not that anything like that happened. Well, at least anywhere but in my head. My head does a lot of this annoying things lately. Like when we went for the hydrant inspections, my head started to think what it would be like to stop the car in some lonely alley. Or when I tried to write speech for Luke's funeral, my mind wandered into completely inappropriate places and situations that included lack of clothes, hair out of ponytail and lots and lots of callings to god. I was trying to write an eulogy, for god's sake. I felt like I was drowning in all those happy and sad feelings.
Drowning, yes. Like in that pool in LA, except we weren't drowning, we were almost cooked in hot water. And somehow I remained calm, when she came into full panic mode. I tried to calm her down and I touched her face. But I think that made her panic even more because she rushed back to the surface not knowing if it was safe already. And when we were standing in front of each other, me ready to apologize for scaring her like that, she kissed me. Completely out of nothing she kissed me. And I gladly gave up once again.
I'm not new to this kind of stuff, but with her I felt like sixteen again. I couldn't hold back long enough, I wanted more and I wanted it right away. As did she, when she willingly let me take her belt off. Kissing her neck made me feel weak in my knees. But now I don't doubt that it wasn't kissing her that made me feel weak. I mean yes, it was, but in the good kind of feeling weak. This was the stupid injury that ruined everything. When she pushed me down on the bed I already saw us naked and heavy, but as soon as she pulled away to get the door locked, my leg gave up. My stupid leg let me down. And my mind started to race. I am her boss, I am too old for her, I am injured, I cheat on my wife, I am using her, I like her too much to hurt her. And so I hurt her even more. I told her to go and it wasn't the smart move, because if you leave out the hurt thing, now I can't move and I can't go to the hospital. And I don't want to call anyone, because I really don't want to explain, why I am half naked and someone's belt is on the floor. Damn, damn, damn. I wish I was dead, because anything is better than this awful situation. And I don't even want to think about our now destroyed friendship, the only thing that kept me going this last few days.
But you are not suppose to wish this kind of things, because you can jinx it. And now, with furious Andy bursting through the door, hurt and anger beaming from her face directed right at me, now I wish I was dead.