This was only planned as my way of dealing with Crusade but through a PM from madi355 this piece got some depth. Seeing as the promo for the next episode already all but contradicts this I thought there is no harm in sharing. I know there is nothing to enjoy in here but thank you for reading and if you feel like sharing your thoughts, my PMs are open too if you don't like to comment publicly of if you just need someone to talk to.

Chris feels raw and numb at the same time.

Now on the drive home is the first time her colleagues aren't at her side.

The mandatory session with the psychologist had not really helped her with her guilt and anger. Listening to Dr. Wendy talking about the five stages of grief, mapping out the path forward had been a tiny steppingstone she had tried to keep stoic. Her tears had been in her eyes the whole time, threatening to spill even if that seemed impossible. So many tears had been cried up until that point.

Chris had fought them all, no one had been able to console her and now standing alone in front of her door she feels like slamming her fist against it.

Her anger at herself bubbling away in her stomach. She shouldn't have made the suggestion to take Erika with them. If they had rolled out one down, she would still be alive.

How had that even happened? Why Erika? She wasn't even supposed to be there? Why not me?

Subconsciously Chris starts bargaining with an unseen force, trying to figure out what she could've done differently.

Her feelings are all over the place, and for a hot minute, she is even angry at Deac for not having been there before the horrific scene in her mind changes to him lying there on the pallets bleeding out. The shock brings her back to her apartment and the empty living room.

She flops down on the ground where the taped-out shape of their sofa is. This time she can't stop the tears. The memory of their conversation from this morning coming back full force. Chris hits the floor next to her.

This is not fair. This wasn't supposed to happen.

After what feels like an eternity Chris finally moves to her bed, falling into a restless sleep. Always dreaming of different scenarios but everything always ends with either Erika or anybody else dying.

Out of habit, she prepares two coffee mugs for breakfast, and only when she is in front of Erika's door, about to knock, it hits her again. These dreams were not all simply nightmares. They were fueled by the past day.

Still, she knocks on the door before opening it. It feels wrong not to knock, even if she isn't here. Will never be here again.

Chris takes a look around the room, she knows she isn't ready to pack this all up, but her rational mind still wants to take stock of what will need to be done.

Her eyes land on the legal pad and pen on the small desk and her feet move in that direction instantly. Not necessarily out of curiosity but what if it is something important, something she can take of right now.

Chris knows she needs to stay busy, to not fall down the black hole that are her feelings right now.

And since she doesn't have work to keep her occupied today, maybe she can do this for Erika and feel close to her. Keep her in her thoughts and help.

When she turns over the folded paper her breath stops.

Chris,

It feels right and wrong at the same time writing this. Is that normal? It feels weird addressing this to a fellow officer. When I wrote for my family, after the academy, and to keep up with the tradition, I knew exactly what to write to them, but for you? For someone who knows what is out there?

Let me try this another way:

I am happy you are my friend. That we found a way to get along even after you drew the line in the sand you helped me through the academy. I am sure you forced Street to help me. And I think I never said thank you for that. So, if I still didn't: THANK YOU. And if I did? Well, I can't thank you enough.

You made sure I was integrated, and you made sure I had connections with your friends too. I think I can finally understand why everyone is jealous of 20 David: you guys are more than friends. You are more like a family. Sometimes a little dysfunctional but still.

Chris can't help the small smile and quiet laugh over her tears. Her team is a small, dysfunctional family. But they are always there for each other even if they aren't talking much.

Her eyes look down at the paper again. Turning the paper, to continue reading:

Thank you for making me a part of that family.

Chris can't stop the new onslaught of tears reading that last line. They had all let her in, Street had called her honorary 20 David yesterday.

She sinks to the floor, not even daring to sit on the bed, and cries bitter tears of regret.

It should've been me.