Chapter Four: And the Dust Settles
Cailin pulled away as Clarke let out a small grunt of pain when her arm involuntarily snaked around his back. "Crap, sorry," she said, jerking back as though she had touched a hot burner.
"I'll live," he said, trying to force a smile.
She just looked at him, blinking, worried. Finally she said, "I should go check on Matt. And Kelly. And Leslie," she tacked on, her tone getting more despondent with each syllable.
"Shay?" Clarke said, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"Apparently she got hurt in the first blast when she tried to protect Gabby. But like somebody else," Cailin glared at him, "she kept her turnout kit on and kept going. Took it in the gut with a piece of rebar." She paused before asking, "you planning on telling me why Raffety was going on about ruling out permanent paralysis with Kelly?"
He hadn't wanted to burden her with anything else, though he should have known she would sniff out information on anybody from 51 in a nanosecond. "He was buried under debris, had to rely on his PASS to find him. I didn't know anything was wrong at first, at least not until he didn't jump up blowing me off and telling me he was all good." Clarke gave a slight shrug, the most he could manage under his dressings, "it looked like a blast zone, they were all peppered with shrapnel…" he trailed off, his eyes losing focus.
Cailin knew he was either going back to the building or to one of his deployments; regardless, he wasn't all with her. "Jeff," she said quietly, reaching out and gently running the back of her hand down his forearm, hoping he wasn't in the grips of a flashback and about to strike out at her.
"What?" he asked, blinking, as if just waking up, continuing,"Severide will rally, he's too much of a hotshot not to. Not to mention his detective seems as pushy as someone else I know." Clarke gave her a hollow smile, knowing he had been slipping down that deep well; could practically feel the grit of the sand as it blasted his face, could smell the metallic tang in the air as spent casings rained down. Not to mention Newhouse's face kept floating before his eyes, his face and lungs full of blood, his eyes wide with panic.
"Hey, didn't you just tell me you weren't going anywhere on me?" Cailin remarked, keeping her tone light, sitting gently on the gurney next to him. "You want to tell me what you keep seeing?"
Clarke stiffened slightly, shocked at her offer to listen. Not that he should have been, he knew she had been through a lot of the same hell even without leaving American soil. It was just so different to be approached gently, without accusation or anger. She wasn't going to tell him to snap out of it or that he was being ridiculous. She genuinely wanted to know what was haunting him, to help him banish those ghosts. "Newhouse, that damn kid."
Cailin nodded, not wanting to push, but wanting to let him vent. Sometimes talking it out made it better, but sometimes it didn't. "How bad was it?" she asked finally.
Clarke took a large intake of air. "There wasn't a damn thing I could do without a ventilator and a medical degree, nothing except watch him die in front of me and know he was doing it." He worked his jaw, his eyes clouding with tears and pain.
"Oh, Jeff," Cailin breathed out, placing her hand on his thigh, needing to maintain connection with him; but not wanting to hurt him and not knowing what to say. "It's all so awful," she stated finally.
"Not all, babe," he said, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her closer to his side.
He didn't let go even as the nurse came back in, dropping a pair of sweatpants and a scrub shirt on his lap. "Best I could do. Detective Callahan, I believe you can see Lieutenant Casey now if you would like. I can make sure this one finds his way there after we get the paperwork done."
Cailin looked at Clarke, torn between who she should be with. "Go," he said, "I'll be right behind you, making sure you get an icepack on you soon," he added, teasingly.
If you could look past the machines and tubes and could ignore the beeping and whooshing, it looked like Matt was just catching a really good nap. Cailin wondered if that was the case, she hoped so. Christie was sitting as his bedside, clutching his hand in both of hers while Gabby stood next to her in the hallway, staring through the glass.
"This can't be happening,," she said, shaking her head in disbelief.
"I can't say this is how I thought today would go," Cailin replied, absently moving the key pendant along the chain around her neck.
The movement caught Gabby's eye, her friend didn't normally wear much jewelry, especially around her neck; always trying to hide her scar. She recalled seeing the new addition as she complimented Cailin on her sundress, but was distracted by something. It hit her. Some one. Matt had pulled her aside, wanting to talk. And then…and then…her breath caught in her throat and she struggled to get in oxygen. Trying to cover she asked, "did you know Matt was going to propose today?"
Cailin made a small noise, close to a snort. "Nope. Probably wouldn't have suggested someone else's wedding as an ideal spot. Did you say yes?" she asked, her voice shaking.
"I didn't get a chance to answer," Gabby replied somberly.
"Go in, I'm sure Christie won't mind," Cailin suggested.
Gabby shook her head, "I just can't, not yet."
She nodded, catching sight of their reflection in the glass, realizing how dirty and battered they both were. Gabby's head wound cleaned and re-bandaged, but her face was still covered in soot and grime. She had taken off her bunker gear, but her paramedic uniform rumpled and reeking of smoke.
Cailin wasn't faring much better, she attempted to work a knot out of her neck, giving up as her fingers met granite. Relaxing wasn't in the cards anytime soon. "Do you mind if I?" she asked Gabby, gesturing towards the bed.
"Please, go, maybe it will help me work up the courage," Gabby said, hugging herself.
Cailin rubbed her on the back, "Gabs, I am pretty sure you have more courage in your pinkie than I could ever hope to have." She gave her friend a smile before stepping into the glass cube, carefully shutting the door behind her. "I don't know why I am trying to be quiet," she said with a hollow laugh to Christie.
"I am pretty sure the two of you don't know how to be quiet together," Christie retorted with a wan smile of her own. "Sit, please," she said, gesturing to the chair on the other side of the bed.
"How are you holding up?"
"Shouldn't I be asking you that, Cally? All this after getting shot, what, a month ago?"
Cailin gave a half-shrug, "you know us Callahans, we are a hearty stock. I'm stronger than I look." She looked down at Matt in the bed, wishing she could read whatever brain waves he was generating. "So is he," she said, trying to sound believable.
"I can't handle losing him, Cal. He's my baby brother and I couldn't protect him when-" Christie broke off, her emotions overwhelming her. She let go of her brother's hand, burying her face into her palms, sobbing, her shoulder shaking.
Cailin sat there, letting the woman be as alone as she could with her grief. The Casey siblings had a tough time of it growing up to say the least. Christie escaped as soon as she could, graduating high school early and then heading off to Northwestern.
Christie raised her head out of her palms, reaching for Matt's hand again. "He will be fine, he has to be," she said resolutely, her gazing going out the window to the hallway. "Has he asked her yet?"
Cailin knew Christie meant had he proposed to Gabby yet, but she didn't feel it was her place to reveal the events of earlier that day. "I made him promise me to tell me before he did," she said, a technical truth, just one he hadn't abided to.
"She's put him back together before, hopefully she can do it again," Christie said resolutely.
"She is a good PIC," Cailin said with a smirk.
Christie shook her head, "not just that. When Hallie broke off their engagement, he was crushed, and angry." Cailin chewed her lip, she and Matt had played plenty of phone tag during that time, but she had been so focused on building a case against Nansenko; she hadn't been there for him as much as she should have been. "And then after Hallie…" Christie trailed off before picking back up, "all he has ever wanted was the 2.5 and a picket fence. Me too, but I got mine, he needs to get his."
"He will, Chrissy, he will," Cailin said, reaching over to squeeze Matt's other hand, wincing as her shoulder screamed in pain.
Christie saw her wincing and said, "you must be exhausted. Why don't you go home and take a shower, get some sleep. I'll be fine here and Jim is coming later, his mother is coming to watch the kids."
"But what if he comes out of his sedation?," Cailin protested.
"Then I'll call you.. Cally, you have always been there for Matty, but there is no sense in all of us sitting by his bedside. Besides, there is a pretty hot guy out there who seems really concerned about you. I take it that is your Marine?"
Cailin looked over her good shoulder, catching Clarke's eyes through the glass. He raised his eyebrows and gave her a knowing look. She turned back to face Christie, "yeah, that's Jeff."
"Well I wouldn't keep him waiting long if I were you, or some nurse might try to steal him away," she said, with the faintest glimmer of a smile.
"I want to see them try," Cailin shot back, before moving around the bed to give Christie a hug. She reached out and squeezed Matt's foot admonishing him, "this is one way to get attention, bud! Get the hell better soon, would you?"
Cailin exited the room, her gaze briefly meeting Clarke's over Gabby's head before giving her friend what she hoped as a reassuring smile. "It's not as bad as you think. Just pretend he tried to drink me under the table again and he is sleeping one off. I'm going to go check on Kelly and Leslie and then catch a shower with the hopes of washing some of this day off."
Gabby looked at her with wide, frightened eyes, as if suddenly realizing that all of 51 had been in the building. "Kelly got hurt? Leslie must be freaking out. What about everyone else?" Clarke and Cailin exchanged a look. Gabby caught it and crossed her arms over her chest. "What is it, you two?"
Clarke cleared his throat, "Listen, Dawson, I know you are dealing with this, but the scene was bad. Real bad-" his voice cracked and Cally picked up reporting.
"Severide is being evaluated for a spinal injury and started seizing on the way here. Shay got hurt worse than we knew in the first explosion. They are both upstairs. Everyone else is at Chicago Med."
"Everyone?" she asked, not needing to expound for the pair to get her meaning.
Cally didn't turn her head, just shifted her weight so her arm and side were pressing against Clarke's, just trying to be a presence as he shook his head and said, "Newhouse didn't make it."
"Damn," Gabby said, tears forming in her eyes. She refused to let them fall, wiping them away with the back of her hand and saying, "I need to get in there, I have to be strong for both of us."
"If you need anything, Gabs, really, anything," Cailin said, giving her friend a quick hug.
They made their way upstairs to the neurology ward where Severide had been moved to. Cally smirked as she learned Shay was in the room next door. "Odds on Shay getting them a shared room before the day is out?"
"Maybe not the day," Clarke replied with a small smile as they exited the elevator. He kept his palm pressed against the small of her back as they neared Severide's room, refusing to break their connection.
Neither were prepared for what awaited them. Kelly Severide was surrounded by even more machines than Casey, his too pale form unmoving, unconscious. The door to the room slid shut, the pair pausing, unsure what to do until the doctor inside waved them in.
"What, what happened? He was fine, he was talking-" Cally asked, her voice rising in panic. Clarke stiffened beside her, preparing for the worst.
The doctor looked from one concerned face to the other before speaking. "The patient arrived in a state of status epilepticus, which is a persistent seizure. This was due to severe intracranial pressure, probably due the blast or his fall." She took a breath before continuing. "We had to place him in a barbiturate induced coma and under cooling blankets in order to prevent apoptosis. We're hoping this will limit any further possible brain damage."
"Further possible damage?" Cally croaked, looking around for Erin, unsure how she could possibly be keeping it together.
The doctor cleared her throat, "we won't know the extent of any damage until the swelling has gone down and we can ease him off the medications. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to do rounds."
The pair circled around on either side of their friend's bed. "Can't leave you alone for five minutes, huh, Severide?" Clarke quipped, as though Kelly was fully conscious and would respond.
Cally couldn't help but smile, even as her eyes filled with tears. "Always knew your head would swell too big once Erin agreed to go out with you, Kel," she also teased, reaching out to squeeze her friend's shoulder. She caught sight of her fellow detective out of the corner of her eye, motioning to Clarke that she was going to step out.
Cailin approached Erin who was, as she suspected, pacing anxiously in the hallway; though she was also having a terse conversation with someone. Cally bet it was Voight. Erin stabbed at her phone angrily, looking like she wanted to pitch it across the room. "Investigation not going well?"
"More like can't find anybody attached to the operation that wasn't in the building. They are still working on identifying the bodies, but so far..." Erin trailed off. "I am just not sure they suffered enough, Cally," the brunette detective said quietly, looking in on the unconscious form of her boyfriend hooked up to so many machines.
Cailin just nodded. "I know what you mean." She shook off the memories. "I'd ask how you are holding up, but I'm guessing pure adrenaline, terror and anger?"
Erin nodded, refusing to let the tears filling her eyes spill over, wiping angrily at them. "Pretty much." She sighed, looking up as Clarke slid open the door to Severide's room. "If you don't mind, I'm going to…" she trailed off, hiding her face from her friend as the tears streamed down her face.
Cailin knew how much she craved privacy, gesturing behind her friend's back for Clarke to shoo. "Totally. Let me know if there is anything I can do. In the meantime, I'm going to check in on Shay," she said, pointing at the room next door.
"Quit hovering in the doorway like I am on my deathbed and get in here, girl!"
Cailin stepped in, taking in her friend's pallor, saying, "you did not have to play the hero, sweets."
Shay gave her something between a grimace and a smile, "what and let the guys get all the glory? Please!"
Cailin smiled back before asking, "what happened? How are you doing?"
"Fell on some rebar trying to cover Dawson's sweet ass and punctured my colon. So I get to crap in a bag while I binge watch Orange is the New Black, huh?" What she didn't reveal to the blonde detective was that her injury was most likely career ending and the colostomy bag was most likely going to be a permanent fixture in her life. That would really help her love life.
Cally couldn't help but laugh, Shay joining in until she clutched her abdomen in pain. "Okay, nothing funny yet. How is Matt doing?"
"They put him on a ventilator and sedated him. They are still trying to figure out the extent of his lung damage. Gabby still seems in shock..." she trailed off before saying, "I like how you managed to get next to Kelly on the neurology floor."
"I figured between me and Detective Hairporn badgering him from a close distance, he would be back on his feet in no time." Cailin forced herself to not smile or laugh.
Shay's focus suddenly went over Cally's shoulder. "Oh no, not you too. Get in here, you big lug. I am fine, tons of sand left," she said, motioning for Clarke to enter. She looked carefully at the pair, "now no offense, but you both look," she paused, raising her eyebrows, "and smell horrible. And seeing as you both can walk out of here and eat solid food, I'm kicking you out. Go, shower, sleep, and eat the messiest Italian beef for me, since I can't."
The pair looked at each other and back to Shay before Cally before taking Clarke's offered arm and they both used each other as a crutch, in more ways than one.
"I'm guessing nobody told her about Kelly's medically induced coma," Cally said as they moved toward the elevator.
"Not a chance," he replied, stabbing at the down button, suddenly desperate to get home and try to put this nightmare of a day behind them.
Chapter Five: This is What Remains
Cailin was sitting on the sofa at Clarke's going through the stack of mail she had picked up after stopping by to visit Shay, who still hadn't been released from the hospital after going septic from her wounds and colostomy. The past couple of weeks had been difficult, to say the least; but everyone was healing, a day at a time.
Luckily neither Matt or Kelly had to have additional surgeries, the swelling on their respective injuries going down on their own. Matt was still dealing with RADs, though since 9/11 the treatment and prognosis had been much improved. Gabby had been by his side as much as she could be when not on 61 and complaining about her relief partners while Shay was still on undetermined medical leave.
Kelly was dealing with residual memory effects and the doctors were trying to figure out why he kept having mini-seizures, though the most stark problem he was dealing with was a stark change to his personality. The normally jovial man had turned sullen and angry, masking his depression by pushing everyone, even Erin away. They all kept at visiting him, willing him to get back to work as soon as possible.
Hermann was also back to work, filling in as the Lieutenant on Truck 81, even though a shaken Cindy had started pestering him to take a job down at HQ. Cruz's leg was still on the mend, but he was doing quite well. That may have had something to do with him reconnecting with a pretty nurse from his past while in the hospital, the pair having picked up their former high school romance like not a day had gone by. Mouch and Otis barely missed a shift, back making Hermann's life more interesting with their constant pranks on Truck 81's relief staff.
Mills and Capp were also both back on Squad with Clarke occasionally acting as their Lieutenant as the request of Severide; but were running their truck short after Newhouse's death even with the addition of Scott Rice.
Despite constantly trying to push her away, Detective Lindsay's remained by her firefighter's side, taking time off to literally help get Severide back up on his feet. Which was helpful for Cailin. With Erin out, Voight had allowed her to stay up in IU, assisting on cases however much she could from a desk while still stuck on modified duty. She had slowly gained Voight's trust, probably because of what occurred after Jin turned up dead and Stillwell seemed intent on pinning it on Voight. Stillwell had, naturally, tried to approach her to spy on IU. He had hoped her weakened emotional and physical state would make her an easy pawn, but she had quickly told him where to go and how to get there. She had made an enemy in IAD, but she would have rather quit CPD and become a private detective than rat on her new team.
Which is exactly what she had told them when she tried to turn in her badge to Voight, figuring Stillwell would have her canned. The Sergeant pushed it right back toward her, told her to simmer the hell down and get back to trying to figure out who had killed Jin. She and the team had pieced together enough information, after Cally had gotten a CI to help her to crack Jin's computer, to track down the Asian gang Jin's father had been in deep with. Jin had paid off his father's gambling debts with his life.
Things were finally starting to return to the new normal, even if there still seemed to be setbacks and adjustments just about every day. Cailin was eternally grateful for Jeff's support and companionship. The pair had been practically inseparable since the shooting, further cemented since the day Shay kicked them out of her hospital room. Cailin had barely been back to Gabby's, hence the stack of mail she was sorting through, including the ominous letter that she had found stuffed under the door addressed to all occupants of the building.
"Crap," she said, scanning the letter and realizing it very much applied to her.
"Crap, what?" Clarke asked from the floor where he was doing sit-ups after coming in from a jog.
"Nothing for you to worry about. Go back to your sit-ups, show off," she said, rubbing at her temples.
He pulled himself to sitting, resting his arms on his knees and giving her a look. "Spill, Callahan," he ordered.
Cailin let out a sigh. "Gabby's landlord is selling the building and the buyers are turning it back into a single family home."
"And?" he asked, wondering why she sounded so forlorn about this news.
"It means I have to move," she said, sounding stressed.
"Figured that out when you said single family home." She stared down at him. "It's just a place, babe. A place you still call Dawson's even though you've lived there for how longs?" She opened her mouth to protest, but he continued, "you haven't even unpacked your boxes and there are only five of them. You treat it like a crash pad."
She just shrugged, everything he was saying was the truth, she wasn't sure why the idea of moving bothered her so much. She was puzzling through this when Clarke nonchalantly said, "just move in with me."
Even as Clarke said the words, he regretted them. Not because he didn't want Cally to move in, but because he saw the way she looked around, biting at her lip. He could practically read her thoughts as she took that trip down memory lane.
This was how she had moved in with Doyle, no pomp and circumstance, just a matter of convenience. It didn't matter that those two weren't even together yet, just partners doing each other a solid. Clarke didn't want it to be like that, wanting their relationship to be different; to be of their own creation, uniquely theirs. Which is when the other thing hit him as he saw her looking around. Taking in his ex-wife's decor, a style that matched neither of them but he hadn't bothered to expend the energy to change. It was entirely unfair to ask her to move in here.
He stood, moving to sit next to her on the sofa, gently squeezing her knee. "We can get our own place, Cal. How hard can it be? Shay and Severide do that all the time."
She snorted, appreciative that he seemed to get what she was thinking without having to say anything. "True," she answered, continuing, "but it's your condo, you own it."
"So I can sell it or rent it out, Cal, it's fine; and then we can get OUR own new place, together." She pursed her lips, torn between being giddy at the concept and not wanting to move in just because of convenience. It didn't feel like that, though, nothing about their relationship seemed about simple utility. "Just think about it, okay?" he asked, looking at her seriously before a small smirk played on his face, "though I might have to point out that suitcase you left in the hallway a couple of weeks ago."
"Gotta bust my chops, huh, cowboy?" she said, laughing as he pulled her toward him.
"You give as good as you get, babe," he said, before his lips met hers.
Cailin wouldn't admit it to anyone, definitely not anyone up in IU, but she was bored to the point of breaking. Sitting at a desk all day, with the occasional visit to some scumbag in interrogation, not even being allowed down to the cage…she was intensely jealous of not only her co-workers, but everyone getting back to work at 51. Which now included everybody but Shay and Severide. It was looking less likely that the vivacious blonde paramedic would return to her beloved ambo, but she refused to talk about it, remaining optimistic, even as it became increasingly tinged with sarcasm.
Kelly Severide was being such a Grade A jerk that Erin decided to return to work full-time, her anger outweighing her worry over her fireman. Which ramped up Cailin's anxiety that Voight would realize that anything she brought to the tram was redundant. She wanted to be back on full duty already, but the blast had undone some of her healing and she was back to PT and the cane.
Not to mention she knew something was going on with Jeff, his normally quiet demeanor going practically silent since returning to truck 25 up in Roger's Park. At first she attributed things to the after-effects of the blast. Both of them plagued by nightmares and the other residual symptoms of PTSD rearing its ugly head; but they were working through it, together. Except something kept nagging at her and she hated the wall he seemed to be putting up between them.
Finally, one night when they were silently lying in bed together, Clarke pretending to read a spy novel and Cally scrolling through her phone, she had had enough. "Talk to me, Jeff" Cailin begged, her eyes filling with tears, unable to handle the distance she felt between them.
Clarke sighed, setting his book on the nightstand before turning towards her, taking in her expression. His shoulders slumped, weighed down by grief and what felt like an existential crisis. "I keep thinking about Newhouse," he replied finally.
She mirrored his sigh, her hand reaching out to cradle his jaw. "You did everything you could, babe, you aren't a doctor!"
His chest rose as he took in a big gulp of air, garnering the courage to say what had been wiggling in the back of his mind since his combat medic days. "But what if I am supposed to be?" Cailin looked at him quizzically but didn't remove her hand until he propped himself up in the bed. "Back in the day, after my first tour, I thought about med school. Had a buddy over there whose wife was going through it, we traded some tales whenever we were on leave. I always knew I was just throwing a bandaid on bullet holes, but I always wondered it would be like to do more than just that, to actually heal and save…" he trailed off, his eyes also turning glossy.
Cally waited a long beat before speaking, allowing him the space to get lost in history. "What stopped you?"
He shrugged, "Lisa wasn't ever into it, hard to earn a paycheck and be in med school."
"God forbid she help support you," Cailin mumbled, knowing full well Clarke could understand her.
He smirked, "that too, but that's all water under the bridge now, isn't it?' He adjusted his pillow, lying back down.
"Why?" she asked, pulling herself upright even as he sunk back into the bed.
"Why what?" he asked, his brow furrowed quizzically.
Before she could think through the consequences, the words tumbled over her lips, "why couldn't you be a doctor? Gabby was all gearing up for med school before she decided to become a candidate. You have to have as much experience as a paramedic, they aren't getting shot at...usually," she finished with a wry grin.
Clarke ticked off the reasons on his fingers, "Gabby is a decade younger than I am, med school is expensive, I just became a Lieutenant, we barely see each other as it is, I'm not going to ask you to support both of us-"
His words broke off as Cally swung her legs to either side of him, gripping his arms and staring deep into his eyes. "I am not listening to nonsense. So what you are older than the typical med student, you have life experience, as a Marine, as a firefighter...that has to be worth more than doing keg stands as a spoiled undergrad! As far as expense, don't you still have your GI bill? And while I am super proud of you becoming a Lieutenant, you and I both know that life is short and there isn't space for regrets. If you want to do this, we will make it work, even if I have to sit for the Sergeant's exam and take a desk job!" Her nostrils flared as she finished, her jaw clenching as she waited for his response.
"You would be a nightmare at a desk job, babe," Clarke finally replied, cracking a smile before pulling her down so their lips could meet, flipping her over in one deft motion.
Tangled in the sheets sometime later, Clarke stroking Cally's back as she nestled into his side, he cleared his throat before saying, "you really okay with this? You don't think it is just some crazy trauma induced idea?"
She looked up at him, blowing her hair out of her face. "So what if it is? Can't hurt to look into it, see what's possible. I want you happy, Jeff, I don't care if it is wearing a bunker jacket or a white coat. Besides, can you imagine how estatic my mother will be if I end up with a doctor?"
"Well as long as Mary Margaret is happy," Clarke replied with a laugh, already running scenarios is his head.
Chapter Six: Back to the Flames
"You working or looking up Barbie's dream house, Callahan?" came a sarcastic voice behind her.
Cailin jumped, she was looking up real estate listings, though she and Jeff hadn't really done much beyond her moving her five boxes in the day after he suggested it and painting the condo. With the prospect of Jeff going to medical school, a lot of things were far less settled than they had been.
"Starting to feel like I should be looking up glue factories," she said, tapping her cane on the floor and clicking off the webpage, "happy to work if you have something I am cleared to do, sir."
"You ain't a damn lame mare, and we've talked about the sir thing," Voight said, shaking his head. He hated her looking at him with those damn big baby blues like someone had kicked her puppy. He much preferred feisty, fighting to keep it under control Detective Callahan.
Though both had their uses, and he was hoping to exploit that. "I gotta couple of kids trying to act like big shot 'bangers who saw more than they should have but Dawson and Halstead almost made them crap themselves and now they've clammed up. I need their info now, nice it out of them, would you?"
It didn't take her long; a couple of cans of soda and some candy bars, alongside sweet talking them and reassuring they weren't about to filmed for Scared Straight and soon enough they were pouring out their entire life histories.
If she hadn't heard it all before it would have been heartbreaking. Though she also heard enough to know that if anyone out on the streets knew what all these two had just given up, they would be dead before they made it back home. Which is how she ended up in a screaming match with Voight over his reluctance to put them under police protection.
"Jesus, no wonder Belden complained about you being a pain in the ass!" Voight roared when she didn't budge from in front of his desk, arms crossed over her chest.
"Come off it, Voight, it isn't like you haven't hustled other kids out-of-town and we won't even go into the pet projects of your past," she shot back, giving him a look.
Over the past couple of months, the friendship between Erin and Cailin had blossomed, both using each other as confidantes; a sisterhood formed in their male dominated workplace. Erin and Cailin were both taken aback by how honest they were with each other, talking freely about their pasts, professional struggles and fears about the future. So she knew plenty about Voight taking in the wayward younger Erin. "I'm just asking we hold them here for a bit until we can see what social services or their families can do to get them out of Vice Lords territory."
Voight worked his jaw, not liking her insinuation but admiring her gumption, it looked more like an IU detective. He was concerned over how much information she had gotten out of Lindsay, further proving his distaste for females being partnered. "Fine, you want to babysit, babysit; but let me remind you how much you've bitched about being stuck doing so in the past and I'm not calling in any favors for those two knuckleheads. You gotta figure it out yourself, smarty pants."
"Fine," she said, knowing it was the most she was going to get out of him.
She exited, taking note of everyone forcing themselves to look like they hadn't been eavesdropping. "Oh just stop it, all of you. I've been up here for a couple of months practically chained to the desk, and every single one of you has gone more than one round with him. If you think I am going to KO so easily-"
"I actually got an idea," Atwater spoke up, causing all the attention to turn his way.
"Of course you do," Ruzek muttered under his breath, still adjusting to not being the new hotshot in IU.
"I'm open to anything," Cally said, glaring at Ruzek before moving to sit next to Atwater's desk, "whatcha got?"
Atwater shrugged, looking slightly abashed, "so most of the people I grew up with, they didn't want to get out, but I did. Or I did once I did this thing after I got picked up trying to steal a pair of Air Jordan's. It's like this wilderness thing to teach independence and responsibility and stuff."
"Are you telling me you were an Outward Bound kid, Atwater?" Cailin said, giving him a knowing smile.
"If that's what you want to call it," he said, taking in her smile, "anyway, I still got my instructors number, he's one of the directors now, if you want it."
"I would kiss you if it wouldn't make the rest of these mugs jealous," she replied with a wink, "give me that number stat."
A couple of hours later she had the two wannabes ready to be shipped off to the Minnesota wilds for the next month and was trying to not smirk too much at Voight's sour look at her quick solve.
Erin stirred the pot further, flashing her dimples at her mentor with a "stop looking like someone pissed in your corn flakes, Hank. You got your info and two kids are getting a second chance, thought you liked when that happened," before flitting off to dinner with Kelly.
Cailin was on her way home when a text from Jeff made her alter her route, stopping at Molly's instead. She broke into a broad smile, seeing him sitting at the bar sipping on a pint, but stopped short as she spied a familiar figure slumped next to him deep into a bottle of wine. Her eyes caught Jeff's over the brunette's head, but he just gave the slightest shake of his head and went back to drinking his beer. She looked at Hermann behind the bar, but he avoided eye-contact, pretending to try to find something on the television.
"Gabs, what's going on?" she asked, sitting next to her friend and pouring her own glass of wine. "Did something happen with Matt?"
Gabby shook her head, taking a long drink of wine before saying, "no, he's okay."
Cailin waited patiently, she had been with Antonio all day, so she was guessing it didn't have anything to do with the Dawson family…
"It's this," she said, finally, pulling a letter from her pocket, unfolding it and dropping it on the bar.
Cailin spied the familiar letterhead from HQ. "May I?" she asked, gesturing towards it. Gabby nodded.
Cailin picked up the letter, wondering if Gabby had somehow been DQ'd since the blast. She scanned the letter, information jumping out at her. 'Must accept position as candidate or repeat…Austin slot filled…'
She set it back down and looked at Gabby sincerely. Her friend had less than a week to find another house to join as a candidate or she would have to go to the back of the line and start all over again. To make matters more complicated, her spot at Austin had been filled. She wasn't shocked the jerks over at Austin had gotten someone else in, certainly male, but she was ticked they hadn't at least called Gabby to give her a heads up. She realized both Hermann and Clarke were staring at the two women, wanting to know what was going on.
Gabby shook her head, hiding in her glass of wine, gesturing toward Cally. "She has to start as a candidate or it's back of the queue and Austin gave her spot away. HQ needs to know where she's going by Monday."
"What about 51, we're still running short," Hermann suggested.
Clarke gave the other Lieutenant a look, "band-aid fix, Hermann, besides Boden wouldn't go for it."
Gabby's expression went from hopeful to dour as she turned from man to man and then finally gave Cally a look.
But Cailin had to agree with her guy and not just because he was her guy; it would be a very temporary fix and one that probably wouldn't fly.
She was about to attempt to placate her friend when Clarke spoke up again. "Apparently two shifts were more than enough for the candidate on my truck, he wasn't really about scrubbing toilets and showers."
"And they don't even see as much action as the ones at 51," Cailin muttered, causing Gabby to sputter wine across the bar.
Clarke gently squeezed her thigh under the bar while Hermann glared at the now laughing women as he mopped up the bar. "My point is, I got a candidate spot that could use filling, but no special treatment, Dawson."
Gabby's face lit up, a smile spreading across it, "really, up in Roger's Park?" She practically bounced off her seat, almost launching herself at Clarke to give him a hug until she saw him tense. She skidded to a stop, forcing her expression to one of seriousness. "That would be excellent, Lieutenant, sir," she said with a salute.
"You don't need to go that far, Dawson," Clarke teased, raising his pint toward her and hitched his thumb toward Cally, "despite this one's beliefs, I am not a drill sergeant."
Gabby settled on hugging Cally, kissing her on the cheek and saying, "I'm going to head home and tell Matt the good news!"
"Let me call you a cab first, Dawson," Hermann replied, pointing at the empty wine bottles.
"Did you know what that was all about?" Cailin asked after the cab picked Gabby up and they sat finishing their drinks and she caught him up on her day.
Clarke shook his head. "Nope. Hermann called me looking for you or Shay when Dawson came in like that and started drinking straight from the bottle. She wouldn't say a word to either of us."
Cailin hooked her leg around his, moving her bar stool closer. "Thanks for doing her a solid."
"She'll make a great candidate. I gotta be fair though, and depending on how Saturday goes, it might not be a forever fix," he said, giving her a look.
Cailin knew what he meant; he was taking the MCAT this weekend, which he had been fervently studying for. She gave him a grin, no doubt in her mind that he would knock it out of the park "wouldn't want you any other way, cowboy. Now can we go get some food? I'm starving."
"Good thing I was already cooking dinner when Hermann called then, huh?" he replied, giving her a little grin.
"You might just be a keeper, Jeff Clarke," she replied, leaning in and kissing him.
"Ah, geez, would you two take that out of here? I don't want you scaring away the regulars," Hermann teased from behind the bar.
The pair mock glared at him saying, "We are your regulars," before happily complying and heading home.