Chapter 11: Fire Down Below

Cailin's heart froze as her eyes met Jay's.

"Oh look it's Mr. Scotch," Zuzanna said, narrowing her eyes at Cally, "do you know him?"

"Just from tonight," she lied, hopefully convincingly. Jay's appearance hadn't changed, which either meant his vest was on beneath his clothes or he wasn't wearing one. Cally didn't like what her gut was telling her. She hoped he at least had his service weapon, though his untucked shirt concealed any glimpse she tried to get.

"He was giving her trouble earlier," Ivan said, looking from Cailin to Frank, digging an elbow into Jay's side.

Frank shook his head, "everybody, go back to having good time, just a party crasher, nothing to worry about." He waved everyone off before coming over to Zuzanna and Cailin. "We'll sort this out in my office."

Cailin wasn't sure if that was better or worse, but just nodded, hoping to buy time. Ivan and the bear, who Cailin thought was named Alec, roughly escorted Jay into the office, disrupting the cigar smokers. Frank was on their heels, Zuzanna kept her grip on Cailin as they also followed close behind.

"Caitlin, you said you had boyfriend other night, this him, no?" Cally shook her head, thinking that wasn't the best way to play this, not after Frank's warning that her boyfriend never come by. She had a feeling if she admitted to breaking the rules, he would instruct Ivan or Alec to start breaking bones. "So you don't know him before tonight?" he pressed.

She caught Jay's eyes again, they were clear and focused, but beads of sweat were starting to form on his forehead. She desperately wished she had worked with him more, had some idea of what he was thinking and how they should play this. But he was smart and had Ranger training, so she was just going to have to wing it and hope for the best. "I don't think so, Frank, but you know these pretty boys, they all start to look the same after a while," she said with a roll of her eyes and a laugh.

This was enough to get Frank to laugh as well and get Zuzanna to drop her hand. Cailin refused to breath the sigh of relief she wanted to, they were nowhere near out of the woods. "What is your name, Mr. Scotch?"

Jay looked at Cailin for a long beat before sliding his eyes to Frank, "Kevin."

"You got a last name?"

"Hank."

Cailin gave a slight nod, Jay was telling her who was coming.

"Have you been in here before, Kevin Hank?" Frank pressed, looking from Cailin to Jay, still not completely sold.

Jay shrugged as much as he could, "probably, I think my friend Adam likes this place. Cute girls, strong drinks," he finished with a smile, playing it as cool as a cucumber, "and that's about it."

Three of them, three of them were coming; though with this crowd, they could use all hands on deck. Cailin was trying to do mental math in her head on how long it would take them to meet up and formulate a plan. How long had she been down there?

Apparently long enough judging by what happened commotion coming from the outside room could only mean one thing, the cavalry had arrived.

Things happened in quick succession: surprised yelps and screams from out front, Ivan's grunt as Jay elbowed him and the quick succession of fists meeting their mark as he unarmed him, the echo of the steel door being kicked open to whatever lay behind Frank's desk, Alec barking something to Frank as he rushed him through the doorway, Cailin fighting to free the revolver from her corset as she heard a familiar zing. She froze for the briefest of seconds, enough time for one of Zuzanna's hands to yank bank on her hair and the other arm to snake around her neck.

Once again, she found herself with cold, sharp, metal pressed against her jugular. But this time, the holder of the blade was a slight Polish woman with a three pack a day habit and Cally wasn't going down without a fight. She shoved both her elbows back, meeting with the women's ribcage stepping back at the same time, letting the heel of her ankle boot meet the delicate arch of Zuzanna's foot, surprised when the woman didn't drop the butterfly knife. But she had dropped her arm from around Cailin's neck and from her hair. Which was enough for Cailin to spin around, finally freeing her gun in the process it and point it at Zuzanna. "Chicago PD, drop the knife, now, Zuzanna."

Sadly, Zuzanna wasn't going down without a fight either. She lunged at Cailin, whipping the blade around with practiced ease. Cailin jumped back, her hand still wrapped around the trigger of the revolver, ducking as Zuzanna tried to slice and dice her.

"Drop it," Cailin ordered, even though she knew the other woman wasn't about to give up. She aimed, the bullet grazing the woman's shoulder, jarring her backwards despite its small caliber. The knife finally came loose, clattering across the floor. Cailin slammed her foot down on it, staring down at Zuzanna who was pressing her hand to stem the blood now flowing from her shoulder.

She looked up at Cailin with pure hate in her eyes, "you bitch, you shot me!"

Cailin looked down at her, anger replacing the blood in her veins. "I barely winged you and I told you to drop it. Plus, didn't anyone ever tell you to not bring a knife to a gun fight?"

A strangled bark of laughter came from Jay, who had finally wrestled Ivan to the ground and had cuffed him, his service weapon trained on the man as he moved over to the doorway behind the desk. "Crap, there's another staircase in here," he swore, seeing the room empty of any occupants. "Where does this lead?" he yelled at Ivan, moving back over to where the man was still prone on the floor.

"To your mother's house," Ivan said, spitting in Jay's face.

The door to the office burst open behind them, Atwater standing there.

"You okay?" Jay asked, wiping his face off, noticing Cailin still had the revolver pointed at the woman on the floor, though she was shaking like a leaf.

"I will be when we cuff her and find Frank," Cailin replied, cursing herself as her voice cracked.

"I'm going up," Jay said, gesturing as he went tearing off toward it.

Atwater moved next to Cailin, glaring at Ivan who was trying to get back up, despite being cuffed. "Callahan, I can't cuff her if you don't lower that revolver," he said, noticing how her hands were trembling.

"What?" Cailin asked, looking at him like he was speaking a foreign language.

"Put your damn gun down," he said again, reaching out toward her.

She stiffened before realizing she was still two-handing the gun. She dropped her hands, it dangling from her right hand, watching as Atwater made quick work of handcuffing Zuzanna and hauled her out of the office.

She followed after them, barely taking in the chaos around her. Her running commentary as she was wandering around earlier must have been heard, because SWAT had joined the party as well. While it looked like many of the 'guests' had gotten away, several of them were sitting on the floor with their hands zip-tied behind their backs.

Voight was nowhere to be seen, but Ruzek was working to try to convince some of the animals that had gotten lose to get back in their cages. A horrible screech sounded from above as a monkey went for Ruzek's head, in full attack mode. Cailin reacted with pure reflex, popping two rounds into the simian's body before it could meet its mark.

His eyes met hers, in both shock and wonder as she dropped the gun. "Are you alright?"

She nodded, her eyes glazing over, "except I just killed an endangered monkey."

"I wasn't asking about that, Callahan, I was asking about that," he said, pointing to the gash through her corset and the bloody wound exposed beneath.

"Just a scratch, I'm fine," she said, not feeling any pain even as she wiped the blood away. "Let's find Frank."

She made her way back through the office, to the anteroom; a room that Cailin now realized was a high-tech security room, not just of the Krok, but also Frank's other properties. Cailin took the stairs first, Atwater and Ruzek hot on her heels. They emerged on the side of the building; another door painted to look like it was part of the wall.

The building bathed in red and blue flashing lights, increasing as the alphabet soup of agencies arrived. The only law enforcement seemingly not represented was Voight and Halstead.

"There," Atwater said, pointing up the block where two figures hovered over a third in the middle of the street.

The trio ran up, seeing Voight doing chest compressions on Franciszek Kosowski, cursing up a storm. "You ain't damn well dying on me, Kosowski. You're giving me the info I need and then you are going to rot in prison, you sack of shit!" he swore as he kept pressing down. Halstead was barking on his cell phone, giving a description of the car Alec was driving as he dumped Frank's body out into the street.

They had to jump out of the way as the ambo squealed up, quickly loading Frank inside. Voight climbed

inside, pausing to look at his team. "I'm going with him to see what I can get. You all know what to do here, but then I want all your asses back at the precinct to sort through this mess." He stared directly at Cailin as he said this, his expression one that she couldn't entirely discern.

The scene was a mess, literally because of the stampede of people trying to get out and figuratively because of all the agencies fighting for a piece of the pie. Dawn was approaching as Cailin saw someone trying to haul two familiar faces away.

"Those two are coming with us," Cailin demanded, pointing at Ivan and Zuzanna, stepping in between them and the FBI Agent trying to haul them off, "the rest of them are all yours."

He looked her up and down, still in her 'uniform', with a CPD windbreaker Halstead had thrown at her. "And you are?"

"Detective Callahan, IU," she said, glaring at him.

"Wasn't sure, didn't see a badge, not sure how I could have missed-"

Her switch flipped, "listen here, suit, I've been the one undercover, gathering intel on your employer's request. I'm the one that knew tonight was happening and called it in. I'm the one that had-"

"Okay, okay, sorry," he said, holding his palms up, "thanks for all your help. You might want to get that looked at though," he said, pointing to her wound.

She looked down, realizing it was starting to throb as her adrenaline high started to ebb. "Yeah, I'll go do that," she said before looking around and seeing Atwater. "Hey, Atwater, help me get these two to booking, would you?"

The trio was up early, ready to get back to the city. Not that they hadn't had a good time, but there was only so much you could drink and fish, and Severide kept bitching about his ankle. Clarke bet that had something to do with the other man's realization that he let a good woman get away because of his own stubbornness.

They all had needed to get away, needed a chance to vent about things and not be reminded of the day of the blast with every boarded up building they passed. But Clarke would have much rather spent a weekend off holed up in the cabin with Cailin, he would bet every last dime in his bank account they wouldn't have left early.

"What are you grinning about, jarhead?" Severide asked from the backseat, Shay having claimed shotgun before they had even stepped out of the cabin.

"He's probably thinking about his girlfriend, about how he's going to-" Shay cut-off as Clarke glared at her, finishing feebly with, "show her how much he missed her."

Severide snorted, "whipped."

Shay scoffed, "you're just pissed because you can't hang on to anything worth having!"

"You're one to talk, Leslie," Severide warned, narrowing his eyes at Clarke's snicker.

The rode in silence, Shay messing with her phone before letting out a grumble. "Stupid girls won't text me back," she mumbled.

"As I was saying," Severide teased.

"Ha ha, very funny. I will have you know I have a blind date with an attorney next week!" she stuck her tongue out at him, Severide reacting by tugging on her hair.

Clarke remained silent, enjoying their bantering; it reminded him of siblings, of car trips with his brother, of what he could only imagine Callahan car trips had been like. Made him think about a SUV full of mini Clarkes bickering on the way to and from the cabin. Yep, proposing to Cally was the right thing, and he wasn't going to take no for an answer.

"Clarke, are you going to answer me or not? I think it is a fabulous idea and Kelly is being dumb, as usual," Shay said, rolling her eyes and sticking her tongue out at her best friend in the back seat.

"I don't have anything against Clarke taking Cally to breakfast, Leslie. I just don't want to have to deal with Voight and Lindsay and the weekly IU briefing!"

"Well if gramps here would learn how to accelerate, we could get there before the meeting!" Shay chided.

"Be nice, beautiful" Clarke warned, though he did press down the accelerator, trying to remember the last time he and Cailin had shared a meal.

Chapter 12: Walk Through Fire

By the time they were finished in booking and made it upstairs, Voight was already waiting for them, Erin and Alvin having joined him as well. Erin's eyes flicked over the four of them, all looking haggard, Jay and Cally more so. It was then she spied the rip in the corset, the drying blood a stark contrast against Cally's pale flesh.

She shot Hank a look, knowing he was ready to lay into his detectives. "Hey, Callahan, let's hit the locker room and I'll bandage that up for you and you can put on some real clothes."

Cailin just nodded, feeling a little like she was floating outside her body, exhaustion overtaking her. She followed after her fellow detective and friend in a daze.

"So how did this happen?" Erin asked, surprised Cally didn't wince as she bathed the cut in alcohol.

"Angry Polish woman with a butterfly knife," Cailin answered as Erin smooth down the bandage.

Erin stood back, crossing her arms over her chest. "Pretty sure Hank said stay out of the basement."

"Yeah, but I'm pretty sure Hank," she stressed Voight's first name, giving Erin a look, "wouldn't have let an opportunity like that one slide by either."

"He's pissed," Erin said.

"What else is new?" Cailin retorted.

She cracked a small smile, her dimples flashing briefly. "He's pissed because you stuck your neck out. You could have been killed, Jay could have been killed. He was worried about you and Hank Voight does not do worried, Callahan."

"I can take care of myself; we got Ivan and Zuzanna, and Frank, assuming he didn't bleed out in the ambo, didn't we?"

Erin let out a long breath, blowing her hair out of her face. "I know this is going to sound hypocritical given my trying to deal with Charlie on my own, but we are a team up here, Cally. It isn't like VC where nobody wanted you there, where they didn't have your back. You don't have to go it alone!"

"I saw a chance and I took it, Jay had my back, I was wired and broadcasting, all is well that ends well, right?" Cailin argued, even though her gut told her she had hot-dogged more than she should have.

Something came over her, what she had been afraid would happen if she joined IU, that it would be like two years ago in New York; when she was willing to do anything to take down the bad guy.

"Only if it ends well," Erin said, staring at her for a long moment. "We should get back upstairs."

Burgess was on her way in as they were exiting. "Heard you guys had quite the night. Eastern European mobsters going down!" she quipped, gesturing downward with her index fingers.

"Something like that," Erin replied with a shake of her head. Cailin didn't respond as she followed her up the stairs. Voight and Erin exchanged a long look as the two women came back in. She gave the slightest shake of her head to let the man know her warning had fallen on deaf ears.

Voight clenched his jaw, he had been hoping the two could have a girl chat and Erin would get through to her. He should have known better. Callahan was headstrong, stubborn, driven to a fault. So much like Erin that way, but also like him with her sudden outbursts of anger and impulsiveness. Despite her innocent looks, there was a darkness in her that emerged without warning. Controlled, it was useful, throwing perps offt guard. But when, like tonight, it surfaced without forethought, things could turn ugly, quickly.

"What the hell were you thinking, Callahan? Wait, don't answer that, because clearly you were not. You have a master's degree in this exact thing; did any of your fancy research tell you that the stunt you pulled tonight was good police work? Because it wasn't. It was stupid and dangerous and it could have gotten you and Halstead killed," Voight raged, pacing back and forth.

"I was fine, am fine," Halstead tried to protest, even though he had wondered for a few seconds while that gun and silencer had been pointed at him. He just didn't want Voight to lose it on Callahan, he recognized the look in her eyes, knew she was holding on by a thread.

"Beside the point, Jay," Voight snapped, glaring at him before turning back to Cailin. "What part of stay out of the basement was so hard to understand, Callahan? Of course you go down and crash Europe's Most Wanted's equivalent of the Met Ball. You better be glad Kosowski made it through surgery," he said, jabbing a finger into Cailin's shoulder, causing the slightest of growls to rise in her chest. He looked at her, seeing her expression go from slightly dead to feral. "Atwater, roll out the damn boards so we can see where we are in this mess!" he ordered, knowing he had pushed as far as he could with the blonde detective as he could for the moment. He wasn't done with her about this yet, though.

Atwater rolled out the white boards, covered with a mess of mug shots, names, dates and places on the two cases IU had been working. The link between the two became clear.

"Alec," Cailin breathed out, seeing the man's mug shot on both boards.

"Alec Vargo, first-generation American, fourth-generation gangster. While he was providing 'security' for Kosowski, his real game was moving up the ranks in his family's business, trying to expand their empire from New York to Chicago. Historically it was heavy artillery and automatic weapons, but it seems Alec has a taste for young girls," Alvin supplied, his eyes heavy and sad.

"Though he doesn't discriminate in his dealings. Girls, boys, doesn't matter, as long as they can be controlled and won't be missed," Erin added, shaking her head.

"How do you know so much about him, tonight was the first time I saw him at the Krok," Cailin said, looking back and forth between the two boards, a pit of dread in her stomach.

"Oksana used Alec to supply girls for some of Mykola's private parties," Erin supplied, her hazel eyes falling heavy on Cailin's blue ones, before turning to Hank, not so much asking permission, as she was warning him as to what she was about to say. He just narrowed his eyes, working his jaw. "He's been doing so for the past couple of years," Erin said, taking a step toward where Cailin was standing, staring at the boards.

Cally stiffened as Erin did so, the names and faces that she had assumed were familiar only because they were similarly foreign now trigging memories she had shoved deep down into the recesses of her mind. The buzzing started in her ears, a high-pitched live wire, blurring her hearing and vision. She closed her eyes, willing it away, following the rise and fall of her breath.

"He filled in for Mykola's former supplier," Erin said quietly.

"Nansenko," Cailin breathed out, her stomach churning, the world tilting. "How long have you known?" she asked, looking from Erin to Voight, thinking about how weird everyone had been acting. Everyone averted their gaze, remaining silent. "God damn it, Erin! You cannot give me some big speech on having each other's backs and being part of a team and not having to go it alone and then not bother to tell me that the bitch you are tracking has ties to someone who almost killed me and did kill my partner!" Fury turned her eyes to ice as her face flushed and her fists clenched.

Erin stood her ground, legs hip-width apart, arms at her own sides, ready to take whatever Cailin was about to dish out; knowing that while her friend may have started over back in Chicago, it didn't mean her wounds from New York had completely healed and while she may be the target, Cailin's anger wasn't actually at her. The men in the room froze, wondering if a catfight was about to erupt in the middle of the room, unsure if they should intervene. Voight finally decided he should, practically dragging Cailin to his office, jerking his head for Erin to follow before saying, "everybody else, get your asses back to work and find Vargo!"

Cailin struggled against Voight's vice grip until he roughly deposited her in a chair. "What the hell, Voight?" she hissed.

"I'm not letting you turn my unit into mud-wrestling night at Hawthorne's, Callahan," he said, perching on his desk in front of the chair he had set her in. "Everything Erin said was true, we are a team and you shouldn't go it alone. I was the one who gave the order to not tell you about Nansenko, so if you want to take someone's head off, come at me; but I will lie you flat. I was also the one that gave you an order to stay out of the basement." He glared at her as she opened her mouth to protest. "I know you had to get a psych clearance after you pulled a gun on that doctor, I'm starting to wonder if you don't need another one. Jesus, Callahan."

"You would have done the same thing," Erin said from where she was leaning against the doorway, carefully observing the exchange. She could tell Hank was beyond pissed, putting people in jeopardy, disobeying orders, jumping out of line in front of everyone…except these were all the same kinds of stunts he pulled all the time. And she knew him well enough that she could also see the perverse admiration in his eyes. Same reason he hadn't put her out on her ass when she fought back as a teenager.

He barely glanced up at her, a raised eyebrow showing his displeasure. "Beside the point," he said, looking directly at Cailin. "You are damn good at what you do and are a good addition to this team, but you have got to remember you are part of one. Shit like what you pulled last night will get you and other people killed and I've already been to too many damn funerals. I don't give second warnings, Callahan, follow my orders or get out of my unit. Understood?"

Cailin was surprised that there wasn't a menacing threat to his tone; in fact, it was more one of disappointment, mixed with something else she couldn't put her finger on. She knew IU was the only place that wanted her in the CPD and she wasn't ready to hang up her badge yet. She also knew that she did enjoy being part of the team, they were like 51 that way, more like family than co-workers. More than that, she knew she needed to be part of a team, this team. Not to mention she was feeling guilty and embarrassed. "Understood, sir, Hank, Voight," she corrected, her cheeks turning red. She craned to look at Erin, "I'm the world's biggest bitch."

Erin couldn't help it, she laughed at Cally's forlorn expression not at all matching her words. "Only when you need to be, Callahan. And we should have told you," she said, giving Hank a look, "but that is water under the bridge. And seeing as everyone is alive, so is what happened last night. So if you aren't going to sucker punch me, how about we go take down Vargo and Mykola?"

Cailin nodded, giving her friend a grateful smile. She owed her one, several, actually. She started to rise but Voight clamped a hand down on her shoulder.

"Not so fast, Callahan. Lindsay, go run the show out there while I debrief this one. Who is then going to see if she needs stitches," he said, pointing at the bloody spot on Cailin's shirt, "and then go home."

"Is that your way of telling me to go to my room and think about what I've done?" Cailin asked with a slight smirk as Erin snickered on her way out.

"Don't test me, Callahan. Now start from the beginning…"

Erin was in the middle of telling the rest of the guys what had gone down at her and Olinsky's meet the night before when Burgess appeared on the stairs, a familiar, if sheepish, male figure following close behind her.

"There's an FD Lieutenant here for Detective Callahan," she said, trying to avoid eye-contact with Adam.

Erin looked at Clarke with a close-lipped smiled before dismissing the other woman, "thank you, Burgess, I got this." The woman nodded, before practically running back downstairs.

Clarke looked around, notching both Cally and Voight were missing and his office door was closed. He tried to ignore the twist in his gut.

"Voight is debriefing Callahan," Erin said, gesturing with her head towards her boss' office.

"What do you mean debriefing Cally?" Clarke asked, his eyes pining Erin to her spot.

"Lieutenant, why don't we talk in here?"? she said gesturing to the observation room.

"Don't yank my chain, Detective, Cally's okay, isn't she?" Clarke asked, refusing to sit at the table even as the detective pulled out two chairs.

Erin looked at him a long beat, still choosing to sit, hoping he would mirror her actions because she wasn't the biggest fan of angry Marines towering over her. "Physically, she's fine, I think. She might need some stitches," Erin admitted, inwardly groaning as Clarke started to sit down and then jumped back up, heading for the door. "Clarke, wait, busting in on Voight is just going to make things worse for her," she said, pointedly.

"What the hell happened? I leave for a couple of days thinking she is just tending bar and, now what?" he said, his eyes a steel-blue flint.

"She was supposed to be just bartending, but the case got hot and she took an opportunity," Erin carefully replied. It was an ongoing investigation, and she didn't want to sell her friend and fellow detective up the river for jumping in without looking. "But that isn't the issue…her case tied with my case which has ties to New York, from a couple of years ago." Erin let the information sit on the table, hoping Clarke would do the math for her.

"To that bastard, I take it," Clarke replied, unable to say the man's name, a storm immediately rising in him. "Why does that case keep biting her on the ass?" he snapped, not expecting the detective to have an answer, just pissed off for Cally's sake.

"Luckily there aren't that many players in the big leagues, which means the same names keep coming up over and over again. She took the news better than I thought she was going to, especially considering we kept that little tidbit under our hats for a bit."

Clarke let out a bark of snide laughter, "oh yeah, I bet you she took that real well."

"Voight saved her from herself," Erin retorted. Clarke's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Don't look so shocked. I know you aren't exactly president of his fan club, but if Hank Voight lets you in and thinks you are worth a damn, he gets pretty damn protective."

"Am I supposed to be glad she's in this pack then?"

"There are far worse places to be," she said with a wry grin, "sit tight, Voight should cut her loose soon."

Chapter 13: Low Flame

Cailin stepped out of Voight's office, taking his tongue-lashing without flinching. She knew she deserved it; things could have turned out much worse than they did. She couldn't keep diving in headfirst like that. She had already made detective, she was already in with the best damn unit in all the CPD. Plus, she had a hot fireman who one day would be a doctor to come home to.

So why did she still feel like she had to prove herself and take stupid risks? Which was actually the gist of what Voight had to say. Sure he mixed in plenty of threats and gave her those reptilian eyes while giving her an administrative suspension for shooting Halstead's drop piece, but she was starting to piece together that he was also a little bit shaken by her rashness; as much as he could get shaken by anything.

She took in the silence of her IU teammates. "You can carry on, Voight didn't fire me, I'm still in IU, even if I am being sent home for three days," she said with a sigh.

"You've got a visitor," Erin said, motioning with her thumb toward the observation room.

She peered in, seeing Clarke sitting ramrod straight at the table, tapping his fingers against the top. She realized it was nerves he was worrying about her. She could see it clearly on his face, knew it had to be hard for him to be sitting in a interview room in a place where he had once been arrested. She practically yanked the door off the hinges. "Jeff," she breathed, cut off as he was already on his feet closing the distance between the two of them.

"Cally, what happened?" he admonished, even as he wrapped her in his arms.

She tried to not wince as she felt the wound Zuzanna had given her open back up, though he immediately noticed the blood on her, and now his, shirt.

"You're bleeding, is this what Lindsay meant about stitches?" Clarke said, reaching for the hem of her shirt.

"I'll be fine," she said, yanking it back down and stepping back, "even better if we can get the hell out of here before Voight changes his mind on not really being mad at me."

"No argument here," he said, following her out as she walked through IU with only the briefest of nods to the other detectives as she gathered her things.

"Lakeshore or Chicago Med?" Clarke asked as soon as they were in his car.

Cailin raised her eyebrows. "Depends on what we are talking about. Cafeteria? Lakeshore, hands down. Trauma surgery and nurses? Chicago Med. Why you thinking about your residency already?"

Clarke let out a small growl. "I meant where do you want to go to get that looked at," he said, pointing.

"It's just a scratch, Jeff. I just need to not re-open it every five seconds," she protested. He gave her a look, leading her to say, "I assume you brought Shay back with you. How was the trip anyway?"

Clarke nodded, "yeah, we all drove together. Fish stopped biting and Severide was being super whiny. None of that answers my question though, Cally."

She gave a half roll of her eyes, pulling out her phone and shooting off a quick text to her friend. The reply was almost immediate.

Yeah, I can look, but what the hell, Cal? You were just supposed to be going to breakfast!

She smirked before saying, "head to Shay and Severide's. No hospital needed when you have former Paramedic friends." Clarke's reply was another withering look, but he immediately change course in the requested direction.

"Eh, it isn't that deep," Shay said, surveying the wound. "Good thing you have good reflexes. It's just right where you bend, so you keep ripping it open. These should help," she said, applying several wound closures. "Which is too bad, because I was really wanting to use the skin stapler," she said, looking entirely disappointed. "I miss putting Humpty Dumpty back together again."

Cailin yanked out of her reach. "I'll try harder next time, Shay," she quipped, looking slightly horrified.

Clarke remained standing against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, his shoulders tense.

"What, you questioning my abilities, Clarke?" Shay asked, giving him a look.

Clarke worked his jaw, "I didn't say anything, Shay."

"You didn't need to, Mr. Simmering Rage. Just because I am not on the ambo anymore, doesn't mean I forgot what I was doing. She is fine, cross my heart. I wouldn't say so if she wasn't, she's my girl too, Clarke," she replied, batting her eyelashes.

"Who is sitting right here," Cailin grumbled, knowing Clarke's med school knowledge, even just a few weeks of it, was at play here. But he was stubbornly refusing to tell anybody about his academic pursuits. She had a feeling it was because he was fearful of failing out, but she knew that was highly unlikely.

Both of them looked at her with wry grins. "You should be fine in a few days, just keep a watch, make sure it doesn't get infected," Shay said, patting Cally on the shoulder, "and maybe try to make sure she refrains from anything too strenuous, like no hot air balloon rides," she finished, giving Clarke a knowing look.

"Shay," he warned.

"What is strenuous about standing in an oversized basket, other than worrying about plunging to your death?" Cally asked, her eyebrows knitting together.

Her two companions both laughed, which made her confusion turn to frustration. "Glad you two had a great time away together. Can't wait to hear all about. But could it be over breakfast because I've been up for a million hours and don't remember the last time I ate."

Shay and Clarke exchanged a look. "I'm good, had some yogurt, but you two should go and then you should get some sleep, Cailin. Take care of her, Clarke, I'm holding you to it," Shay said with a smile.

They arrived back at the condo after breakfast, Cailin practically dead on her feet. "It's not up to military standards, Marine. Didn't really have a chance to clean," she said, shrugging out of her jacket and pulling off her shoes.

"It's fine, Cal, I wasn't expecting you to. I know this case has had you running ragged. Can't say I'm too bent over your admin leave," he said, dropping the stack of mail he had retrieved from the box before mirroring her actions.

"Shockingly, I'm not either. Next UC case I take, I am going to tell Voight to stick it if he expects me to work my regular job on top of it. I don't know how you are managing to be both fireman and med school student and why is it you aren't telling your best friends about an important part of your life?" she said between yawns.

He smiled at her, moving closer and tucking her hair behind her ears. "I think I understood all that, but why don't you go hit the hay before you swallow your face?"

"Because maybe despite this crazy damn case, I still missed you and I know you have school and given my unexpected days off, I can sleep tomorrow, so I would rather spend time with you now," she rushed out, looking up at him, feeling the weight of the night, the case, the memories pressing down on her.

Clarke was torn. He knew she needed sleep, knew she hadn't been getting more than a few winks here and there since she had been on this damn case. But one look at those baby blues pleading with him and he was in trouble. He took a deep breath, steeling himself. "Just catch a nap now, Cal, I won't let you sleep too long, I promise and I won't go anywhere further than a run. It'll probably take that long for me to get through the mail," he said with a smile, gesturing at the stack.

"Very funny, babe. I would argue, but I'm too tired. Which I guess means you are right. You better wake me up though, and I want to hear all about whiny Severide when you do," she said, moving in for a kiss, both of them giving into it, until Clarke suddenly pulled away.

"Go, sleep, now, Cally," he ordered, his voice tinged with lust as he stepped back and pointed at the bedroom, willing himself to not follow her. Yep, he really needed to take her up to the cabin next time instead. Cailin complied, though she griped all the way to the bedroom. But Clarke knew her well and she fell into almost a hibernation as soon as her head hit the pillow.

Wanting to give her a chance to rest, and to prevent himself from climbing into bed with her, Clarke decided to go for said run. Arriving back awhile later, he hit the shower after peeking in to see Cally burrowed beneath the covers, dead to the world.

He emerged from the shower and surveyed the condo, deciding what to tackle first. It wasn't awful, it was just clear they both had been busy. And so maybe Cailin wasn't as fastidious as he was, but then again, few people were. He gathered the trail of towels leading from the bathroom, throwing in a load of laundry before starting the dishwasher. The fridge was full, including a couple of trays marked for 51 and 102. He shook his head, wondering how she had found time in between working nights undercover and days in IU to cook for two firehouses. But that was Cally; for as much as she liked to portray the tough cop, she had a heart of gold for the people she held dear.

He finished straightening, picking up the stack of mail and settling in on the couch to go through it. Most of it was junk, as it usually was, hence why they weren't hypercritical about checking it that often. Paper bills that had already been paid online, a couple of magazines, flyers for events they would never be able to get to, and a letter from Logan Correctional Center…

Clarke froze, placing the letter on the coffee table, carefully, as though it might detonate. Once again the timing just seemed uncanny. Except there was no way she could know what he was planning. He had just told Shay, the first person he had breathed a word to about it. Sure, he was planning on talking to Connor, but he hadn't yet. What the hell was she playing at now?

He forced his emotions under control walking to the desk to retrieve a letter opener to carefully slit the envelope open. He withdrew the paper, wondering what sort of Pandora's box he was opening. He held the paper between his thumb and index finger for the longest time, unwilling to unfold it. Clarke set it down on the coffee table in front of him, running a hand over his face. He had packed this away already, locked it up tight. He had moved on, he was happy with Cally in a way he had never known before. Which is why he squared his shoulders and grabbed the paper off the table, snapping it open. She wasn't not allowed to have any power over him anymore. His eyes scanned the tight, neat cursive on the page:

Dear Jeff,

I've been working a program since I got here and I'm writing to do what I can to set right the harms that I did not just when we were together, but even after. I'm sure that you were aware that during the years we were together I was an active addict. I am not saying that makes everything I did okay; in no way does it make me any less responsible for my actions. I used booze and pills and sex because to try to fill the emptiness I felt inside.

When we were together, I ignored you in favor of my friends, and I took you for granted. I withheld attention. I withheld affection. I withheld sex. I slept with other men to hurt you, to get back at you even though you never did anything wrong; and yet I always acted like I was the one that had done nothing wrong. I was inconsiderate, passive-aggressive, condescending, and cruel. I know that was wrong, and I'm sorry.

I know when you came back after your first tour I called you crazy, among other things; but know you weren't crazy, I was. You deserved love, honor, commitment, and every other thing I vowed. I couldn't give you those things because I was incapable of giving them. So instead, you got anger, disloyalty, unfaithfulness and abandonment. You are worthy and deserving of love then and now, it was I that failed you.

I failed you the entire time we were together, and even after. I wasn't honest that day I came to the firehouse. I heard you were getting close to someone, really close, and I was jealous. It wasn't that I wanted you; I just didn't want that detective to have you. I wanted control. I was so miserable and I couldn't stand the idea of you being happy, of feeling all the love that I couldn't. Which is also why I let you try to take the fall for Brian. I knew you would be loyal, honorable, courageous, committed…you always were. I know now she can give you what I never could.

I hope that you'll accept my heartfelt regret for these and the unlisted harms that I did to you. I know there is nothing I can ever do to make things right. My hope is that you get the life you always wanted, deserved; for you two to be free and happy, together, Jeff.

Sincerely, Lisa

He carefully folded the letter again, sliding it back into the envelope and sitting it in the middle of the table. Clarke knew all about amends, had known plenty of people that had worked the program. He was certain this letter hadn't been easy for Lisa, but it did little to right the wrongs between them. She was correct in saying there was nothing she could do to make things right. At least he had the truth now, the truth he has always suspected. Except that didn't change anything, didn't stop the pain and heartache he had caused Cailin in those dark days after…He shook his head, before resting his elbows on his knees, lost in thought. Be free and happy, she had said; well he had been, since the day Cailin Callahan walked into his life.