Chapter 27: Fire and Smoke
The case IU was working had them running down a couple of knucklehead suspects dealing in fake handbags and real prescriptions all the way to Detroit, where they barely caught them before they crossed into Canada. While it also led them to a few other unsavory characters, it meant that Cally didn't get the chance to catch up with Clarke later, as he was on shift before she even got the chance to stop by the condo again. And even then it was only to grab some clean clothes and a quick shower before heading out with Antonio to set up a fake buy of Oxy in bulk.
She sent Clarke one more text before heading out to the meeting spot, hoping to share more than a shower with her fiancée sometime soon.
Clarke gave a smile at the text from Cally, hoping he was going to actually get the chance to see her when this shift was over, and for more than a few minutes in the shower. While he enjoyed that time, he knew how easy it was to get disconnected when you were separated, even if just by work schedules and not an ocean.
"I know that smile, tell Cally hi," Gabby said, finishing rolling the hoses, "I really need to catch up with her." Clarke looked at his candidate, happy the storm clouds from her eyes seemed to have lifted. "Yeah, you two should. You can commiserate about useless grooms-to-be."
Gabby laughed, "That is in no way the case for either of you, I am sure. Matt and I should really have you over for dinner, show you the new place and take advantage of the patio before it is covered in snow."
Clarke cleared his throat as Jones and Johnson walked by. Knowing that none of 102 fraternized outside of work, other than Department sanctioned events. He had heard more than one bit of grumbling about how the Lieutenant and the Candidate seemed close. At least Jones had spoken up when one of the guys from the engine tried implying they were a little too close. "Sounds great, Candidate, now how about you run some tool drills with Johnson here, I've got some paperwork to catch up on.
Hours later, after the paperwork and drills were completed and too much sitting around, a call finally came in. They pulled up to the scene, a wood-framed flophouse already engulfed in smoke when they arrived, the derelict block not interested in calling attention to their illegal activities. While this neighborhood was rapidly gentrifying, it still had its pockets, and this was definitely one of them.
"A want a fast sweep, make sure everyone is out of there. We're going to need water on this quick. 102, try to find some hydrants that haven't been vandalized, 25 make a sweep and make it quick. Ambo 56, stand-by and keep a close eye on the rig before someone tries to walk away with any of our supplies," Captain Davis barked out.
"Jones, Johnson, take 4 and 3, move quick and if it gets too harried, pull the hell back," Clarke ordered, "Dawson and I will take 2 and 1 and whoever is done first will see if there is basement access. Candidate, stick to my side and low and go, you hear me?" he said, knocking his knuckles on her helmet before pulling his gloves on.
She nodded, adjusting her facemask and preparing for what lay ahead. She missed 51, not just because of having been there so long, but also because it was a much busier house. She knew she shouldn't wish for more fires, but she didn't bust her ass through everything with the academy to sit on it up in Rogers Park every shift. "Got it, Loo, let's do this."
The fire was much more pronounced upon entering, smoke having completely filled the structure. It was hard to tell the point of origin as Jones and Johnson literally disappeared upstairs, a smoke screen seeming to swallow them.
"We're going to need to water soon, Cap, and maybe another alarm," Clarke barked, surveying the scene as Dawson started busting open doors yelling, "Fire Department, call out!"
They had cleared the second floor when the order came over the radio. "Truck 25, retreat," Davis barked, the flames overtaking the structure at a rapid rate, the ancient dry wood an instant fuel source; the angry fire quickly climbing out of control.
Clarke looked up the stairwell, counting off the precious seconds until he saw Jones and Johnson appear, a coughing elderly man between them. "Get him out now. How far did you get?"
"Think we got everyone. Old guy says landlord has kicked most people out, wants to sell the building," Johnson replied as Jones went on ahead with the man.
Clarke nodded, turning around, not seeing Dawson, the smoke making it impossible to make out anything. Captain Davis repeated the call to retreat.
"Candidate, we have to go," Clarke barked, finally catching sight of Dawson.
"No, wait, I heard something," Gabby argued, moving further into the interior, further away from him even as Johnson and the engine guys moved in the opposite direction.
"Help us!" they both heard from below. The small studio apartment hadn't been visible or accessible form the front stairwell, only seen know because of the gaping hole in the floor of one of the units.
"Ma'am, hold on," Gabby said, "I need you to get low. You said 'us', who is with you?"
"My baby, you have to save my baby!"
Gabby and Jeff locked eyes through their masks; both wanting to make the save, even as the fire raged around them and their Captain's orders grew increasingly incessant over the radio.
"We can pull them up; I know we can, Clarke!" Gabby pleaded.
Clarke looked around, listening to the building, knowing it was already fully engulfed and that their Captain had made the right call. They shouldn't be in there; the fire needed fighting from the outside. "One try, Candidate and then we retreat," he said, Gabby immediately unfurling the harness.
Clarke looked around for something solid to attach it to, spying an ancient gas stove in the apartment they were in. He hooked it around the leg, gesturing for Gabby to start lowering it.
"Ma'am, we're lowering a harness down, I need you to step through it so we can pull you up."
The woman was too hysterical to understand. She was young, still probably in her teens, and most likely high as a kite, given the flophouse status of the building. "My baby, my baby," she just kept chanting, shielding her infant from the flames.
Gabby lowered the harness down, the top half of her torso leaning into the studio below, trying to assess the situation and calm the woman down. "We're going to get you out of here, I promise."
Clarke sense the fire as much as he saw it, sucking back, preparing its next strike as the rest of 102 vented the building, following protocol, but unfortunately feeding the beast.
In one instant the flames drew back, giving Gabby false hope as she threw the harness down, dangling over the edge with it.
And then the strike, the flames rushing over them like a waterfall of fire, desperately seeking out the oxygen to fuel itself. Clarke instinctively crouched down, making himself small, letting the wave of fire wash over him. Until he saw Gabby, caught off guard, instinctively wearing her paramedic hat instead of her firefighter helmet. She pitched forward, over the side of the hole in the floor, clutching desperately at the harness line with one hand, still reaching toward the woman and her infant with the other.
Reflexively, Clarke reached out and caught her own arm as it clawed at the wood floor, his palm encircling her wrist, trying to wrench her back up, but she fought him, bucking, trying to reach the victims.
"I almost have them…" she yelped, reaching.
Clarke felt his shoulder straining and giving out. He reached down with his other hand, yanking on her bunker jacket, leveraging his last bit of strength to pull her back up to the same floor as him, the flames dancing around them, glowing, dancing, and mocking.
"No, no, I can get them, Clarke!" Gabby pleaded, thinking of how her hand had brushed the woman's shoulders.
"Stand down, Candidate!" Clarke ordered, seeing the look of desperation in her eyes, "we are retreating, now!"
"But I promised!" Gabby pleaded, rushing back to the edge.
"I said, stand down!" Clarke called again, forcibly grabbing her arm and holding it as the building groaned, showing her toward the door and the stairwell.
They attempted to climb up, toward the ladder outside the third story, but the stairwell was completely engulfed. They headed down instead; the temperatures so high, it felt like their face masks were melting. Clarke knew they were racing against time, a building this fully involved, this old, was likely to collapse at any minute. He could hear the groaning, feel the shifting, the old girl didn't have much left in her. Luckily he knew the exit was only one flight more down, except, "Damn it, Dawson," he screamed, as Gabby made a quick turn and bolted right toward the side stair and the studio.
She stepped in, seeing the young woman, still hysterical, still curled around her child. She rushed toward them, ripping off her helmet and clamping her mask over the woman's face, ordering her to breathe deeply, ignoring the smoke the rapidly entered her lungs, the heat overtaking her in seconds. The woman fought her, so wrought she was with panic; unable to see what was happening or who was touching her.
Clarke was about to cross the threshold when the entire building seemed to shudder, as if throwing its hands up in defeat. The ground seemed to crumble beneath them, what once was solid turning to air.
Once again, Clarke fisted Gabby's bunker jacket, drawing her back, his right shoulder already screaming in pain as it was once again stretched beyond its max. He felt the pop, knew the tendons were giving away as easily as the floor beneath them was. They tumbled back out into the stairwell, as the studio collapsed into the basement. He dragged Gabby down what was left of the staircase, only realizing once they emerged outside that she was not wearing her mask and was not responsive.
"Come on, Dawson," he said, slapping gently at her face, "don't do this to me." He looked up and around wildly, "Brett, Chout, get over here NOW! Dawson is down."
Chapter 28: Crossfire
"Detective Callahan, this is Sylvie Brett, from Ambulance 56 at the 102," came a hesitant voice over her cell phone.
Cally's heart stopped, there was no way this could be good. She froze in font of Antonio's desk, where they were burning the midnight oil finishing up the paperwork from the prescription drug case. Nadia, refusing to go home, perked up immediately, seeing the detective go pale. "What is it, Brett?" Cally barked.
Antonio smiled at her, wondering not for the first time how such a forcefully angry voice could come from such a blonde, innocent seeming package. Even knowing a lot of what she had been through didn't fully explain it, especially since he had seen Callahan cut loose, had seen her lighten up since getting with her fireman.
"There was an incident at a scene, we just got to Lakeshore and Lieutenant Clarke wanted me to call you and Lieutenant Casey. You and Detective Dawson should probably get here if you can."
Cally started to ask more questions, but she realized the other woman had already hung up. Was Jeff okay? Wait, she supposed to call Matt or was that what Sylvie Brett had hung up for? What about Gabby? Something must have happened to her if Matt was getting called and she was told to bring Antonio. She wavered, bracing herself against Antonio's desk, her legs feeling not so solid.
"Cal, what is it?" Antonio asked, looking at her with concern.
Cailin shook her head, "We need to get to Lakeshore, now."
"On it," Antonio replied, already pulling out his keys.
She waited until they were in the car before she said, "we were both supposed to come. Something happened at a scene." Her thoughts zeroed on Lakeshore. It couldn't be that bad, if it was a major trauma, they would have been sent to Chicago Med. At least she desperately hoped and prayed that was the case.
Antonio got them to Lakeshore in record time, Sylvie Brett still finishing up the paperwork; but unlike 51, the rest of truck 25 wasn't waiting anxiously in the waiting room. Only Captain Davis was there, seeming more annoyed by the incident than anything. He waved his paramedic over and told her to fill Cailin and Antonio in.
"Hi, I'm Sylvie," the blonde said bobbing over. Cailin couldn't help but think she looked like a mini-Shay, down to the wide, blue eyes. "It's nice to meet you…well not here, but in general, this isn't where i would have wanted to meet you, but Lieutenant Clarke talks about you all the time."
Cailin cocked an eyebrow, desperate for the woman to tell her something and thinking she was more of a puppy than even Mills was the first time she met him.
"Well as much as he talks at all, which is not really, but Gabby, I mean Candidate Dawson does and-" Sylvie Brett finally broke off taking in the expressions on both of the detectives' faces. "I can't tell you much more than I did on the phone, Lieutenant Clarke was conscious and responsive, he probably dislocated his shoulder. Candidate Dawson inhaled a large amount of smoke and was unresponsive at the scene, though after resuscitation and oxygen, she regained consciousness. Doctors are treating them both now. I'm sure they'll be with you both soon."
Antonio set his jaw, forcing himself to remain strong, thanking Brett before going to call his parents.
Cailin nodded as well, only realizing Matt had also arrived when he snapped, "Clarke was supposed to make sure she never got hurt, it's the only reason I let her go up there!"
She looked at her friend dumbfounded, as did Brett, who hastily finished up her paperwork and headed toward the exit.
"He's not God, Matt, she's a firefighter, and she is going to get hurt! And let her? You aren't her keeper!" Cailin replied, her voice growing louder, confused as to where Matt's venom had come from.
Cailin would have kept on berating him, if the doctor hadn't stepped out. They both looked at her expectantly. "Detective Callahan? Lieutenant Clarke is asking for you, this way please."
"What about Gabby?" Matt asked, glaring at Cally as his he clenched and relaxed his fists over and over. "The attending should be right out, sir, we'll be right with you."
"Come on, let's sit down, Matt," Cruz said, having been assigned to drive his Lieutenant as he went tearing out of 51 after Brett's phone call. Everyone was raring to go once Matt said something had happened with Gabby, but they had gotten their own call out.
"I don't want to sit, Cruz, I want to know that Gabby is going to be fine when Clarke was supposed to be watching out for her, she is just a candidate."
"I am sure he was, buddy, just like I am sure Dawson is going to be fine; but Callahan is right, we are going to get banged up every now and then, and Gabby knew that when she signed up, she's been around the firehouse for how long now? Being pissed at your friends, no, your family isn't going to help anyone. So how about we just wait to hear what the doctor has to say first?"
Cailin followed the doctor back through the maze of treatment areas, where she drew back the curtain, revealing a querulous looking Clarke, soot and sweat covered, sitting on the edge of the exam bed, still in his bunker pants and boots, right arm in a sling.
"Jeff," Cailin said, her voice cracking, her heart a little along with it. Sure she had seen him bumped and bruised before, including the burns after the building collapse, but then she had been with him all day.
Part of her was relieved, having built up a thousand horrible scenarios in her mind, but the other part of her knew every last drop of dread he must have felt after she got shot. She rushed up to him, stopping short of touching him, not wanting to jostle him and cause him more pain. He looked like he was in plenty already.
"Come here," he said, reaching out with his left arm to pull her in, needing her right next to him. Not giving a damn as the hot poker of pain raced down his arm and shoulder.
"What happened?" she asked, burying her face in his neck, wrapping her arms carefully around him, wetting his skin with tears of both relief and concern.
Clarke rested his chin on the top of her head, feeling her hot tears mix with the soot and sweat, knowing exactly what she was thinking, her swirl of emotions; he had felt them just as acutely after the shooting. He inhaled deeply against the top of her head, wanting to be strong for her, wanting to convey that everything was fine, that he wasn't going anywhere. He kissed her golden blonde crown saying, "I'm fine, Cal, I promise. Just wanting for an MRI to make sure there isn't a tear. Separated my shoulder at a scene today, that's all, it happens."
"That's all?" she exclaimed, moving quickly back, her head snapping up as she half-glared at him. "Did you forget who you are talking to? I know bumps and bruises and sprains come with the territory, but shoulder injuries? Separations? Those only happen with a high impact fall or trying to yank someone up. So which one is it, cowboy?" The term of endearment as much a warning that he better not be cowboy-ing it up too much. Her brain caught up with her heart… Gabby, smoke-inhalation, Jeff's injury. "You had to catch Gabby, didn't you?"
He shrugged, instantly regretting it. "We were trying to make a save."
She knew by the darkening of his eyes that they hadn't. It happened, not very often, but it did. And she knew he took it personally, felt it deep down in his core. Every firefighter did, but Jeff especially so; driven to make up for all the saves he didn't make at war, and after…
She moved forward again, her hands finding his sullied face, ignoring the tensing of his jaw as he tried to brush it off, stuff his emotions down. "I'm sorry, Jeff, I am so sorry," she said, pulling him to her chest; working against him as he tried to withdraw from her grasp, finally breathing again when he relaxed against her, more of a collapse, taking in her scent and strength.
The attending came forward, looking at the three men in the waiting room, two in CFD uniforms, and one with a badge prominently hanging on a chain around his neck. "Family of Gabriela Dawson?" he asked, his gut telling her they all were.
Matt and Antonio stood at the same time. The doctor looked at them both a long beat. "I'm her fiancée," Matt explained, knowing Antonio looked related.
The doctor nodded before speaking. "Ms. Dawson suffered some severe smoke inhalation as well as some burns on her face and neck. Those are all first-degree, thankfully, more like a bad sunburn. The smoke inhalation was enough that she did lose consciousness at the scene. With oxygen therapy, she was alert when she came in. However, we made the decision to sedate her and place her on a ventilator until her stats come back up. We still need to assess and make sure there is not any permanent lung damage. Luckily, she was removed from the building and treated quickly; I suspect she will make a full and expedient recovery. You may see her, though she probably won't be very responsive."
Antonio nodded, awash with relief; he knew his little sister was strong, and if the doc said she would make a full and expedient recovery, he knew she would be better than new in no time. He noticed Matt still looked furious, wondered for a moment if he had misinterpreted something the doctor had said. "You go, Matt, I'm going to wait for our parents, they should be here soon."
Matt followed after the doctor, storm clouds following behind him. He couldn't quite figure out why he didn't feel any relief at the doctor's words. He also didn't know why he was filled more with rage than concern or fear. All he knew was that the second he heard the paramedic from 102 call and tell him that Clarke told her to call, he had been unable to quell the wrath building inside of him. This was why he hadn't wanted her to go through with the academy. This was why he had hoped she would stand down after her ankle got hurt. Or after Jones killed herself. Or after the building collapse. He had even hoped that his injuries would dissuade her from powering through.
Secretly, he was overjoyed when Austin gave up her spot, had hoped it would finally be enough of a deterrent for her to go back to being a PIC, or maybe even re-think about going to med school. But then Clarke had to swoop in, like a damn knight in shining armor and save the day. He tried to be all right with it, her up at the 102, out from under his watch. Clarke had been a great firefighter, quick on his feet, industrious, head down and job done, driven, the perfect Squad guy. Plus, he had been in the USMC; so he should have been a great Lieutenant. Not to mention his oldest friend had been saved, in all senses of the word, by him.
So Matt had sucked it up, told Gabby to follow her dream, had played the supportive role. But it didn't stop the constant feeling of almost possessiveness, that if she wasn't under his watch that something like this would happen. Clarke wasn't as invested as he was, period. And now Gabby was lying in a hospital bed on a ventilator because he had trusted Clarke to keep her safe. And Matt wasn't sure he would be able to forgive either of them for that.
Chapter 29: Fire Water Burn
Matt's anger did not subside as he followed the doctor to the ICU, a nurse stepping aside as she finished checking Gabby's stats, saying, "her pulse ox is coming up nicely, shouldn't be hypoxic for much longer. Pulse is strong, blood pressure stabilized. She's still fading in and out, but I think that is more the sedatives."
"Thank you, Caroline. Lieutenant, I'll leave you two alone for a few minutes. She should be able to hear you, but might not respond."
Matt clenched his teeth and fists, trying to will the anger away, holding himself together long enough for the doctor to leave the room before moving to Gabby's beside, gripping her hand and flaring his nostrils. "Damn it, Gabriela. You aren't supposed to get hurt!" he snarled. He felt the slight flutter of her hand in his, looking down as her eyelids also fluttered open.
She attempted to raise her head, looking at him with glassy and confused eyes.
"Shhh, don't move, baby, just lie there," he said, his anger, at her at least, dissipating as soon as he say those chocolate brown orbs. "You're going to be fine, you got hurt at work because Clarke-" he broke off as she attempted to lift her head again, the monitor picking up the increase in her pulse and blood pressure. "You're okay, you're safe, I know, I know, just lie back, the doctor says you are doing great."
Gabby felt like she was swimming under water; but in a nice warm, dark ocean. Almost like the underwater caves by her abeulita's. Something kept nibbling at her, an annoying fish she couldn't swat away. She just wanted to sleep, but wasn't sure if she should and she kept thinking she was seeing a baby at the bottom of the cave and was frustrated she couldn't get to it. She kept reaching, reaching; finally it grabbed her hand, now she just had to make it to the surface…
She opened her eyes, seeing familiar blue ones looking down at her. That look, the one of concern tinged with…was that annoyance? Anger? Where was she? Where was the baby? She tried to raise her head but Matt gently pushed her back down. Why did she still have a SCUBA mask on? Was her certification still up to date?
Finally, her ears caught up along with her memory. The fire, trying to reach for the mother and her baby, the woman fighting her, Clarke telling her to stand down, catching her before she fell, defying his orders, the flames rushing over them, that feeling again of falling, down, down…but she was safe, Matt had just said so.
But what about Clarke? He had saved her life at least once today, but was he okay? She struggled to sit again, trying to grab at the tubes holding her back, trying to figure out where that incessant beeping was coming from, fighting Matt who wasn't letting her up. Suddenly, a figure in scrubs appeared at her side, a needle in hand, reaching for the tube coming from her arm and again, she was back, diving down into the warm embrace of that deep blue ocean…
"You should go, sir, she needs to remain relaxed and resting so we can get her off the ventilator," Caroline said, giving Matt a very pointed look.
"I don't need a wheelchair," Clarke protested, growling at the orderly.
Cally couldn't help but let out a hollow chuckle. "Shoe's on the other foot now, I'd say," she retorted.
Clarke glared at her until he saw the cloud pass over her eyes. He took a breath, working his jaw before saying, as calmly as he could muster, "except I didn't get shot, Cally."
Cailin still looked slightly wounded as they rounded the corner to the MRI suite. "You can wait right here, Detective, this shouldn't take long."
Cailin nodded at the orderly, looking at the ominous tube inside the room. "Consider me glued to this spot. Love you, Jeff," she said, leaning down to give him a quick kiss.
"I'll be fine," he replied, "promise." He didn't like look of worry clearly displayed on her face, knew she was fighting so it didn't show.
Cailin nodded, chewing on the inside of her cheek, knowing Jeff Clarke did not make promises he wouldn't do everything under the sun to try to keep. She did remain rooted to the spot, watching through the window as his upper half disappeared into the tube, trying to see in to where the doctors were watching the monitors. She knew this was nothing, but she still found herself struck with the worry of what if, or what about next time; not to mention she wondered just what had gone on at the scene. It hadn't escaped her that Jeff hadn't revealed any information about what happened during the call-out, but there was something in his eyes…
Clake lay there, listening to loud clicking and clanking of the mechanical beast he was in the belly of. Frankly he wouldn't be surprised if he did more than dislocate his shoulder, the second go round of hauling Dawson's ass up had sent a wave of pain through him that he hadn't felt since the darkest days over there hauling up some boot milliseconds before he got taken out by a insurgent sniper. He knew if there was a tear, he would be on leave for a few weeks at best and at worst…well good thing he was in already in med school.
He certainly hasn't planned on becoming a company man for the department when he first signed up, he didn't even consider it when he came back, he figured he would be in Squad until he got too old to do it anymore. That was the Squad way, lifers until the ivory tower put you out to pasture.
But, like so much in his life since first laying eyes on the haunted but attractive blonde, things changed. Clarke knew Cailin hated being protected; never the one to play the damsel in distress. Except something in his very core demanded that he save her, that he be there for her. That need, combined with hearing and later meeting the great Connor Callahan had altered his career trajectory. Originally it had been with taking the Lieutenant's exam, planning on working his way up to the ivory tower. Then it further altered with his decision to enter med school and move away from fires completely.
Previously he didn't think he could handle making the calls that might end somebody's life. Doing that during the war had been enough to break him, those ghosts still haunted him, probably always would. Now, with Cailin at his side, he rediscovered his strength and knew he would be able to make the right call for the right moment, whether as a firefighter or as a doctor.
Which is why he had told Dawson to stand down, her defiance was unacceptable as a candidate, but from a paramedic's perspective he could completely understand her actions. However, as her lieutenant, he couldn't condone them. But what was the appropriate punishment? She was already dealing with the physical consequences. No mater how he tried, Clarke couldn't push the image of her unresponsive face out of his mind or his fear that he was some how responsible, that as her CO, he was responsible.
He should have dragged her out of the building when he told her to stand down, he knew that look in her eye, had seen it in the mirror more than once, that inability to listen to orders or reason when you had the chance to make the save. Despite seeing her come to in the ambulance, despite Brett's overly enthusiastic supposition the Dawson was going to be "just fine", he still worried.
He knew Casey was probably wearing a hole in the tiles of the waiting room, his gut probably rolling with anxiety and anger. Clarke had felt all that and then some back the day of the shooting. He knew his fellow Lieutenant would professionally understand that their job was dangerous and accidents happened, but Jeff wasn't sure that the other man would personally be able to forgive him for putting his girl in danger...even if it was her own defiance that got her there.
"You can sit up, Lieutenant Clarke. I'll be right in. Should I ask the Detective to wait outside or.." The doctor trailed off.
Clarke cleared his throat, "Nah, she should be in here, seeing as we're getting married in a couple of months, for better or worse and all that."
The doctor let out a slight laugh. "In that case congratulations and we will both be right in."
Cailin stood, still afraid of getting too close of jostling Jeff, of causing him any additional pain. She could tell by the way he as holding himself that he was fighting back large amounts of it.
Clarke studied Cally out of the corner of her eye, leaning toward him and then quickly adjusting her weight away, chewing on the insides of her checks, forcing her face into a mask.
Both looking intently at the doctor, breath held until she spoke. "Your shoulder dislocation has been successfully reset, however the inflammation from that is clouding the results, I can neither confirm nor deny if there is a tear. If there is no tear, it should heal fine on its own. If there is a tear, we may have to do surgery depending on how large it is. Regardless, your healing will take time and patience and you won't be running into any burning buildings anytime soon."
Clarke worked his jaw, digesting the information. He had started med school for a reason and had been exceling at it. But something about his firefighting career being put on hold, if not over was still hard to swallow. "How long and I am going to be riding the pine for, best case scenario, Doc?"
"8-10 weeks, I know that might feel like forever. And no heavy lifting and keep that wing in the sling, if you want to marry this one not still wearing it," she said with a look of warning.
"Yep, shoe is on the other foot for sure, cowboy," Cailin quipped, forcing herself to sound chipper despite the less than comforting news. She knew the CFD was Jeff's backup plan, he had been outperforming all expectations in med school and she had no doubt he would make an amazing physician.
Clarke was able to give a small smile, "yeah, well I expect you to be as much of a hard ass as I was."
"I'll do my best," she replied, carefully leaning in and resting her forehead to his. "Damn it, Jeff, don't scare me like that, again okay?"
They heard the doctor clear her throat behind them. "I'll get someone on the discharge papers." She studied the pair for a moment. "And I'm going to guess you are going to refuse a wheelchair?"
Clarke's raised eyebrows and Cailin's slight snort were answer enough.
Chapter 30: Fires of Yesteryear
Clarke finally discharged, Cailin juggling his paperwork and turnout pants, the couple strode through the waiting room, close but not touching as both worried about the 'wing in the sling'. They stopped short seeing Matt Casey pacing, Cruz sitting, head resting on hands resting on knees. Cally felt her breath hitch, stopping completely as Matt charged toward them.
"You, how could to let this happen? This is your fault, Clarke! Just because you passed the damn exam-" he charged toward them, Cruz jumping up at the same time Cally cut in front of Jeff, feeling the heat radiating off of both men.
"How is she?" Clarke asked, his voice almost hollow, Cailin could tell he was struggling to keep things under wraps, trying to diffuse the bomb that was Matthew Casey.
"In the hospital because you didn't protect her!" Casey's voice cracked at the same time Cally could feel Jeff's resolve breaking, and with it, her patience.
Matt lunged forward, Joe grabbed his shirt, Jeff's progress blocked by Cailin throwing down the items she was holding, full Mama Bear mode on. "No, Gabby's here because she got hurt on the job, a dangerous job. Things happen, Matt, even when you make the right call, people die!"
"Don't you dare bring up Darden, Cally, you lost that right when you didn't come home for his funeral!" Matt's eyes were daggers, so were his words.
Instinctively, both Cruz and Clarke stepped back, sensing the storm that was building had nothing to do with them. They caught each other's eye, at the ready if they needed to step back in.
Cailin felt her face flush, with both anger and shame, though slightly confused as she hasn't brought up Andy Darden's death. "I couldn't, I was-"
"Undercover, hiding in New York, like you did since graduation day!" Matt snapped, years of resentment he didn't even know had existed clawing its way to the surface.
"I was working and you know damn well Heather wouldn't have wanted me there!"
Matt sneered, "yeah, well did you ever think about what Andy might have wanted? What I wanted or needed?"
"Well you weren't exactly on a plane to New York either when I needed you, were you, Matty?"
The air was electric, anger filling the space between the two old friends as their old wounds ripped open. They were stopped only by footsteps coming up behind them, the four in the waiting room turning to the trio entering.
They stared expectantly at Antonio, flanked by his parents; tears streaming down Mrs. Dawson's face, but her smile from ear to ear. "She's awake and asking for you, Matt, you should get back there."
Matt's relief was clear, sticking his hand out to Antonio, a hug in return, one last glare at both Cally and Clarke before booking it toward ICU.
The elder Dawsons collapsing in chairs, hugging each other, prayers of thanks being uttered why Antonio took in his teammate and the other two firefighters. "Why do I get the feeling I missed something?"
"Because we all did," Cruz muttered under his breath.
"How's the shoulder, man?" Antonio asked, wisely sidestepping.
Clarke gave a curt nod, "Remains to be seen. But I saw how much fun the two of you had in PT, I thought I'd give it a go."
"Smarter to do without getting shot," Antonio joked before his eyes turned serious. "Look, I've known my sister her whole life and I know how head strong she can be, so thanks for whatever happened today, I'm sure you had her back."
"Part of the job," Clarke replied, turning the mask back on again.
Cailin took it in, her own emotions leveling out, clearing her throat, "keep us updated, will you 'Tonio? I should probably get this one home."
Antonio nodded, understanding, pulling the pool vehicle's keys out of his pocket. "Will do, Callahan. Take care of home first, just let Voight know."
Cally reached out, taking the keys. Antonio caught her wrist, gave her a long look and said, "Casey isn't thinking clear right now, Cal, just keep that in mind."
"You planning on telling me what I missed back there?" Clarke asked as Cailin set him up in the bedroom, fluffing his pillows, moving him to the opposite side of the bed so his arm would be better protected.
"When you tell me why you didn't tell Casey it was Dawson's fault that you got hurt," she replied, her look telling Clarke she had pieced together things on her own.
Clarke studied her, standing at the foot of the bed, arms crossed over her chest, her eyes full of worry, slightly haunted. He didn't want to press, but he did want to know why Casey's words seemed to get under her skin so quickly, so deeply. He had heard about Andy Darden, not just because of the Darden boys being under foot while their mother was caught up in legal woes. Severide had told him about the scene where Darden had died, a part of the other man still holding himself responsible for the tragedy that had occurred. He knew that Severide was best friends with the fallen firefighter, but something jogged in his memory, Casey had grown up with Darden and that meant...
He felt Cailin's weight carefully settling beside him on the bed, slowly adjusting so as not to jostle him.
"Andy moved to Mount G when we were in 7th grade. He sat across from Matt, damn if those nuns didn't have us in alphabetical order up through high school graduation," Cally said with a laugh and a far away look in her eyes. "It was that awkward time, one minute Matt and I were like we had always been, climbing trees, telling tall tales, fighting like siblings; the next second we didn't want anything to do with one another…" she trailed off, "it was right before things got really ugly between his parents, things were rough; both his parents were drinking too much, Christie was always gone. Andy's parents were separated, he and his mom moved here to move in with her parents. I think he and Matt bonded over the whole parents fighting thing." Cally shrugged, twisting her hair around her finger, her sweater hanging off her shoulder, wide-eyed, giving Clarke a window to seventh grade Cailin Callahan. "Andy's dad was a firefighter, which of course Matt also was excited about..." She paused, lost briefly in the memories.
She paused long enough that Clarke finally interjected. "He left you in the dust?" His tone light while his eyes held concern.
Cally shrugged, "whatever, I get it, my house was the escape, but I can see how the whole picket-fence thing could be annoying to him. Eventually they both let me back into their boys' club when they discovered girls and realized I made a great go-between."
Clarke sensed the undercurrent of bitterness and sadness in her words, though she settled her face into that careful mask she wore a little too well. He could see both sides of it, the need to have someone that understood only having one parent around, but he also understood being left out; his older brother practically had made that a varsity sport growing up.
She shook it off, rising off the bed and saying, "you should rest, can I get you anything?"
He looked at her, debating, knowing she could shut down just as easily as she could open up. Clarke worked his jaw, debating before saying, "yeah the rest of the story, Cal, because you and Casey looked ready to murder each other in the waiting room."
"Because it wasn't fair of him to blame you because Gabby got hurt. I'm not sure what all happened, but I know you, Jeff and I know you never would have made a call to put her in danger!"
"That may have been what started it, but that wasn't what spun you both out," he countered.
Cally wrinkled her nose, "ancient history." His snort said otherwise.
She looked at him for a long beat, overwhelmed by guilt and also by his obvious concern. "Andy and I may have secretly dated for a couple of years." She waited for a reaction that didn't come. "I kinda left things a little unresolved when we graduated." Another long stretch of silence, as Clarke laid waiting, much more practiced, his patience almost infinite. "I may have boarded the Lake Shore Limited without saying goodbye. To anyone."
Eyebrows raised with the smallest of smirks. No wonder Casey had been pissed. Clarke bet everyone had been. It didn't really surprise him that Cally had essentially run away, she hated big scenes, despised being emotional or the center or attention. No wonder she had to get plastered to plan their wedding.
He was still curious about that, though now was hardly the time to bring it up. "Bet that went over well."
Cailin gave an embarrassed shrug, hiding behind her hair. "My family only disowned me for about three seconds, I am the baby of the family after all. Matty eventually came around when he needed me to talk him through some girl problems and Andy...well, Heather was happy to quickly jump in and mend his broken heart."
Clarke worked to maneuver to pat the foot of the bed, wanting her to take a load off in more than one sense. He could tell something more was weighing on her than just a bad high school breakup. She sat with a sigh, still not saying anything. "Babe?" he questioned softly.
She frowned, "I did want to come back for the funeral; after I got Matt's message, I bought a ticket, was halfway to JFK in a cab. But..." Her breath caught in her throat, lost in time in those dark days after Doyle's death, finally cleared for duty and full of anger and hate and more than a few crippling panic attacks. "Special Vic's needed a female to go under on a trafficking case, I thought it might be linked to Nansenko, so I didn't make my flight." She didn't add it was unrelated and she blew her cover and the op by beating the crap out of their suspect when he slid his hand up her thigh. A forgiving and talented DA the only reason they still got a collar and she still had a career.
"So why didn't you tell Casey that?" Clarke queried.
"Probably for the same reason you didn't tell him the whole story about that," she pointed at his arm, "being his girl's fault. Matt Casey is great at selective listening and while I love him like a brother, he is awfully damn quick to judge sometimes."
Clarke laughed bitterly, "hadn't noticed." He let out a sigh of his own. "Dawson ignored my stand down order. After I'd already pulled her up once after she forgot she wasn't still a paramedic. I barely pulled her up again when the ground floor decided it wanted to join the basement, but she had already yanked off her mask..." He trailed off, kicking himself for letting her try for the save in the first place. "I wasn't about to blue falcon her on top of everything else."
"You wouldn't be throwing her under the bus, Jeff!" Cally retorted, wanting to shake him for his hyper loyalty even if it was one of the things she loved the most about him. "She was insubordinate to her CO. She could have gotten herself far more hurt, killed, you as well! Gabby needs to remember that while she might be an amazing and experienced paramedic, she's still a candidate firefighter!" Cailin could feel her anger and frustration growing at Jeff, at Gabby and at Matt.
"I should have known better, I should have known she would have gone for the save."
"You aren't psychic, Jeff!" Cailin said, really wanting to shake him now, stopping mostly because of his arm. "You can't stop Gabby from being Gabby, you can just help turn her into a bad ass firefighter. Assuming she has learned her lesson. But you need to tell the truth, if not to Brass, at least to Matt."
"I'll make you a deal, I will if you will. Casey should know the truth, and if he can't forgive you and let that go, so be it, better for you to know," he said, sticking out his left hand awkwardly.
Cailin looked at him, "and do what with that knowledge? Flush an almost 30 year friendship down the toilet?"
"It's his choice at that point, Cal."
She let out a small growl, reaching to shake his hand, pulling back as he winced. "Take a pain pill, would you, Clarke?" she said, climbing off the bed and gesturing to the bottle on his nightstand.
"You aren't going to let me get away with anything are you?" Clarke said, giving her a smile through the pain.
"I learned from the best, cowboy," she said, leaning over for a careful kiss.