When the sunlight started to fade into dusk, Kelly suddenly realized he was cold. The air was crisp in the absence of the sun's warmth, and his shorts and t-shirt were damp with sweat. Shivering slightly, he realized he had no interest whatsoever in walking all the way back.

With only a vague idea of where he was – at least a couple of miles north of the firehouse, but he had no clue how far west – he sighed, pulling out his phone. As he opened a rideshare app, however, his fingers suddenly locked up.

I'm not ready.

His chest felt tight when he thought of going home, so he slowly returned the phone to his pocket. He walked a couple more blocks until he came across a pub. It was quiet, heated, and sold both alcohol and food, so it met all of his criteria.

He ordered a burger and beer at the bar, then settled in at a table as far as possible from everyone else. Slowly sipping his drink while waiting for his meal, his growling stomach reminded him that he'd been too grumpy for breakfast.

He'd left his phone on, and it vibrated against his hip. Checking the screen, he smiled softly when he saw a text from Casey.

"Are you coming home tonight?"

He texted back an affirmative answer, feeling slightly guilty that he wasn't looking forward to seeing his boyfriend. Casey was going to want to talk about things, though. There was no way he would ever let something like this go.

And Kelly did not want to talk about it.

Not even a little.

Ravenous, he dug into his burger as soon as it arrived. He ignored his phone buzzing on the table, wolfing down the sandwich before he dealt with social pressure.

The tsunami hit him as he turned his phone back over to read Casey's response.

"Damn," he swore to himself, fighting back unexpected tears.

The message simply said, "I love you. Let me know if you need a ride."

It wasn't the text that got him. Casey being Casey was not enough to make him cry. Maybe it was being warm and fed, or maybe the thoughts he'd been trying to outrun were finally able to catch up when he sat still. It was like all the air was suddenly sucked from his lungs. Distantly, he heard himself gasping sharply as he struggled to inhale.

Following the initial wave of emotion was a flood of unwanted memories. He struggled against it, but felt himself being pulled back to the first few days at the cabin, where he'd done nothing but replay the call over and over in his mind, even going so far as to draw sketches of everything he remembered.

It had never made sense. Until this moment, he'd convinced himself that was because of his own arrogance. It had taken almost a week of analysis before he'd been forced to accept the ugly truth – Shay's injury was his fault.

His.

Only his.

Kelly closed his eyes, leaning back in the chair. Nausea bubbled in his gut, and he covered his face with his hands.

He remembered doing the same when the trauma surgeon sat him down, wielding a clipboard full of consent forms and a stern frown.

He felt the curious eyes of the firefighters across the waiting room, silently scorning him while waiting for an update on Shay.

With trembling hands, he composed a message to Casey, naming the pub and asking him to come. He struggled laboriously to breathe, trying in vain to mimic Clarke's box breathing strategy.

The hushed voice of the surgeon rang in his ears. "... brain may continue to swell ... failure to support the cervical spine … if she survives … possibility of complete paralysis … muscles that control breathing, swallowing, speaking … long-term feeding tube … wean sedation to check for brain activity …"

His face burned again at the memory of his coworker's stares. It wasn't enough to fail, he failed Shay.

He remembered stumbling down the hallway in search of a restroom or closet, any place he could hide when the gravity of what he'd done finally forced him to his knees.

Goosebumps prickled Kelly's arm at the memory of Casey's hand on his wrist, and he sharply shook his head.

"Not real," he muttered to himself, aggressively rubbing away the touch. I'm not there. I don't have to relive it.

But the memory was real, and he'd never come so close to facing it. Casey had never mentioned it, in all the months since then. Kelly cautiously allowed himself to explore it now. Replaying the moment slowly was like holding back water with his hands, so he watched it repeatedly in real time, carefully memorizing every detail of one of his all-time lowest moments.

I can't ever be that guy again.

He shuddered, protectively wrapping his arms across his chest.

The empty metal cart clattered loudly against the floor, punctuated by Casey's startled grunt as he just managed to catch his balance. Kelly turned and fled after shoving his boyfriend down the hall; in the present, he struggled to hold himself still in his chair. He couldn't run from a moment already cemented in time.

"Stay away from me," he remembered snarling, sick with self-hatred as he stumbled away.

He didn't want Matt to stay away anymore.

He'll be here soon. I'll be okay.

He trembled, thankful for bar patrons less meddlesome than at Molly's. His arms and legs felt cold again, even as his face warmed more and more.

He remembered fleeing to his dad's cabin with nothing but the belongings in his car, his only coherent thought that Casey and Shay would be better off with him gone. There wasn't much to reflect on from the first few days – he'd passed the time drinking, crying, and agonizing over the call. Nothing in his analysis had given him the slightest hint of arson.

Over time, guilt had become his primary driving force. It drove him to get out of bed each morning, giving him something worthwhile to do with his day. He lived with it in every moment, thinking of hardly anything else. Shay's injury was his fault, just like Andy's death, just like the years Casey wasted on loving Kelly when he could have had a family with someone else.

Gagging from the nausea, he pressed his napkin against his mouth. All of those things were true, yet untrue. Without Kelly in his life, Casey might be married, with children of his own. Or he might not be – nothing was guaranteed. Nonetheless, he had chosen Kelly over that potential future. Kelly reminded himself of that, trying to calm his queasy stomach.

He could have saved Andy, if he'd been even a little bit less stubborn. That simple fact would haunt him forever. But he hadn't known, and if he had, things would have been different. It was a horrible miscommunication, but not entirely his fault.

That didn't stop his childhood best friend from appearing regularly in his nightmares at the cabin, reminding him that without Kelly, he never would have been in harm's way. It had taken nearly two years, but he'd finally allowed himself to imagine Andy's death, torturing himself with the knowledge of how painful it must have been.

Andy would have been pissed. That knowledge made him smile.

He and Beth were still working to sort out the confusing web of thoughts and feelings he'd become entangled in during those six dark weeks. The only thing that had kept him alive during that time was his guilt, but he still lacked the capacity to verbalize why.

Nonsensical as it was, that was part of the problem now, he reluctantly admitted. If his armor of guilt was threatened, what would he live for?

He was grateful to be alive, and his day-to-day life offered countless moments of joy. He no longer wanted to die. But he had chosen to live with the sole purpose of stewing in his guilt. What if his damaged mind presented him with the choice again?

He rested his elbows on the table, burying his face in his hands.

Nothing makes sense.

He felt betrayed by his own brain. He knew his thoughts weren't logical, but that frustration only made things worse.

Stupid. I'm so stupid. Why didn't I just go home with Matt?

The bell above the door rang, and Kelly quickly looked up. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of Casey, standing in the entrance with an expression of anxious concern.

Kelly stood slowly, and Casey swiftly crossed the room. The blonde stared at him worriedly, visually sweeping him top-to-bottom for signs of distress.

Kelly smiled cautiously, hoping to assure him he was okay. Casey did not look even a little bit convinced.

"Hey, angel," Kelly greeted softly, taking his boyfriend's hand. "Ready to take me home?"

He tried to sound playful, but his cracking voice didn't even convince himself.

His boyfriend nodded wordlessly, wrapping a protective arm around his waist.

"I love you," Kelly whispered. "I'm sorry I ran. I love you."

Shaking his head, Casey lightly kissed his cheek.

"You did nothing wrong, and I'm proud of you for texting me. I love you too."