Chapter 10 Heath and Healing

P O V: Gabriela Dawson

A/N: Would anyone want an alternative version of this fic? One where Sylvie didn't die? —Ty for all the love.

"I don't want to live anymore.

Shay's words haunt my subconscious. It's been years since I've heard those words. Fuck, it's been years since I've heard her say anything at all.

I miss her voice.

I miss her smile

Laughter, her cute little snort. I miss her wisdom, hugs, crazy drunk ass antics, and those late-night talk cuddle sessions. I missed making love to her when we were both drunk with broken hearts. I need my best friend. She would know me how to snap me out of this haze. Hell, if she were alive today, I wouldn't be lying here curled up in a ball hooked to IV's restrained. A broken shell of the woman who used to hold me up in pride.

Matt and I would never have broken up over this. She would have played peacemaker opened up a bottle of wine and made us talk; she wouldn't have budged. She would have had some earthly hippie inspirational shit which would of either struck something inside of us or drove us so damn crazy that we would have made up just to shut her drunk ass up.

Brett and I would have never fought because Shay would've knocked my egotistical ass down a few pegs.

I would've been forced to pay attention Shay would have seen the signs. There had to be signs, didn't there? No one wakes up one day and says today I want to die. No one wakes up decides today is the day I am going to eat my gun.

So how did I miss the signs again? How could I let this happen? "Miss Dawson?" Looking up through my pink lachrymose eyes. I see Dr. Bekker standing beside my bed, her hand gently laying on my hip. Even with the five blankets on me, I am still freezing. "Why so formal Ava? We're friends, call me Gabby." "If that's your wish, hon." "Yes, please give me some normalcy in this fucked up day."

"Gabby, I am here if you want to talk. I know this is shocking, sudden trauma. These types of death catch us, and we think we will never be able to breathe again. They can affect us far after we think they should. Even years after we've rebuilt and moved on. Even those of us who are used to seeing the unthinkable, unmentionable in our everyday life. It's even worse, of course, when it happens to someone we love."

Her words bring me back to eight years ago, the image of Darryl blowing his brains out in front of Shay and myself. Blood splattered everywhere over the walls, my shirt, Shay's stunned speechless rendered mouth, widen eyes.

"If you had only listened to me Shay, he would still be alive! We could have saved him! God damn it, I am the P. I. C. You take orders from me!"

My angry words cause a sharp pain to pound across my temple. Small moans escape me as I roll over, feeling exhausted. Tears fall painfully down my cheeks as I clutch the pillows, which are plastic and hard. Why do I always take things out on the ones I love the most? When will I learn? I couldn't see how badly Shay had been hurting first Darryl, then my blame, Devin robbing her apartment, everyone piling their guilt on her.

I saw the signs back then the all-night partying binges, sleepless nights of drinking till she puked or passed out cold whichever came first. Her reckless sleeping around with any chick protection never on her mind. She was showing up late for shifts, her weight loss the chain-smoking, her mood changes.

Did I ignore them back then why? Because my damn pride was hurt. Because I was waiting for her to apologize instead of just being a man and doing it myself. I never dreamed it would lead to Shay pulling a gun to her temple. Severide's words still haunt inside my mind.

"I don't know what went down between you two. Quite frankly, Gabby, I don't give a rat's ass. You broke Shay Gabby. You did no one else. So get your head out of your ass and go to her. She needs you, her best friend. Go before it's too late."

"Gabby?" I blink back against he tears seeing Ava's worries fixated on mine."I'm keeping you for 72 hours of observation, this can be voluntary, or I can and will commit you to be held as a precaution to keep yourself and your family safe."

It's pointless to tell her I am fine, not when she heard all about how I help a gun to my head. Sane, rational people don't do that, do they?"Is there anyone you would like me to call?" "Does heaven have a phone-line Ava?" she smiles sadly at me, squeezing my shoulder. "I wish baby girl; I wish every-day." I wonder briefly who she wants to call? We've never heard her talk about her family. "I need to tell them how sorry I am Ava, how will they ever know?" "Because they know you, Gabby, they know your heart, and they know what type of person you always were."

"I know you feel physically ill, and I get that you feel lost, numb, terrified, angry at yourself, at God at everyone who let you down. I'm here to help you help yourself. Love lives on Gabby. You have to let yourself feel that love, stop letting the self-blame interfere. Hold Sylvie and Shay close let their essence remind you they are always here. They're your angels now. I know it seems otherworldly, but it may just help you. I can't tell you the times it's helped me remember I am not alone, blaming yourself for someone else dies. There's no guilt like it."

I can't stop the tears as they cascade down my checks. Her arms embrace my trembling body. Rocking me gently in refugee, "Can you please call Stella or my brother?" "Of course, sweetie. Whoever you need, I'm going to give you a shot of Lorazepam, and it'll help relax you, sweetheart, just lay back close your eyes. You're safe now baby I got you."

"Gabby, will you consent to be admitted for psychiatric treatment for at least 72 hours, or do I have to commit you? We both know you are not walking out of this ER tonight, not after putting a gun to your head." I nodded, taking a deep breath, "I need help Ava, I know I do. I don't want to die. I have so many reasons to live, I just need help, to get my health right. I can't do this on my own anymore. I need to heal. Even if no one ever forgives me. I need to find a way to forgive myself." "Gabby, there's nothing that you've done that needs to be forgiven; you are not to blame for Sylvie's actions; she could have asked for help. She didn't. You are a stronger person already from this moment right here, because you chose to live, to ask for help. Life starts again right now, take a deep breath and keep repeating that when shit gets hard. Because each exhale cleanses out the negative and allows positive fresh air to be inhaled."

Ava's voice starts to drift in fragments as my eyes grow heavy, my breathing tight. I can only hope she's right, we all have battle scars mine feel so deep I don't know if we can find a tourniquet tight enough to stop the hemorrhaging.

My last vision before sleep claims me is of Sylvie and Shay holding hands watching over the earth; they both look forever eternally beautiful with lacy white dresses and golden wings their dancing on clouds laughing.

I wonder if heaven is that peaceful. I hope it is they deserve it. They deserve to be queens of heaven's gates. "I love you both," I whisper before I can't feel see or hear anything anymore.