A/N: Thank you all for the reviews! I wanted to know if the short-ish chapters were okay, or if you'd like me to make them longer/combine them? Let me know!
Casey grabbed his essentials from his quarters and left in his truck towards their apartment. It had been weeks, seeing that going home was going back to haunting memories of happier times, of lively times. He sat in his truck for several minutes once outside the building, waiting to go in, waiting for the courage he needed to go in. It never came, so instead of fearlessness, he was going in like a child scared of what lay in the dark of their closet.
The apartment was quiet, the air stale as he tossed his bag on one of the dining room chairs. He expected Gabby to be on the couch with a glass of wine, waiting for him to come home. When the reality hit that she wasn't there, that she may never be there again, he lost it. Collapsing in tears, he sobbed for the first time since he found out she may never wake up, letting out the pent up sadness and anger as he screamed for the woman he loved, wishing she was there to hold him and tell him that everything was going to be okay, that things were going to get better. He cried for the future together they may never have, the family that was lost because of his decisions and actions that day. He blamed himself despite the nagging at the back of his mind telling him none of it was his fault.
He didn't know how long he laid there, tears running dry and the sobs dying into small whimpers. The sky was dark outside, the noises of the neighborhood dead in the night. He stood, the chair his crutch as he got his legs working again. Making his way to the bedroom, he used the wall to guide him, eyes tired and head pounding. When he got to the bedroom, he stripped down to his boxers and laid on the bed, pulling the sheets up to his head and curling up with her pillow, smelling the lavender of the shampoo she used.
Sleep did not come easy for him, tossing and turning throughout the night, waking him from the nightmares that constantly plagued the time that was supposed to be peaceful and turning it into torture. The infernos and the screams and the fear and guilt and blame his mind embodied as demons waiting in the flames. It was far from peaceful when he woke up, a scream building in his throat until it tumbled out in one blow of realization hitting him yet again. It was a constant bombardment every time he tried to do something, anything, that she wasn't there, that she wasn't going to be there. And every time that blow came, so did the grief and guilt and blame he felt.
At five in the morning, he decided he couldn't take it anymore, getting up and getting changed into sweat pants and a CFD hoodie that hung delicately among Gabby's clothes. He didn't touch them, didn't dare move them in fear that they would slip away and all that would be left was the emptiness he felt embodied in the closet. As he closed the closet, he turned and sighed, wanting things to be the way they used to be, to not feel the way he felt. He pulled out his phone, wanting to call somebody, but not being able to push himself to do so. Instead, he walked to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of beer, laying on the couch with it, hoping that it might numb him enough to sleep or to stay calm.
He didn't know how long he had laid there, numb, until he opened his eyes and was blinded by the sun shining in through the window. He pulled himself up, grabbing his keys and pulling on his tennis shoes. He was groggy, head cloudy, judgement still not too clear, but still knowing what he wanted and what he was doing. He stumbled out to the truck and started it up, going to the hospital.
He arrived and took the route he knew all too well to Gabby's room. When he arrived, he sat in the chair that knew him all too well and held the hand he'd held a thousand times before, and half of them had been in this room with the machines and the chill air and the silence. He still didn't believe it, hoping that she would be awake when he visited. But each time, he was let down when he saw the tubes still hooked up, the heart monitor showing an artificial beat.
"How're you doing?" Kendra asked from behind him, putting a hand on his shoulder. He shrugged.
"Not good," he admitted. "It's hard, seeing her like this. I wish there was something I could do to change this." He sighed, closing his eyes.
"It's been four weeks, Matt. It doesn't look good." He turned and looked at her.
"She never gave up on me, I'm not going to give up on her," he told her, turning his back to her and facing Gabby again. He didn't want to go that route, had hope that things would change in her situation, but that's all it was - hope. He heard Kendra leave, breath caught in his throat. A part of him knew Kendra was right, that keeping Gabby alive for his own sake of mind was wrong, that it was better to let her go, but he wasn't ready. He knew that eventually he would be, but he knew it wasn't time, not yet.