A/N: Thank you all so much for the reviews and feedback. It means a lot to know that people are actually enjoying this story as much as I am with writing it.
The 48 hours off shift allowed Gabby to consider where to go from here. The memories were bombarding and she really didn't know what to do. Should she stay at 51? Should she leave the CFD? A part of her knew she wanted to stay, to be around Casey again, to know he was alive and well, but that part of her running from Iraq wanted to keep running. Her mind wouldn't be able to handle the constant reminder.
Despite the confusion, she tried to maintain her routine. Antonio had always taught her that in the times you doubt your choices, you have to stay in the routine those choices made because it helps you decide where to go. So, she went on her jogs and ate healthy. She had Antonio and his family over. She had a rom-com marathon and kept unpacking her things from storage. She kept the routine until her next shift when it was time to swerve into another.
When she arrived at the station, she went straight to her locker to change. Once finished, it was to the common room to lounge around, have some breakfast, and catch up with her partner.
"Hey, Dawson," Shay said from her chair. "Kelly and I were going to have a few people over after shift. Wanna come?" Dawson nodded before sitting down and turning to the morning paper. She heard and saw people move around her, but she didn't see Casey - not for a what seemed an eternity. Then he walked in, grabbed some breakfast from the spread Mills had made, and sat down across from Gabby. She wondered if he knew who she was, if he recognized her after the trauma of both Iraq and the previous shift. Neither of them said a word, and she saw Shay glance between them several times.
When the tones dropped, their eyes met and she saw a flash of recognition across his face. "Ambulance 61, injured person, Ogden and West 13th." She and Shay both stood and went to the ambulance, getting in and heading out.
"It feels like he doesn't know who I am," Gabby told her on the way. Shay just shrugged, continuing to drive.
"He took a couple good blows to the head since the last time you saw him," she replied, partly joking, but also serious. Gabby nodded, knowing the other woman was right. When the pulled up, they saw a man standing outside - waiting. The rig stopped, and they jumped out. Shay got the stretcher and jump bag.
"We were rearranging furniture when she just fell," the man said, leading Gabby inside - Shay just seconds behind. Once she took in that the scene was safe, she turned her attention to the woman on the floor. She looked to be in her late forties, with an open break to the femur.
"Shay, I need you to stabilize the leg with pillows and tape," Gabby instructed before taking vitals. Everything was within the normal limit for the type of injury sustained. Afterwards, she started an IV and gave the woman some painkillers. When everything was done on scene that needed to be done, Gabby helped Shay load the woman onto the stretcher and then into the ambulance before transporting her to Lakeshore.
The run was nothing abnormal, nothing interesting - run of the mill osteoporosis the woman didn't realize was that bad. Once back at the station, it was back to lounging until something better to do came around. And for Gabby, it took less than ten minutes for Shay to practically drag her to the bunk area and point out Casey's quarters.
"Shay, I can't," she muttered to the woman, low enough where hopefully nobody would hear. Shay gave her the look she'd given her the other day, Gabby naming it the 'come on' look since that's the closest message she could come up with that it conveyed. "Things didn't really end well when it came down to it, and then I didn't know he was alive for almost a year. No phone calls, no letters."
"Well then, it doesn't hurt to try. By the way you told it the other day, you guys were really close. He's gotta remember something about you," the other woman responded. Gabby nodded, hoping that Shay would stay near-by in the case things went south in the room. With a deep breath, she walked over and knocked on the doorframe.
"Sir," she said, using the same tone she would have if she'd still been in the army. Eyes forward, standing at the ready. She knew this was her friend, but at the same time she knew he was still her superior. It wasn't that though, it was the fear that made her so formal. He turned to her, eyes meeting. He didn't say anything for a moment, but she could see the recognition in his face.
He stood up, positioning himself in front of her. "I didn't hear from you, and now here you are," he said, almost a scowl on his face. "You still got guts." She could hear the hatred and the sarcasm dripping from each word.
"Matt, I wrote. I called. Hell, I thought you were dead for a year!" she growled, anger rising. "Or did Hallie not tell you?" He continued to stand there, not moving, not saying a word until she stormed away. Once to the doorway of the sleeping quarters, she turned back to face him. He was now standing outside his quarters, facing her.
"Twenty minutes, Matt. I worked you for twenty minutes, and then sat by your side for God knows how long. And this is how I get thanked, with anger and hatred?" She rolled her eyes, waiting for how he was going to respond.
"Save the living, pray for the dead." She scoffed, walking out and not looking back. The hope she had was gone. Things weren't going to be the way they were, their friendship was ruined with what she could only think of as lies. He didn't understand what she had done for him, going against direct orders to save him, for sending countless letters that she never got replies to.
"I'm not gonna come tomorrow," she told Shay back in the common room. "I have some things I have to deal with instead." Shay nodded in understanding, and Gabby could only hope she had some understanding of what had just went down. She was filled with so much anger and hatred that she couldn't think straight, she couldn't concentrate.
The rest of the shift had a cloud of anger over the house. Tensions were high when she and Casey had to interact, or be around each other in general. That night, she sat on her bed, knees pulled to her chest with silent tears. The person she considered her best friend didn't trust her, didn't believe her. The one true friendship she'd had was gone.
When the shift ended, she walked home in the rain. She focused on the sounds around her, on the rain pounding against her figure. She went through the grounding technique that Antonio had taught her. But it didn't help. As soon as she walked through that front door, things were being thrown across the room, screams and cries filling the air. Glass shattered, holes were made in the walls. All that pain and anger she had was let out in a fit of unadulterated rage.
At the end of it all, she had a pounding headache and a tearstained face. She curled up in her bed, still in the rain soaked clothes she'd walked home in. But sleep didn't come. Instead, it was staring at the wall as images flashed through her mind - the day she joined the army and how proud Antonio was, the days of hell in basic, her deployment, Iraq. There were so many images of Iraq, of combat and patrols and the pain and fear and blood that she'd felt and seen. There were the memories of those late nights where she was afraid to sleep, of the nights she'd curled up next to Casey talking about going home. There were the nights on patrol where she could hear the gunfire in the distance. And then it came down to that fateful day, she played it over and over and over again in her mind. The explosion and confusion, and the choice to try and save her best friend over those still alive.
She didn't know when she'd fallen asleep, or how long she'd been asleep. Glancing around, she saw the mess she'd made for herself. But there wasn't any anger at that moment, but rather numbness and a looming sadness. She stood, peeling off the clothes from earlier in the day and changing into sweats and a tank-top, stepping around the glass and other objects strewn across the room. Curling up on the couch and covering herself with a blanket, she sat, not thinking about anything to do with Casey or Iraq. The numbness was engulfing, slowing her mind to a crawl and fogging it with a haze of confusion and lack of desire.
Eventually, she heard a knock on the door, but didn't answer. There was no energy to get up, no will to move. She heard the lock click open, hearing the door open and the crunch of glass underneath boots. Someone sat next to her, pulling her into them. In that moment, she let the tears fall again as Antonio soothed her. There were no expectations, no need for a story or a reason. That didn't matter to him, as long as his sister was okay. And she was far from it, his words ringing in her ears. Save the living, pray for the dead.