Back for Trouble | Chicago Fire

Prologue

A/N: So I'm writing this during my philosophy class, just be warned.

Enjoy!

Prologue

Sylvie Brett

"Thanks, Herrmann," I grab the two beers and walk over to the table where Stella sits.
I hand a bottle to her and sit down.

"So why'd you ask me to come over?" Stella asks. "You good?"

"Yeah, I just wanted to talk," I reply, "I'm in a fickle with Casey, things have been pretty awkward between us. And... I don't know what to do."

"Why?" Stella remarks vaguely.

I roll the keychain between my middle finger and thumb, confused as to what she means.

"Why does it have to be awkward?" She corrects herself, "Do you like him?"

I sigh, "It's complicated, Stell. I do, and he said that he also does, but-" I hesitate to tell her what he said that night, "He's not fully over Dawson. He still loves her, and I can't just disregard that. How am I supposed to go fully commited into a relationship knowing that if his ex came back that he might throw me away?"

Stella looks at me with sympathy and walks around the table and wraps her arms around me.

"I'm not gonna lie Sylvie, it will be hard. It was hard with Kelly, knowing his reputations concerning girls. And it'll be hard with you too, but if you think about the end result of at least trying... you never know what will happen."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"And is Casey really the type of guy to throw someone away? Even if he did, he would do it gently, respecting your feelings as much as possible." 

Stella makes a point.

"You're right. I'm going over to your guys' place to talk to him. I'm not letting this go."

Stella smirks, "That's my girl. I'll take Severide out. Go talk, just make sure that the couch is clean once we come back."

I glare at her.

Matt Casey

I screwed up. I know that much. There will never be anything I regret more than telling Sylvie that I would leave her for Gabby. While I still have a place in my heart for Gabby, she's gone, and I need to get over her.

I nod to myself. I need to make things right with Sylvie, and if she won't accept it, at least I'll know for myself that I did something about it.

I stand up from my cross-legged position on my bed and lean on my bedpost and take a few breaths, trying to calm myself. I stare at my 4th finger trying to make sense of the silver band around it. I twist it off and clutch it over my heart.

I miss Gabby.

I miss her so, damn, much.

I let a tear slip out of my eye and I unclasp my hands and stare at the grey, shining circle on my palm.

A circle.

Signifying eternity. But Gabby tore that when she left. I understand why she did, and she left because she had to—it was what she was meant to do. And yet, there's a part of me trying to understand. Understand how, or why, or whatever.

We were married.

That must mean something, especially considering how Gabby felt about marriage at the time we got married. Maybe she was right.

Maybe marriage doesn't mean anything. Maybe it just gives a couple an excuse to actually try in a relationship.

I shake my head for thinking like that. That can't be true. It can't.