The Devil Doesn't Bargain

Gaz

5 years have passed since the 141 was disbanded. 5 years since anyone had heard from Ember, and no one knew what had happened to Simon..

John and I stayed close though. His bar, "Soapy Specter" was an hour and a half away from the station, but that never stopped me from going almost every weekend to see him.

I was at my desk, finishing some paperwork when my phone rang. Without looking I answered the phone, only two people who call this late.

"Lieutenant Garrick speaking. How can I help you John?"

"Kyle? You need to come today. Somethings happened." John said, frantic. The last time he sounded like this Ember was admitted to a hospital for an attempted suicide. We visited often but... After what happened with Johnny and Simon it tipped her over, she blamed herself.

Im sure I didn't help either, when it happened I almost.. Blamed her. Ember was my friend and I watched her struggle for months because I had lost someone close..

But she did too. Scotty died. And I didn't even go, she went with Price. I wasn't even man enough to apologize.

"Is everything okay John? What happened?" I put my pen down, leaning back in my chair.

"No. Get here soon."

"Be there as soon as possible." I hung up. Running my hands through my hair I bolted towards the door.

I drove faster than anything, I needed to make sure Price was okay... I couldn't lose him too. He was all I had left from our family.

Highway lights passed me at lightning speed, something took over me and I was suddenly back in Al Mazra. Racing to get to the 141 before it was too late.

I got there in an hour, running through the door still in uniform I was heaving. Throat dry, and lungs on fire. My hand on my pistol ready to draw.

"Gaz." He looked up from a small stack of papers in his hand. "Good to see you."

"Price you better start talking. What the hell is going on."

"We got a letter."

"You called me. For a bloody letter?!" I roared, I thought he was in trouble. But that's when I saw it, his hand trembling. The spilled glass of whiskey.

"Read it." He handed it to me, and I pensively took it.

'To my Dad, and friend.

Hello.

I uh, I'm not sure how to write this to you guys. Its been so long, I hope you haven't forgotten me.

I heard a little rumor that Gaz is a Sergeant! Congrats!

Price, how is the bar? Its a beautiful homage. They would have loved it...

Are you guys okay? Eating right? Drinking more than whiskey and beer?'

My eyes welled up with tears as I read, laughing softly and shaking my head.

'Price don't forget to clean up your whiskey after you read this, you hate the sticky feeling.

Don't cry Gaz, I know you blame yourself for what happened to me but that isn't true. I don't hate you. Never can, never will.

I've been okay, since getting out of the hospital I've backpacked across Europe and been to the Azores... Where Simon promised to take me.

But I'm back now, well.. Have been back. I'm going to school for psychiatry. PTSD specialized. I've been seeing a therapist, and I'm healing.

I'd like to see you. I'm sorry it took so long to write you two. I wasn't ready.. Selfish I know, but I had to be. For Simon..