good/right/real

Chapter 7: Helping Hand

Kelly's had an above average good time tonight, that much is clear to the entire bar. He's been just a tad overserved, and now Shay wants to get him home.

"Alright," Shay says with a laugh as she pick pockets Kelly's jacket for his car keys. "Let's get you home, big guy."

Without even glancing over at Sylvie, Leslie fires off a question while she puts on her jacket. "Partner, how'd you get here tonight?"

"Uh, cab," she answers, looking guilty. Matt isn't sure why.

Shay sighs and shakes her head.

"It's awkward asking someone for a ride when I am more than capable of getting here on my own, Shay."

"Better you be awkward than mugged on your front stoop," Leslie tells her with a parental glare. She turns to face Matt as she pulls Kelly off of his bar stool. "Can I trust you to get her home? Have you guys straightened out whatever happened the other night?"

"Yeah," Matt answers immediately. "I can take her home. Not a problem."

Maybe he sounds a little too eager, but he's got a lot to make up for.

"Does anyone want to ask me if I actually need a ride--"

"No," Shay replies, cutting off Brett's protest. "Casey's gonna take you home--as long as he's got his head out of his ass."

He feels Leslie's pointed glare before he sees it.

Casey nods and blushes in embarrassment. He deserved that. "Yes, my head is firmly out of my ass."

"Okay, then it's settled. See you guys later."

Shay walks away leaving Sylvie stammering in her wake.

She huffs and then turns to Matt with fond eye roll. "Look, I know she's worried about me, but you really don't have to take me home. I'll be fine in a cab."

He grimaces at her and shakes his head. "See, you haven't been around to see Leslie Shay's temper. I have. If I don't give you a ride home then I tempt her wrath. That's not something I'm willing to do."

"Even if you owe me big time?" She asks sweetly.

"Even then," he replies with a chuckle.

"Ugh, fine," she says with a resigned huff. Her resignation turns into a reluctant smile. "Thank you. I appreciate it."

"Happy to do it," he assures her.

"I'll just settle up with Herrmann and then we can go."

He nods as she walks away to pay her tab. While he waits, he puts on his jacket, drops cash on the bar, and fishes his keys out of his pocket. By the time that's done, Brett is making her way back over to him. He leads her out the door and down the street to his truck. They load up but the silence between them is far from comfortable. He knows he apologized and she accepted it, but the issue doesn't feel resolved to him.

He thinks about some of the things he discussed with Chaplain Orlovsky that morning and has the strange urge to share some of it with Sylvie. He can't explain it, but his instincts tell him she'll listen. That she won't judge. They've only known each other for a short while but she showed him more forgiveness tonight than most people would have. That makes her exceptionally caring. He admires that.

"Do you know why I drank?" He asks her.

"I have my theories," she answers. "But I don't know for sure, no."

"Shoving down the pain wasn't working on it's own anymore," he confesses. "The alcohol helped me forget."

"Forget what, specifically?"