Forbidden (Kelly Severide)

Chapter 4

The tension in Firehouse 51 had become almost palpable over the last month. Andy Darden's death cast a long, dark shadow over everyone, but none more so than Matt Casey and Kelly Severide. Each found themselves grappling with grief and guilt, unable to move past the events of that tragic day. Every glance exchanged between them seemed to spark another round of silent accusations.

In the apparatus bay, Matt and Kelly faced each other, yet again.

"If you'd just listened to me, Andy would still be here!" Matt's voice was tight with anger.

"Don't you think I know that?" Kelly shot back, his eyes flashing. "I replay that moment every damn day, Casey!"

The air was thick with their unresolved feelings, neither willing to give an inch.

Ivy Casey watched from the sidelines, her heart aching at the sight of her brother and Kelly tearing each other apart. She had her own demons to wrestle with, having lost a dear friend and a teammate, but seeing the two men she cared about so deeply tearing at each other's throats was unbearable.

"Enough!" Ivy's voice cut through the argument like a knife. Both men turned to look at her, surprise and frustration on their faces.

"This isn't helping anyone," she continued, stepping between them. "Blaming each other won't bring Andy back. If you need someone to blame, then blame me."

Matt and Kelly stared at her, stunned. "What are you talking about?" Kelly asked, his voice softer now.

"I was there too, remember?" Ivy said, her voice shaking slightly. "I should have been able to do something. I should have known. But I didn't, and Andy died. So if you need a scapegoat, here I am."

Before either man could respond, the tones blared, signaling a call. All three firefighters sprang into action, their personal turmoil temporarily set aside.

The call was for a multi-vehicle accident on the highway. It was a chaotic scene when they arrived—cars mangled, people injured, the acrid smell of gasoline in the air. Ivy, Matt, and Kelly fell into their roles seamlessly, each action a practiced routine despite the chaos swirling around them.

Ivy focused on helping a young woman trapped in her car, her calm, steady demeanor belying the storm of emotions inside her. "You're going to be okay," she assured the woman, working quickly to free her. "Just stay with me."

Minutes stretched into what felt like hours, but finally, the last of the victims were transported to the hospital. Exhausted, the firefighters returned to the firehouse, each lost in their thoughts.

Back at the firehouse, Ivy retreated to the locker room, the weight of the day pressing down on her. She sat on the bench, head in her hands, and finally let the tears come. The grief she'd been holding back for a month surged forth, and she cried for Andy, for the life that was lost, and for the broken relationships left in his wake.

She was so lost in her grief that she didn't hear Kelly enter the locker room. He approached quietly, kneeling beside her. "Ivy," he said softly, his hand resting on her shoulder.

She looked up, her eyes red and puffy. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I should have done more. I should have saved him."

Kelly shook his head. "No, Ivy. You did everything you could. We all did. Sometimes... sometimes it's just not enough."

She looked into his eyes, seeing the pain and sincerity there. "But it doesn't stop the guilt, does it?"

"No," he admitted. "But Andy wouldn't want you to carry this burden. He wouldn't want any of us to."

Ivy's tears continued to flow, but she leaned into Kelly, finding some solace in his presence. He held her gently, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears.

They stayed like that for a long time, each drawing strength from the other. Eventually, Ivy's sobs subsided, and she pulled back slightly, looking up at Kelly. "Thank you," she said softly.

Kelly cupped her face in his hands, wiping away the remaining tears with his thumbs. "Anytime," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

Their eyes locked, and in that moment, something shifted between them. Without thinking, they leaned in, their lips meeting in a gentle, tentative kiss. It was a brief, tender connection, but it spoke volumes—of shared pain, of mutual support, and of something more that neither had fully acknowledged until now.

When they finally pulled back, Ivy gave him a small, uncertain smile. "I should go," she said, her voice still shaky but stronger than before.

Kelly nodded, his hand lingering on her cheek for a moment longer. "Take care of yourself, Ivy. And remember, you're not alone in this."

She nodded, feeling a bit lighter than she had in weeks. "You too, Lieutenant. And... thank you."

As she left the firehouse, Ivy felt a strange sense of hope amidst her grief. The path ahead was still uncertain, but she knew she didn't have to walk it alone. And maybe, just maybe, she could help mend the rift between Matt and Kelly, starting with herself.

Back in the firehouse, Kelly watched her leave, a mixture of emotions swirling within him. He knew they still had a long way to go, but for the first time since Andy's death, he felt a glimmer of hope that they could find their way through the darkness together.