Danger Zone (File One of The First Responders Files)

Chapter Eleven

Yeah, so . . . y'all might need tissues. And dentist bills. I get the feeling I'll be paying a lot of them after this chapter. Not for the reasons most of you are likely thinking. Let's just say . . . I'm kind of cruel to our favorite girl.

A lot happens this time, folks. Sylvie has some explaining to do to Joe, Buck and Maddie have a third wheel on their coffee run (or Buck's the third wheel, he's not entirely sure), Matt and Kelly get suspicious, Owen gets involved in fire department gossip (there's a shocker), Sylvie gets unexpected help, Joe has had enough, and Sylvie reaches a breaking point. Have a George Winston take on "The Dance" as well - it's what I was listening to as I wrote the end.

Also, disclaimer: I'm not a firefighter, so the descriptions of what Owen discusses with Judd and Michelle are more than likely very far from accurate.

Enjoy if you can!

***

Sylvie prided herself on her emotions. She prided herself on her empathy. Combined, they were her greatest tools as a paramedic. That didn't always mean she was on point with them when she hit her burnout point.

And good Lord, did she hit her burnout point when she finished spilling her polyamorous guts to the Halsteads the previous few nights.

"Thank you for this," Sylvie told Jay in relief as he pulled up to 51, the paramedic finishing guzzling down a fruit punch Gatorade. "I can't believe I drank as much as I did."

"Hey, better you do that with us than at a bar where you could get the wrong people's attention," Jay chuckled, reaching behind her seat to grab a smaller Gatorade bottle and hand it to her. "And I learned a few new things about my brother, too, so I guess I should be thanking you for personal blackmail."

Sylvie snorted. "If Will wasn't at Molly's with Natalie, he was at Molly's with Connor. I was not surprised."

"Oh, I know," Jay grinned. "You didn't get his elated call when Goodwin announced to the ED that she had offered him the role of Chief of the Emergency Department, and he accepted."

"Well, that was where he was originally placed," Sylvie shrugged. "He likely has better memories from the ED than the OR."

Jay sighed. "I know there's the saying 'don't speak ill of the dead' . . . but I'm glad Bekker isn't there now."

"Same," Sylvie nodded. "Though I'd love to see Rhodes and Marcel go head-to-head."

Jay snickered. "Who would take care of the resulting surgeries having to take place?"

Sylvie pouted. "Ruin my fun, why don't you?"

Jay laughed. "Get out of here, Brett. Just call me or Will if you need us for a ride to your place . . . or if you want us to pick you up somewhere else. I think Casey or Severide might murder us if we picked you up here."

Sylvie huffed, grabbing her duffel and stepping out of the car. "They would not."

"Oh," Jay gave her a sly look. "They would."

Sylvie shut the door intentionally. "Get out of here and save the city, Halstead."

"Yes, ma'am," he said in a sing-song voice, giving a two-finger salute and pulling back onto the street.

Sylvie watched him go with a fond look, then headed up to the firehouse, pulling out her phone to check her messages. She hadn't seen anyone when they pulled up, so that meant she was in the clear, especially from Matt and Kelly.