When The Walls Come Tumblin' Down (9-1-1s/Chicago Fire/Law & Orders)

Owen I, Wallace I, Frank I

It would seem that in the aftermath of news breaking of Jeffrey Donovan's departure, I am in desperate need of writing Frank Cosgrove's POV. So have some of unrepentant Pricegrove ship-teasing (or is it ship-building?) with your fire family fluff. I'll probably make you overdose on Sylvie Brett once Kara Killmer leaves in Season 12.

Three friends finally get the chance to talk to each other after twenty years, and Manhattan's preparation for visitors leads Peter to reach out to a member of another precinct. He just has to pose the question before a coffee war ensues.

***

Elliot had texted that he, as a matter of fact, had found someone with Wallace's contact information, and Owen's head thudded in his throat for the rest of the day. It was later in the afternoon that Peter Stone reached out, and his email contained both Wallace's phone number and e-mail addresses, both work and personal.

My best friend works under Chief Boden, he had written. She sent his information to me after she asked his permission. I have it on good authority that his house is on a 48-hour through tomorrow evening.

That was while his house was on a 24, and if Owen had Bobby's schedule correct, he would be smack in the middle of a 72. If, God willing, none of them had a call at that time . . .

His phone trilled on his bedside table, and Owen flailed around before he managed to snatch it up. He squinted at the glowing Caller ID, and he groaned and answered. "What the hell are you still doing up?"

"Because I can hear your mind going a mile a minute from here," Olivia deadpanned. "And Noah had a pretty bad nightmare, so . . . " A muffled yawn came from the other side, and Owen winced sympathetically. "Makes me glad I have a day off."

"Lucky you," Owen muttered and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"So, did you get the information you needed?"

"I did," Owen nodded. "Thank Peter for me, will you?"

"You wanna do that yourself?"

Owen paused. "Actually, yeah, if you don't mind putting me on – "

"Speaker?" Peter's voice came clear across the line. "Glad you got the email. Though I'll have you know I was spammed the rest of the day asking if I knew about contact being made."

Olivia laughed. "Brett?"

"Oh, yeah. She may be more excited than we are by the possibility of you three reuniting."

Owen smiled faintly. "Who is this?"

"Sylvie Brett," Peter answered. "She's the Paramedic In-Charge for Boden's shift at Firehouse 51. She's sunshine in human form. I don't know how else to describe her." He paused, then amended, "and she has basically everyone wrapped around her finger."

Owen blinked. "Everyone?" he repeated.

"Voight hates it when she gets hurt." An impressed whistle came from Olivia at Peter's words. "And Voight is vicious as hell when he wants to be."

Olivia barked in laughter. "You're telling me."

"So he should never meet Elliot?" Owen quipped dryly.

"Oh, my God," Peter groaned. "Never. If they do, I am not supervising. Liv, I nominate you."

"Thank you for that vote of confidence," Olivia sighed. "They'd either set each other on fire, or they'd set a house on fire. Maybe both."