No Ordinary Love

I Don't Think I Would Make It...

Authors Notes:

This chapter is written from my heart, at a time when sudden grief has hit me hard,  from where I am right now in my life...supporting a loved one with their loss, but knowing guilt too for what has not changed.......

This just happens to coincide with the grief consuming 51 in S11 Ep3

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"Evan no! Evan talk to me! Evan talk to me! I can save him!" Violet's screams tore through every person who was standing around Evan Hawkins lifeless body, helpless to change what had just happened, no one able to compute the heartbreaking scene in front of them.
Boden was holding onto a struggling and sobbing Violet, trying to stop her from throwing herself on top of her boyfriend, begging him not to leave her. But it was far too late for that.

The clear up was handled by a relief crew so 51 were excused. Back at the firehouse everyone silently collected their bags without cleaning themselves up, having been stood down from the rest of their shift.
Ritter, Gallo and Sylvie took Violet home, promising Stella that they would stay with her. The rest of them stood watching Violets broken figure being helped into the car. Sylvie's eyes met Stella's across the yard, and silently exchanged looks of love and strength and a hoplessness for their friend, which neither of them yet knew how they would help heal.

Hermann and Cruz headed home, needing to find comfort with their families. Trudy had insisted on coming to drive Mouch home who still looked shell-shocked. The years showed on the grey haired elder stateman of 51.  Stella gave him a hug as he walked head down out of the firehouse. Even Carver had little to say and had left with just a brief nod.

This horror was a repeat of when they had lost Otis, Stella thought as she stood in the yard trying her best to hold back the tears that were threatening to overwhelm her. Of course Otis had been one of the 51 family and Hawkins hadnt, but it still felt like they had lost a part of them. And Violet's loss was their loss.

Chief Boden stared into the night and the sacred ground memorial, everything around him at the firehouse eerily silent. There was no laughter or bells ringing. The rigs stood silent. How many more he cried inside? How many more?

"Chief? You o.k?" Boden turned to face Severide who was standing next to him, his face covered in soot, dirt and sweat. He was still in his turnout gear, his whole posture tired and beleagured. Boden gave his Lieutenants a tired smile that never reached his jet black eyes. 

"The same as the two of you." He replied bleakly, his glance shifting towards Kidd.

Severide nodded and looked across at his wife. Her eyes were blank, the sparkle that she usually wore around her like a halo, missing. Her shoulders were stooped forward with the heaviness of not only her turnout gear but grief.

"Go home both of you. There's nothing that can't wait till tomorrow."
Boden told them.

"Chief there's paperwork..." Stella began.

"It can wait, Kidd. Go home.....and just be together. " His voice was weary and Stella nodded. Going home suited her just fine.

In the turnout room, Kelly helped Stella out of her jacket and hung it up for her. Then he turned her around and took her in his arms and held her, feeling her arms wrap around him, her head resting on his chest, silent tears rolling down her face. She held onto him tightly as if she would never let him go, her head buried in his chest.

"Shhh... it's o.k babe. It's o.k." He murmered against her head, stroking her back.

"Kelly." She whispered on a sob. "I can't stand it......Poor Hawkins....Violet."