A/N: LONG NOTE AHEAD. SORRY. BUT I NEED TO SAY A FEW THINGS FIRST.

Let me start with this statement: I do not hate Gabby Dawson. The decision I made to have her and Shay switch places (or not switch places as the case may be) for the sake of this plot had very little to do with her and everything to do with my brain wanting to pull that that particular thread out of curiosity. I enjoy writing about the road not taken and seeing where it might lead. Dawson annoys me sometimes, yes, but I think she is a good person and total badass. I enjoyed her in most of her seasons on the show. So, if you've come here to leave reviews about how much you hate Brettsey or Sylvie Brett or Matt Casey simply because you think I hate your favorite character then please kindly leave. I do not hate Gabby Dawson. I simply don't think she's right for Matt. Or that Matt's right for her.

You are not required to agree with me. I really don't care if you do. All I ask is that you choose to scroll on by and ignore content you know you won't enjoy. If you won't enjoy it then, quite frankly, I'm not writing it for you.

On the flip side, this also means this fic will not be the fic that retroactively twists Gabby Dawson into a villian. (None of my fics will be, honestly, because she's not a villain. She's not innocent but she's not evil.) So, if you've come looking for that you won't find it here.

Okay, now that we've got that out of the way, here's the thread I couldn't help but pull:

Shay and Dawson didn't switch places at the building collapse at the end of S2. Shay survived and Dawson didn't. How would that effect 51 and Casey? What would that change for Brett and the entire series? That's what I plan to explore here. So, buckle up, friends, this one might be a long one.

It's going to be a bit strangely formatted for me, be warned. I usually like to do uniform chapter lengths BUT for this one the chapter length will be whatever I deem appropriate for the flow of the story. Likewise for the flow of events in general. I am not writing an alternate take on EVERY Chicago Fire episode since 301. Not every event in the CF universe would change just because Dawson died instead of Shay. Some episodes will get several chapters focus and some will get a paragraph in a chapter about multiple episodes or some may just be skipped all together. If I were to sit here and write an AU of every single episode I would be writing this story until I was 80 years old. That's insane, lol.

Also, the rating will change on this story as of chapter 2 so if you're reading on FFN you'd should put this story on alert because once the rating goes up to M FFN will hide it from you unless you do a specific search to include M rated fanfics. Just a heads up!

Now that the business is out of the way, let's get to the fic!

Happy reading!

angellwings

good/right/real

by angellwings

"I thought the cold would last forever.

I didn't know that there was something better,

Waiting at the end of the world, the world, the world."

-"End of the World" by Kelsea Ballerini

Six weeks ago, the world ended.

Matthew Casey's team, his family, his whole life walked into an abandoned apartment building and one of them didn't come out.

He feels cursed. Or maybe he's a jinx. He's loved exactly two women in his life and they were both ripped away from him in the most violent way he could ever imagine. He lost them before they could even get started. He loses everyone. His father, his mother, Hallie, and now…

Gabby Dawson had her whole life ahead of her, but one explosion robbed her, and him, of every plan she'd ever made.

So, what's the point? Of plans? Of preserving your mortality? Of fucking any of it?

There isn't one.

It's clear the universe or god or whatever sadistic bastard has set his path has determined he's meant to walk it alone. He was made to be a Firefighter and nothing else. Not a husband. Not a father. Not a son. Not even a goddamn fiancé. His job is all he has. That's fine. He's good at it — no, he's more than good. He's never been one to boast before but if it's all he has then he's going to own it.

Lieutenant Matt Casey knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that he is one of Chicago's most competent Firefighters. He's worked his ass off for the Chicago Fire Department. He's earned his good reputation through smoke and ash. Why deny it?

Besides, if it's going to become his identity then there's no room for false modesty.

What he does outside of the Firehouse doesn't matter. Not anymore. Once he walks out of 51 Lt. Matt Casey ceases to exist.

The idea seems depressing but it's oddly freeing. His personal connections are cut. He never stops to learn more than necessary about anyone he meets. Hell, he never even bothers to frequent the same bar twice. He's unfettered and anonymous everywhere he goes.

Well, everywhere but Molly's.

Not his preferred destination these days, but it's late, no where else is open, and he wants a fucking drink. He also doesn't want to go home until he's too tired to remember he lives alone — too tired to see the pictures on the walls or the extra toothbrush by the sink.

Too tired to remember how the world ended.

So, he pushes open the door and tries to banish the intrusive memories that come with it. He helped install that door. The solid antique construction is wholly unique. No one makes them like that anymore. She knew that when she chose it.

He shakes away the image of her, and the photo they took opening day, and releases a shaky breath,

He hates this place. He hates how it makes him think of her. But he's here and he's not leaving. Not now.

He glances around the room and luckily doesn't see anyone from 51. The bartender is someone he doesn't know — an outside hire to fill in the hole Gabby left behind. He breathes a sigh of relief. This may be his regular place but for one night only it doesn't matter. He can be whoever the hell he wants.

As long as he's not Lieutenant Matt Casey.

Her opinion on Chicago can be classified as 'undecided'. She hasn't been here long and every day feels different. Some days she hates it. She hates her scary neighborhood, the trash on the streets, the serious lack of vegetation, the homeless man who lives beside her stoop (well more his smell than him, really). Some days she misses her small town so much it hurts. She has no friends here. Not even any acquaintances. There's no one to invite her out and show her the town. No parties to attend. Not even anyone to meet for a drink after work.

She likes to talk and laugh and listen. Right now, she can only do all of those things with herself. Which is boring and depressing as hell.

But then other days…

Other days she relishes anonymity. Her small town is beautiful and cozy and familiar. That's all true. But small towns are also cesspools of vicious gossip and self righteous judgemental neighbors. All it takes is one cancelled wedding and suddenly you're famous.

People stop talking every time you step into the grocery store or the beauty parlor or in some cases your parents dining room. Sad eyes follow you wherever you go. Jesus, even her supposed friends got in on the bit. You're the sad old maid who somehow screwed up your one chance at happy ever after.

Which makes no fucking sense cause none of it was even her fault. Harrison left her. Sure, okay, the town thought he walked on water. They all loved him. She thought they all loved her too and, to be fair, the entire town wasn't whispering behind her back. Her parents weren't. Their closest friends weren't. Her best friend, Hope, wasn't. Certainly not her brother. They knew her. They understood.

But everyone else…

Can anyone blame her for running away? She had to get out. She needed to go somewhere she wasn't known. Where she could just live her life without feeling like it was going to end up front page news in the Fowlerton Dispatch. She couldn't take the sad or judgemental stares a moment longer. Just like she couldn't stay in Harrison's rented townhouse a moment longer.

She moved in with him after he proposed. At the time, she'd been so excited. But, after he tore out of town and left her behind to clean up his mess, the townhouse felt like a prison. To make matters worse, her car was in the damn shop. She'd been rear ended by sweet old Mr. Gable at a red light and the damage wasn't major but intense enough that her car was out of commision for a few days. She was trapped.

She has never been claustrophobic in her life, but in that moment…

The walls closed in.

There was nothing left to do but escape.

She packed everything she could fit in one suitcase, withdrew her entire life savings (including her hard earned wedding fund), and ghosted on all of Fowlerton, Indiana in the blink of an eye.

In Harrison's car.

Yep, that's right. Lifelong good girl, Sylvie Brett, stole her ex's car.

She still feels guilty about that. As soon as she gets her first paycheck she should start sending Harrison payments. At least until the car is paid off. It's only fair.

But back to her original point-what was her original point?

Oh, right.

She has a love hate relationship with Chicago, but the best thing about it so far is that no one gives a damn about Sylvie Brett. They don't know her from Adam. She can be whoever the hell she wants. She has the power to control her own narrative now. She doesn't have to be the unfortunate girl Harrison left at the altar. As far as anyone here knows, she left him.

In fact, yes, if anyone asks that is exactly how it happened.

Harrison doesn't get to be Julia Roberts. The movie wasn't called Runaway Groom. No, he's Christopher fucking Meloni. It's what he deserves. Let him be the sad sack stuck with announcing the cancellation and returning the gifts - in her imagination anyway.

So, for today, Chicago wins. She loves Chicago. Loves it enough to go on an adventure. She'd heard some people at the Academy mention a bar. What was it? It was a woman's name. Started with an 'm'...

Molly's!

That's it. A quick google search on her phone pops up the address, the hours, and a few Yelp reviews. She immediately likes it. She's not sure why. It just looks...inviting. Like a place she might want to call hers. No real explanation for it.

Maybe it's the twinkle lights.

She hails a cab and off she goes. Time to start living her new life in her new city. Maybe this isn't the best idea. She has her first shift tomorrow, after all. But she has to start sometime.

Why not tonight?