Chapter 5 Scar Tissue #2
Because he was deciding whether to say something.
Nico didn't pressure him.
Eventually, Gideon walked toward the consultation chairs and sat down.
Nico took the chair opposite him.
For a while, neither spoke.
Gideon's hands rested on his thighs, fingers loosely intertwined. His gaze remained fixed on the floor.
“You said something the other day.”
Nico waited.
“You said I didn't have to punish myself forever.”
“I remember.”
Gideon nodded.
“I've been thinking about it.”
“And?”
“I don't know how not to.”
Nico leaned back.
“You don't have to figure that out tonight.”
Gideon looked at him.
“I want to.”
There was something different in his voice.
Not determination exactly.
More like exhaustion.
Nico understood that Gideon had reached the point where carrying the same weight had become harder than admitting he needed help carrying it.
“What happened after you went back into the warehouse?” Nico asked.
Gideon looked away.
“You don't have to tell me.”
“I know.”
“Then why do you want to?”
“Because I think you need to say it.”
Gideon's jaw tightened.
“You're probably right.”
He took a slow breath.
“When we got the evacuation order, I was already close to the exit.”
Nico remained silent.
“I could see daylight.”
Gideon looked toward the window, but he wasn't seeing the street outside.
“I remember thinking we were getting out.”
His voice became quieter.
“Then I heard him.”
Nico didn't ask who.
“I knew his voice.”
Gideon's fingers tightened together.
“It was Marcus.”
The name seemed to change something in his face.
“Marcus had been behind me. I thought he'd already made it out.”
Gideon swallowed.
“Then I heard him call for help.”
He closed his eyes.
“I stopped.”
Nico watched him carefully.
“I should have kept going.”
“You don't know that.”
“I do.”
Gideon opened his eyes.
“The evacuation order had already come through. The structure was failing. We were told to leave.”
He looked down.
“I knew better.”
Nico didn't interrupt.
“I went back anyway.”
The words were barely above a whisper.
Gideon rubbed his palms together.
“I found Marcus near the loading area. Part of the structure had collapsed around him. He was conscious.”
A painful expression crossed his face.
“He looked at me and said he knew I would come back.”
Nico felt his chest tighten.
Gideon continued.
“I told him I was getting him out.”
His voice broke slightly.
“I believed it.”
He took another breath.
“I started moving the debris.”
His eyes stared into the middle distance.
“Then the building shifted.”
Nico waited.
“The roof came down.”
Gideon's shoulders tightened.
“I remember trying to cover him.”
His hand moved toward his shoulder.
“Something hit me. Everything went black for a while.”
He paused.
“When I woke up, I couldn't move my left side.”
His breathing became uneven.
“I called for Marcus.”
No answer.
“I called again.”
Still nothing.
Gideon looked at Nico.
“I could hear the radio outside. They were calling my name.”
His voice was low.
“I tried to answer.”
He shook his head.
“I couldn't reach him.”
Nico remained still.
“I couldn't save him.”
The words finally came.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
They simply fell into the room.
Nico let the silence remain.
Gideon stared at the floor.
“I've replayed that moment thousands of times.”
“I believe you.”
“I think if I had followed the order, he would have died anyway.”
Gideon's expression tightened.
“But if I hadn't gone back, maybe I wouldn't have been injured. Maybe someone else could have gone in. Maybe they could have gotten him out.”
“Maybe.”
Gideon looked up.
Nico did not soften the answer.
“There are too many possibilities to know what would have happened.”
Gideon stared at him.
“I need to know.”
“I know.”
“I need to know whether I killed him.”
Nico's expression changed.
“You didn't choose for the building to collapse.”
“I chose to go back.”
“Yes.”
Gideon flinched at the direct answer.
Nico continued carefully.
“You made a decision because you believed someone was alive and needed help.”
“I broke the order.”
“Yes.”
Gideon looked down.
“You're not going to tell me I did nothing wrong.”
“No.”
The answer surprised him.
Nico folded his hands.
“I wasn't there, Gideon. I won't tell you that every decision you made was perfect. Firefighters make decisions under pressure. Sometimes they make the wrong ones. Sometimes the right decision still ends badly.”
Gideon's eyes grew wet.
“That doesn't make it easier.”
“No.”
Nico's voice remained steady.
“But neither does pretending the outcome was entirely in your control.”
Gideon looked away.
For a few moments, he said nothing.
Then he whispered, “I was supposed to bring him out.”
Nico's heart hurt for him.
“You believed you could.”
“I failed.”
“You couldn't control the building.”
“I should have known.”
“You knew enough to leave.”
“I went back.”
“Yes.”
Gideon looked at him again.
Nico held his gaze.
“And you have been using that decision as evidence against yourself for six years.”
Gideon didn't answer.
“You survived the fire,” Nico continued.
Gideon's expression hardened.
“Don't call me that.”
“Survivor?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I don't deserve it.”
Nico shook his head.
“That's not what the word means.”
“To me, it does.”
Gideon stood and walked toward the window.
He stared across the street at the firehouse.
“I came home.”
Nico remained seated.
“Marcus didn't.”
“I know.”
“I wake up every morning with these scars and remember that.”
Nico looked at his back.
“The scars remind you that you lived.”
“They remind me that he didn't.”
Gideon turned around.
Nico stood.
He didn't move closer.
“Then maybe that's part of why they hurt so much.”
Gideon looked at him.
“You've been trying to get rid of the scars because they carry the memory.”
“Yes.”
“And maybe you think if you hide them, you can finally stop seeing that night.”
Gideon didn't answer.
Nico took a slow breath.
“But what if the problem isn't the scars?”
Gideon's brow furrowed.
“What is it, then?”
“The way you've decided what they mean.”
Gideon stared at him.
Nico continued.
“You see them and think, I survived when he didn't, so I must owe something.”
Gideon swallowed.
“What else could they mean?”
“They could mean that you were hurt.”
Gideon remained silent.
“They could mean that you tried to save someone.”
“That didn't work.”
“No.”
Nico's voice remained gentle.
“But failure to save someone isn't the same thing as choosing their death.”
Gideon looked down.
Nico could see the conflict moving across his face.
“You don't have to forgive yourself tonight.”
“I don't know if I can.”
“You don't have to.”
“Then what do I do?”
Nico took a small step closer.
“You start by asking yourself a different question.”
Gideon waited.
“Not whether you deserve to survive.”
His eyes stayed on Gideon's.
Ask whether surviving means you have to spend the rest of your life being punished for it.
Gideon went very still.
The question seemed to reach somewhere words had never reached before.
He looked down at his hands.
“I don't know.”
“That's okay.”
Gideon took a slow breath.
“I've never thought about it that way.”
“I know.”
They stood in silence.
After a while, Gideon walked back toward the chair and sat down.
He looked exhausted.
But there was something different in his expression now.
Not relief.
Not peace.
Possibility.
“I still miss him,” he said.
“You're allowed to.”
“I still feel guilty.”
“You're allowed to feel that too.”
Gideon looked at him.
“But I don't have to let the guilt decide everything.”
Nico nodded.
“No.”
Gideon looked toward his shoulder.
For the first time, he didn't reach to cover it.
He simply looked at the scar.
“I don't know what I want to do with these.”
“You don't have to know yet.”
Gideon looked back at him.
“You really believe that?”
“I do.”
Nico smiled slightly.
“You're allowed to take your time.”
Gideon nodded.
Then his eyes settled on Nico's face.
Something passed between them.
Trust.
It was still fragile.
Still new.
But it was growing.
Gideon stood.
“I should go.”
Nico nodded.
“Okay.”
At the door, Gideon paused.
“Nico.”
“Yes?”
“Thank you for not telling me what I wanted to hear.”
Nico's expression softened.
“You needed something else.”
Gideon nodded.
He opened the door and stepped into the evening.
Nico watched him cross the street.
Gideon reached the firehouse and stopped before entering.
He looked back.
Nico was still standing in the doorway.
Neither man waved.
They didn't need to.
For the first time, Gideon walked away from a conversation about the warehouse without feeling as though he had confessed to a crime.
The fire had taken people from him.
It had taken pieces of his body.
It had taken years of his life.
But perhaps it did not have to take everything that remained.
Perhaps surviving did not have to be a sentence.
Perhaps, someday, it could simply be what happened before he learned how to live again.
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