Title: Why?
Summary: There is one word that now haunts them both and over a drunken confession and a one sided fight a new understanding is formed; leading one to question his latest actions. Casey/Severide OS Based on eppy 1.12 Under the Knife 'contains some spoilers' some mild whump/hurt/comfort
Disclaimer: Chicago Fire and its characters are the property of Dick Wolfe, NBC and….well sadly not me lol
Note: "Words in italics and double quotes taken directly from episode"
Casey sits beside Severide in the noisy bar; the second shot already in his stomach and his mind trying to process his friend and fellow 51 lieutenant's confession that he was leaving…going to Madrid…for good. This is a joke right? He's playing with me?
"Man…you're messing with me."
"No I'm not. I bought my plane ticket an hour ago."
Really? But this is home…he can't…leave. This…this makes no sense, he hasn't known Renee that long, Casey's mind ponders in dizzying circles. It is something else? Did something else happen? Or is it just the surgery?
"So…when do you leave?" Casey dares to inquire as he breaks the mounting silence; gesturing for another shot; Severide looking over with a heavy frown.
"Tuesday."
"Tuesday. What'd Shay say?"
"She's pissed," Severide states with a heavy sigh. "She doesn't get it."
"Doesn't get what? This is your home."
"I know but I can't sit around here on rehab…this close to the house and knowing…I can't do anything on the job."
"You'll have to exercise it somehow. You know my offer."
"I'm at the house and the alarm goes off and I have to remain behind watching all you guys go and do the job…the only job I have ever loved and wanted to do before I get back to washing the damn dishes," his voice hardens as he looks down into his pint of beer. "Could you do it?"
"Kelly…"
"Tell me Matt…could you do it?"
"I wouldn't want to leave my friends…my family…just think about what you're giving up. You said this is the only home yo…"
"I think I'm falling in love with Renee."
"Okay but…but you know what…you're right. It's your call and I guess I just gotta wish you all the best."
"Just tell me straight up Matt. Could you do it? Go to the house every day and not do the only job you ever wanted to do?"
"Won't be forever," Casey argues back.
"Vargas said he'd be back and we haven't seen him since that night. You can't…it would be too painful and we both know it."
"But there are…"
"Could you?" Severide presses.
"After today…maybe not."
"Today? What happened today? Today was kinda routine."
"Yeah on the job," Casey's voice dies out as he downs his third shot and then looks up and frowns when he can't gesture for another shot of straight up hard liquor; the bartenders back to them.
"What does that mean? What happened?"
"You know…" Casey pauses as he places the empty shot glass down on the counter with a bit too much force, causing Severide to slightly jump and look over with a frown. "It's no…big deal."
"Kinda sounds like it's a big deal."
"I know you have other things to worry about…" Casey replies as he gestures for another to the bartender finally looking at them. "Surgery…leaving everything behind and just…"
"Whoa easy Matt…that's your fifth shot straight up and without food."
"I'm fine," Casey assures him as he gently pulls his hand free from Severide's grasp trying to stop him from taking another shot of the golden poison.
"Look I told you what I had to and now I don't mind listening. But you need to pace yourself. You wanna eat something I don't mind. I'm not in a hurry to…"
"Run away from all this?" Casey lightly snaps and then winces as he looks away. "That…was uncalled for."
"It's the whiskey talking," Severide huffs as Casey looks back down the fifth shot in his grasp. "Let me orde…"
"I'm not hungry. I just want to forget," he mumbles before he brings the fifth shot to his lips and quickly gulps the golden poison down.
"Forget what?" Severide lightly presses. "What happened?"
"Today…nothing," Casey places down the shot glass and gestures for another.
"Okay…you're done," Severide looks at the bartender and shakes his head for him not to bring the sixth shot.
"You can't tell me what to do!" Casey snaps. "You're not my damn…mother! My mother…damn she played me…" he hisses and then shrinks back as his mind replays the moment he was forced to confess a painful memory to a sly stranger and his manipulative mother; forcing his emotions to surge and his mind to question in that moment if perhaps his sister had been right all along.
"I feel guilty. I keep wondering if I hadn't left the key there…"
"What?" Severide's apologetic tone forces Casey's defensive expression to slightly soften and his head to nod.
"Nothing. It's just that…I need another sho…"
"He's done," Severide insists as his hand rests on Casey's arm.
"I'm not driving," Casey argues back as he leans over a few feet and reaches for the bottle and pours himself his sixth shot just as the bartender turns around. "I'll pay for it," he scowls as he quickly downs his sixth shot, his stomach starting to burn from the lack of food and agitated bile waging war inside; his head starting to throb and his core enflamed. "Ano…"
"You also need food or you're gonna feel sick in the morning."
"We don't work tomorrow."
"Okay, then I thought it was my night to get tanked," Severide mentions lightly as Casey nods in agreement as Severide's arm retracts.
"You're right…I'm being…selfish."
"I called you remember?"
But then before Severide can ask what was eating away at his friend, Casey tosses a few bucks on the countertop and then heads for the door. "Matt…damn it," Severide groans as he quickly tosses a few dollars onto the countertop as well and hurries after his very inebriated friend.
Casey heads into the cool night air, cursing the fact that he had allowed his mother to play him in front of a stranger and trick him into reliving that horrible nightmare over and over and he did so easily; his mind now racing with the one word he has never answered successfully – why.
"Matt!" Severide calls out as he watches Casey stumble into the back of a cab before he heads for his car and starts to follow, his mind trying to replay the events of the day; wondering what Matt had faced that would make him so sour or want to drown his mind in that much whiskey without wanting to eat. "What happened…" he mutters to himself as he continues at a discreet pace behind the cab with Casey in the back. But as they near the intended destination, Severide's brow furrows and his mind now starts to ponder a sinking feeling. "Did he see her today?"
"You gonna be okay?" The cabbie asks Casey as Casey shoves the cash into the small box and then grumbles something and gets out of the cab, heading toward the darkened entrance, not looking back to see Severide turn off his car headlights and wait in the dark before getting out and following at a discreet distance. "Matt…damn I'm sorry."
With his hands shoved into his pockets, Casey heads for a very familiar location, his head starting to throb further and his heart rate increasing; his eyes automatically watering.
"Hey dad…" Casey's near whisper manages to leave his throat, his right hand escaping the side of his jacket and quickly brushing away a few angry tears before digging back into the pocket. "I uh…" he starts and then stops; his ears picking up a sound to the right in the distance but his eyes not seeing anything discernible. He turns back and looks at the darkened gravestone and feels his breath catch as he pictures his mother's unsympathetic expression that horrible night.
"Do you know…do you even know how she got in? Did you have time to ask or even wonder? Did she ever tell you? I have wondered and asked myself that same damn question over and…over and over and…OVER AGAIN!" Casey yells into the cool dark air. "WHY! In fifteen years…" Casey's voice stammers with a small hiccup. "I've asked myself that…every damn DAY! WHY?" Casey shouts once more, not realizing that he had drawn more than one set of onlookers; two vile strangers to the right and one concerned friend to the left. "Was it my fault…did I do it on purpose as Rick…Rick…what a…why dad…" Casey groans as he sinks to his knees. "Mom…she's up for parole. Christie doesn't want her out. She always blamed mom…always will I think but me…maybe I'm wrong, maybe she…why…" his words stop as he slumps down onto his butt and rests his now slightly spinning head in his hands, his heart rate starting to rise thanks to the alcohol-fueled agitation.
"I ask myself over and over…why did I do it…why was I so careless…why…WHY! WHY THE HELL CAN'T YOU ANSWER ME!"
"He's dead dude!" A strange voice snickers; the unknown voice forces Casey's head to swivel upward to the right and his gaze to narrow at the two dark figures heading toward him.
"You alone here buddy?" The other asks as Casey struggles to stand upright.
"Give us your wallet."
But he tries to stand up too fast and the alcohol quickly reminds him who's in charge by forcing the world around him to start to spin; the two dark figures looming closer.
"Get off ME!" Casey tries to shout, his body rapidly losing the battle as he's jump by the two punks.
"Oh no…" Severide states in a haste as he hears some angry voices arguing with Casey.
"Give us your damn wallet!"
"No!"
Severide rushes toward the two men in black trying to rob his drunken friend who was trying very unsuccessfully to fight back or just keep himself upright. Severide pounces on the one to the right; throwing a heavy punch with his right arm and not caring about the painful throb reverberating through his frame as he's hit back. Casey tries to pull his arms free of the one that had grabbed him from behind, his world continuing to spin as he finally manages to yank free and stumble to his knees.
"Get off…him…" Severide grabs at the one that was trying to tackle Casey and get his wallet; the first one's body slamming into Severide's and taking them both down to the damp ground. Casey rolls onto his back; receiving a punch to the face but returning the favor and slamming his fist into the face of his attacker.
"Now…get lost!" Severide shouts as he kicks at the second attacker just as he breaks free, grabs his friend by the hoodie and pulls him off Casey's flailing frame and they bolt for the cemetery entrance.
"Matt…"
"Get away!" Casey shouts as his pushes Severide's hands away as they gently try to help him stand up.
"Okay…" Severide sighs as he pulls back and Casey's weary frame slumps back down to his knees; his back to Severide.
"I killed my father," Casey offers as his shoulders slump.
"What?"
"I KILLED HIM!" Casey shouts as he looks toward his father's gravestone and feels his eyes water. "I left the key…I don't…it's my fault."
"Matt…"
"My mother…she's up for parole…she…she killed him and I let it…happen," Casey manages as he wipes is mouth and nose, his hand coming away with a fresh smattering of blood that a glint of light picks up and Severide manages to see at the same time and sink his head in worry.
"Matt it wasn't…"
"It was."
"You know it was you…"
"I left the key. Why the hell did I leave the key there…on the counter…it was mine. She never had one…dad…dad never gave her one. Only me and I…I was supposed to be…responsible," he laments as is body sags a bit further before the leans over and throws up some liquid; Severide quickly kneeling at his side and patting his back. "I was responsible…for his death."
Casey tries to shrug away the comforting touch but his body remains in place; his lungs slightly heaving. "I didn't want him dead…"
"I know…"
"My mother…her words are twisted now and she…I've asked myself why…every day for fifteen years and the guilt…I had it under control and now…damn Rick."
"Who's Rick?"
"An ass…" Casey slightly smirks as he slumps backward and looks up at Severide; finally allowing his friend to see his cut lip and bloody nose.
"I gotta take you home…"
"You're going to Madrid…leave me here."
"I'm not leaving…" Severide grunts as he tries to get Casey upright; Casey's body rebelling and trying to pull itself back down. "This ground is cold and damp and you're shivering."
"I don't care. Go away."
"I care and not leaving you here alone and drunk. Now let me…"
"No! Get away! I killed HIM!" Casey shouts as he pulls free and rolls away; resting on his side and looking up at his father's gravesite with watery eyes. "And now…if she gets out…it'll be another reminder that I…I failed."
"Matt…"
"You want to know why right?"
"No I want you to get up off the damp grass."
"I don't know why I left the key there okay? I don't…my dad was not perfect but she shot him…and I…" Casey's voice trails off as he slowly gets to his knees and rests for a few seconds before looking up at Severide with a defeated expression. "He wasn't perfect….but I didn't want him dead. I didn't leave the key there on purpose."
"I know," Severide whispers and nods.
"That night…I replay it over and over…why did I leave the key there…why? She was waiting…she pounced and she…she killed him and now…now she wants my help to get out and…and I was in agreement and now…after today…what the hell am I doing."
"Damn…" Severide curses under his breath. "Man I'm sorry."
"Maybe…maybe Christie is right…" Casey's voice dies out as he tries to stand up; the area around him spinning and forcing him back to his knees. "Maybe I'm the one in the wrong…" he mutters as he feels Severide's comforting grasp on his arm helping him upright and then holding on a few seconds to ensure he'd remain upright.
Severide offers only a small sympathetic expression as Casey looks at him and then pulls away, stumbling toward his father's gravesite, the sleeve of his coat wiping away sniffles and blood and slightly smearing it onto his face.
"The key…the damn key…if only I had kept it where I normally did…why did I change my routine…why did I put it out…why…" Casey's voice dies out as he turns and looks at his father's darkened gravesite once more. "WHY!"
Severide watches Casey's frame threatening to crumble and wants to take him home but knows when he first found out his own life altering news, he headed for his own special place and yelled until his throat was hoarse and he had no emotion left inside; Shay taking him home after everything inside him was spent. As much as he wants to take Casey someplace warm and get him to just rest, he knows Casey has to get it all out. And he's the only one to help right now.
"WHY!" Casey shouts again before he hangs his head in his hands and lightly sobs. "Why…" he gasps as Severide's arms quickly grab his swaying frame before he can crash headfirst into the granite headstone; the two of them slowly moving to a kneeling position.
"I didn't want him dead…" Casey's lips whisper as his lungs gasp. "I didn't. Him and mom…they didn't see eye to eye all the time and when he left…I was upset and sad but…but I didn't want him dead. It wasn't my fault they fought but…maybe it was my fault he died. If I had only kept that key….why didn't I keep it…"
Not really knowing what to say in return to Casey's tormented confession; Severide can only offer a listening ear and his jacket to his shivering friend as his drunken admission continues in the dimly lit corner of the cemetery.
"I can't be there…at the hearing…can't face that…I did this…I am responsible for all this," his voice rambles on in anxiety; his watery gaze fixed on his father's name a few meters away. "Why…" is the last word he utters in a tormented whisper. A few minutes pass and Severide finally deduces that if he helps Casey off the damp ground and into the warm cabin of his car, his actions would now be allowed.
"Come on…" Severide whispers as he slowly helps Casey stand up, his leather jacket on Casey's shoulders and his mind now wondering if he should take him to his own home or leave Casey at his – alone and drunk. "Watch your head," Severide tells Casey as he helps him into the passenger side and then heads for the drivers and starts up the car to get some warmth into the rapidly cooling cabin. "There's Kleenex in the glovebox."
"Thanks," Casey softly offers as he pulls it open and grabs a Kleenex and dabs his nose and lip, wincing as he leans back on the seat rest and closes his eyes; as his head continues to swim and throb. "You can…drop me at home."
"Shay has some leftovers…"
"Kelly…"
"When the doctor told me my news I wasn't alone. You shouldn't be alone tonight."
"I never wanted him dead."
"I know," Severide agrees, his face displaying a small frown as he pulls away from the parking lot and heads for his apartment; Casey's eyes closing and his lips not offering another protest. "Did those guys have a knife?"
"No. Just four heavy fists," Casey groans as he touches his cheek. "I need a Tylenol."
"You need food."
"And no more alcohol."
"Definitely done for the night," Severide mentions lightly as he heads back toward the city; his mind reminding him not to ask for details or press for something else that might not be offered. Casey had never spoken much about the details surrounding his father's death; only that his mother was in jail for killing his father. His mind quickly recalls the first time Casey had to endure jokes about his mother being a convict during their training many years back and how he said it had changed him. But he never knew about the key left out…left out by Matt that their mother used to her advantage to kill their father – murder him and forever divide a family and alter a future. Why was a kid forced to live with that guilt for so long? No wonder he was in torment.
Severide glances over at Casey at the same moment Casey's fingers wipe away a tear, his fist angrily balling the bloody Kleenex in his palm and his lips whispering a nearly inaudible curse. "I never got…to say goodbye," Casey confesses in torment, Severide's face wincing as he pictures a teenage Casey being told by the police that their mother murdered their father.
"I'll take a…cab home," Casey stammers as he tries to get out of the car, his heart racing and head spinning even more. He manages to get out of the car and rest against the side just as Severide comes around to join him, looking at him with a skeptical expression. "I never got past…the guilt. I just learned to mask it…really well."
"Come on," Severide gently takes him by the arm and leads him toward the elevator of the underground parking lot; Casey's exhausted frame not doing much in the way of protest.
"Today…it all came back. Christie…she tried to warn me…" Casey slightly stumbles as they near the door to Severide's apartment and he stops and pulls back from his friend's supportive grasp. "I did this."
"I'm sorry…" Severide offers softly as Casey's tormented expression turns and looks at him in anger.
"I'm sorry too…I've said that every damn day for fifteen YEARS!" Casey shouts and then backs down, as his head starts to throb even more and the room spins. Just as Shay opens the door to see what the commotion was about, Casey leans against the wall and squeezes his eyes shut.
"Hey," she greets them softly, Casey looking at her with a heavy frown.
"Hey…any leftovers?" Severide comments as he takes Casey by the arm and pulls him into their apartment before Casey can utter another verbal protest.
"Yeah…and I'll get my first aid kit," She gestures to the blood residue around Casey's mouth and nose. "Care to explain?"
"This wasn't from me. I stopped it from getting worse," Severide admits in truth as he helps Casey walk numbly into living room and then sink down into one of the large leather chairs; his head resting on the back and his eyes instantly closing.
"What happened tonight?"
"We bonded," Severide retorts, prompting Shay to just roll her eyes and head for the bathroom to get the small first aid kit; Severide heading into the kitchen to get a Tylenol and a glass of water and coming back to Casey in the living room. He gently touches Casey's arm and Casey's eyes flutter open and he looks at Severide with an anguished expression.
"Here…I'll make some…"
"I don't need…"
"Take it. You'll just rest here tonight," Severide insists as he places the small pill in Casey's right hand and then waits until he puts it into his mouth and then offers him the glass of water. "Here."
"Thanks," Casey whispers as he slowly swallows the water and then slightly gasps.
"You need food," Shay's voice is heard as she comes and sits on the other side of Casey and starts to gently clean the blood from his mouth and nose.
"I'll get it," Severide replies as he stands up and heads for the kitchen, Casey watching him go before turning to Shay with a small frown.
"He saved me tonight…he didn't leave…he can't leave," Casey confesses in a tone only she could hear, making her look up from putting the supplies way and give him a small nod in agreement.
"Just rest okay," she instructs as Casey leans his throbbing head back on the chair rest and closes his eyes; Shay pulling away and heading into the kitchen where Severide is putting together a small plate of leftovers.
"How is he?"
"He needs you to stay in Chicago…we both do," Shay tells him outright as she pushes past and heads for the bathroom, Severide looking at her and then at Casey and frowning as Casey's eyes open and he looks at his friend; a silent pleading glance confirming what Shay just told him. And while he knows Casey has his own demons to battle in the quest to answer the question why, his mind now is wondering the answer a question starting with the same word. Why was he in such a hurry to run away? Why was he leaving his support system behind? Why had things gotten this far?
Why?
THE END!
A/N: I hope you all liked this angsty little piece and hope you do review before you go and thanks so much!