This little story grew out of control, I'm not proud of it but the plot bunnies were demanding. On another note, it's no secret that I disliked what the writers did with Dawson. There is character bashing, so don't say that I didn't warn you! If you like Dawson this is not a story for you.
WARNING: Character bashing, sensitive subject matter, domestic violence
Just an Accident
"Hey…" Dawson began sweetly, smiling widely at the desk clerk in the ER.
She greeted the paramedic back with a grin, knowing the woman from bringing in patients regularly. "Hi Gabby! What are you doing here when you're not in uniform?"
"Matt's cut his arm and it's too serious to deal with at home. Still bleeding. Says he's fine but he's unsteady on his legs so needed to bring him in..."
"Oh no... I'll get someone over to him right away... just hold on."
"Thanks hun…" Dawson replied in the best syrupy voice she could put on.
She turned away and headed back to where Casey sat.
"How are you doing?" she asked, urgency in her voice now as she saw how pale he had become.
He was leaning forward, head bowed, right arm held up against his chest with his left hand under his elbow. The bandage and towel around the wound were soaked in blood. "I'm fine," Casey replied flatly, "Well… I will be."
It wasn't long before a doctor they knew came over to them and took them into one of the small procedure rooms where he told Casey to lie back on the bed. He sat himself by Casey on a roller stool and carefully unwrapped the towel and bandage from his right arm. Fresh blood began to flow from the wound as he pulled away the soaked bandage so he grabbed some of the clean absorbent clinical sheets from a box and rewrapped the arm, holding it upwards again.
"That's some wound, Matt. How did it happen?" he asked kindly.
Casey was starting to feel a little lightheaded and just sank his head back onto the bed. closing his eyes, taking a moment's breather before he answered. "Just an accident. Nothing, really."
He winced and his eyes flew open as the doctor moved his arm onto the armrest at the side, the sheet of padding was pulled away. The man was peering closely at the wound now. It was almost five inches long and around half an inch deep in places. It was still bleeding a little, but not as badly as it had been before.
"I wouldn't call this nothing, Matt, it's a nasty wound," the doctor responded, raising his eyebrows.
"Was stupid, really. I slipped, holding the knife… wasn't even running," he joked thinking of the old saying about never running with scissors.
"He was making lunch for me," Dawson added, standing firmly by Casey's side, holding onto his left hand now. "He's going to be all right, isn't he? Will it scar?" she asked quickly, worried.
"It will, but I can get the plastic surgeon to come down and take a look at it if you want, Matt? I could really do with getting it stitched up now though to prevent any more bleeding, and lessen the chance of infection..."
"Don't need a plastic surgeon," Casey answered, looking directly into the doctor's face now. He could see that the man didn't believe his version of events but he felt too lightheaded too care.
"Baby, you don't want to scar…" Dawson was saying sweetly, smiling at the doctor, then at Casey.
"I'll get my best intern onto it for you, Matt," the doctor continued.
"No," Dawson said suddenly, shaking her head. "No nurses, no interns. I want the surgeon to have a look, I want him to deal with this."
"How about I do it?" he asked, noting that Casey was still focused on his arm, not once looking up at Dawson.
"All right, just make sure you do a good job on him...don't want any scarring..." Dawson responded.
"Well, I'll give it my best shot," the doctor smiled back politely. "Now, if you could stay in the waiting area while I get this sorted out please..."
Dawson let go of Casey's left hand. "Oh... sure." She had fully expected to stay with Casey whilst his arm was stitched and dressed so she left reluctantly.
"Sorry about that," Casey apologised to the doctor. "You really don't have to do this yourself."
"Matt, it's fine. It's the least l can do for you." He knew Dawson and Casey through their line of work and he had been by Molly's a few times with colleagues and seen them there on a social level as well.
Casey was silent as the doctor cleaned his arm wound and it started oozing blood again as he did. The grimace on Casey's face told him all he needed to know about the pain level.
"I'm going to put a local anaesthetic in so you won't be in any pain when I start, ok?" He prepared a syringe and began to inject around the wound in various places to numb the whole area.
Casey sucked in sharp breaths as he did, gritting his teeth and looking away from the needle.
"Sorry...won't take long, Matt..." the man smiled.
"Can run into burning buildings but the sight of a needle…" Casey laughed self-deprecatingly.
"I've fainted at the sight of my own blood before," the doctor laughed. "Can face anything on a patient but not even a papercut on myself." He was making Casey feel more at ease now as he chatted, he was glad because there was something he wanted to ask him.
"Guess I don't feel so bad then," Casey mused as the doctor left his arm for a short time whilst the anaesthetic took effect.
"Matt, how did this really happen?" the doctor asked as he began to suture the wound, cleaning away blood as he worked.
Casey would have pulled his arm away if he wasn't aware of the tugging and pulling sensation, uncomfortable with the questioning. "I slipped," he repeated his earlier response.
"You right handed?" the doctor asked suddenly.
"Yeah, but this won't affect that, will it?"
"No, it shouldn't do. I was just wondering how you did this if the knife was in your right hand?"
"Well... erm, it wasn't." Casey's face flushed as he realised he had fallen for the doctor's trick question.
"This is a defensive wound, the depth and positioning of it tell me that..."
Casey simply smiled, his wall of defence back up again. "It isn't."
"And if it was you wouldn't tell me."
"I slipped, just like Gabby said, she was right there, she saw."
The doctor looked up at Casey, his head was still turned away. "Ok."
Casey realised the doctor knew he wasn't telling the truth but he could never admit it to the man. He couldn't ever tell anyone what had happened. He blamed himself entirely for the situation and knew he just had to be more careful in future.
By the time the wound was sutured almost half way, Casey was starting to feel a little nauseated. And then his phone began to buzz. "Can I answer that?"
"Quickly. In case my boss comes by," the doctor answered, concentrating on the suturing.
Casey answered the phone, having seen the caller ID when he pulled it from his pocket with his still bloody left hand. "Hey, Kelly, you ok?"
"I'm fine," Severide answered, almost surprised at the question. "Are you?"
"Yeah… what did you want?"
"Checking what time I'm supposed to be picking you up later?"
"Later?"
"Blackhawks game, we got the tickets last week, remember?"
"Oh that's tonight? I thought that was next week?" he frowned, picturing Dawson's handwriting on the chalkboard with the time and date of the game.
"It's tonight… Matt, what's wrong?"
After a short pause, Casey spoke again, "Nothing, I just forgot. I don't think I can go…"
"Seriously? Please don't tell me you need to ask Dawson…" he laughed down the phone.
"No, it's just… something's come up," Casey responded as the alarms went off in the room next door to him.
There was silence at the other end for a few seconds. "Matt, what the hell was that?"
"What was what?"
"Where are you? Matt?"
Casey almost sighed. "I'm at Med."
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"I'm coming over…"
"Kelly, don't…" he stopped. Severide had already hung up. He spoke to the doctor, "Sorry about that."
"It's fine."
"Are we nearly done?" Casey asked wearily.
"You need to get out of here?" the doctor questioned.
"No…" But he did need to get out of here, he wanted to leave before Severide arrived.
"It's a deep wound, Matt, I want to take my time with it," the doctor responded.
"Yeah, of course, sorry…"
The doctor kept on working for a few minutes before he spoke again. "So, do you and Gabby live together?"
"What?" Casey frowned slightly at the question.
"Just making conversation," the doctor replied.
"Well, you don't need to," Casey almost snapped at the man." He swallowed. "Sorry… erm, yeah, we live together."
The doctor smiled, he kept going with his careful work, suturing the nasty wound on the underside of Casey's right arm. "You're both at the same firehouse, right?"
Casey nodded.
"Must be nice, working together, keeping an eye on each other."
"Yeah, I guess," Casey responded cautiously, still on the defensive about the cause of his arm wound.
"Matt, you know you can…" the doctor began to say something to him but was interrupted by Dawson striding back into the room.
"How are you doing baby?" she asked with a large smile on her face. She planted herself firmly by Casey's side and grasped his left hand again. It was still caked in his own dried blood. "I'll get you cleaned up when we get home," she said, lifting his hand and kissing it. He pulled it away from her grip instinctively. Something the doctor noticed immediately.
Before Casey could get any words out, the doctor was speaking. "Sorry but you can't be in here until I'm finished."
Dawson smiled. "I am a paramedic..."
"The rules apply to everyone, even you. I'll let you know when we're done," the doctor spoke firmly and calmly, ensuring there was no doubt in her mind that she had to leave the room.
"Why are you taking so long?' Dawson challenged him now, her stance almost aggressive.
This time Casey spoke before the doctor could. "He's doing a really great job, Gabby...you said you didn't want it to scar too badly."
Dawson just smiled. Her mouth did. But her eyes didn't. "Of course. I'll go back out then.'
"You could go to the cafeteria for a coffee, maybe some lunch? You're always saying how good it is here…"
"Yeah, it doesn't look like we'll be home very soon," she stated pointedly, turning to go.
"Go treat yourself... don't think I can rescue what I was cooking," Casey said after her, apologetically.
"I'll be back soon," she threw over her shoulder as she left the room.
"Sorry about that…" Casey muttered.
"I am almost done now. You've had a recent tetanus shot?"
"Two, maybe three years ago."
"Yeah, that's fine, just needs to be within five years. The wound was clean anyway but it's just a precaution," the doctor responded.
"Knife was clean, she'd…" he stopped.
"She'd what?" the doctor pressed.
"She just passed it to me. Did you say you were done?"
"Just need to get another cleaning kit then I'll wrap it up for you," he explained. He stood up from the stool and left Casey alone in the room.
Casey wasn't alone for long. "You can't be in here," he told Severide as he rushed into the room.
"What? I just wanted to…"
"No, I don't mean like that. Just the doctor said…"
The doctor walked back in. "It's all right, I'll be finished in just a moment, unless you wanted to talk to me in private, Matt?"
Casey just shook his head at the man.
"What happened?" Severide asked, looking down at the long line of neat stitches on Casey's arm.
"Just an accident," Casey's replied nonchalantly, trying to make light of it, but the evidence, the huge wound on his arm, said otherwise.
"An accident? What the hell d'you do?"
"I slipped," he replied.
"Onto what? A sword?" Severide was incredulous. Casey didn't reply and Severide just watched in silence as the doctor cleansed the wound once more and started to dress it, finishing with an expertly wrapped bandage covering Casey's arm from wrist to elbow.
"All done, Matt," the doctor announced.
"I can go?"
"Just need you to sign a form and give you some aftercare instructions, then you're free to leave. I won't be long," the doctor left the room again.
Casey sank his head back down again as Severide sat on the stool next to him. "Matt… what's going on?"
"What do you mean?"
"This." Severide indicated Casey's freshly bandaged arm with a nod of his head. This wasn't the first suspicious injury Casey had suffered during the last few months, but it was the first one that had landed him in the ER.
"It's nothing. And I'm sorry about messing up your plans for tonight."
"I'm not worried about my plans. I'm worried about you."
"Don't be."
Severide nodded sadly. "When you're ready to tell me the truth then I'm here for you." He was unsure what else he could say or do at this point, but he did know that Casey wasn't going to talk yet.
"You shouldn't have come…"
Dawson stepped back into the room. "All ready, baby? Where's the doctor?"
Casey tore his eyes away from Severide's. "He's just getting a form, then I can go."
"What are you doing here, Kelly?"
"Meeting a friend after her shift," Severide replied fast enough to give nothing away to Dawson. Casey just looked at him with a small frown on his face.
"Who's the friend?" Dawson persisted, smiling.
"Just that... a friend..." Severide answered, clearly not going to divulge any more information to her so she let it drop.
"Good thing you're not this clumsy at work, Case," Severide said with a chuckle and Dawson laughed with him.
The doctor returned so Severide left the room as Casey signed the treatment form. The doctor handed him the aftercare leaflet, which Dawson immediately took from Casey's hand and left on the bed. "We don't need this. I can take care of him myself," she announced to the doctor.
"I'm sure you can but all patients have to have an aftercare leaflet," the doctor replied thinly, picking it up again and handing it back to Casey along with his business card. This time he handed them directly into Casey's pocket. "If you have any concerns just give me a call, Matt."
Casey nodded. "Thanks."
"Let's get out of here, Matt."
"Yeah, let's go," Casey stood up.
"Take care of yourself, ok?" The doctor nodded, his eyes telling Casey he knew what was going on, but Casey just looked away, pulling the business card out of his pocket and leaving it on the hospital bed. He didn't need this man's number or his concern.
Dawson marched out, Casey trailing behind her. Neither of them noticed Severide was still there, watching them, standing next to the vending machine, out of their line of sight but close enough to hear Casey apologising to Dawson.
When they had disappeared through the exit doors, Severide stepped back into the room where the doctor was still clearing up the debris from the suturing. He looked up, surprised, as Severide entered through the door.
"Can you do something?" Severide asked the doctor.
The doctor looked up quickly from the tray he was clearing up, he'd not expected anyone to enter.
"Do something?"
"C'mon don't tell me you thought that wound was an accident?"
The doctor gave Severide a knowing look that told him he didn't think the wound was accidental but he had to be careful. "The only thing I can do is flag the injury. I tried talking to him, he doesn't want to talk and until he does…"
"There's nothing anyone can do?" Severide half-stated.
He nodded. "Only thing you can do is keep an eye on him."
"I am. And he still ended up in here needing stitches."
"I'm sorry. Really, I am. He's a decent guy."
Severide almost rolled his eyes. "He's too decent."
They were on shift the next day. Since it was the height of summer Casey's bright white bandage couldn't be hidden under long sleeves. One hour into his shift he regretted not suffering with the temperature by wearing something that covered his arm. Most of his truck crew, Dawson, Brett and Severide plus a couple of squad and engine guys were sitting in the air-conditioned common room as Casey walked from his stuffy office over to the coffee machine. Herrmann spoke to him from where he was sitting at the table.
"So, lieutenant, what happened to your arm?"
Casey turned to look at him. "Why? Got a betting pool going?" he smiled.
Cruz and Otis shared a quick glance at each other, Herrmann just watched Casey expectantly.
Dawson looked up from the magazine she was reading and grinned widely. "He slipped over, cut himself on the knife he was holding. Ended up with fifty-four stitches." She broke into laughter and everyone else joined in, assuming it must have been a funny incident for Dawson to be laughing so hard.
Casey looked around at all the laughing faces. Everyone except Severide that is. He wasn't laughing at all, just sitting shaking his head. Casey forced a smile onto his own face, ignoring the comments and going back to his office with his coffee.
After a few moments of listening to the nonsense about Casey slipping over, Severide got up and followed him. He was standing outside his quarters for a couple of minutes, hearing nothing. He knocked twice, opened the door and stepped inside.
"I'm fine, Kelly," Casey said softly, not even looking up from his reports.
"The fact you said that without me even…"
"You always ask if I'm all right, was trying to save your breath."
Severide sat down on Casey's bunk. He had no plan, no clear idea of what he should or shouldn't be saying, just knowing that this situation with Casey was getting becoming too much. It had already become too much before he had landed up in the ER.
Casey eventually broke the silence, still facing the pile of files in front of him. "You don't need to say anything."
"Do you know what you're doing?"
"She loves me."
"She just tells you that…"
"She doesn't really tell me, I just know."
That stopped Severide for a moment, how the hell was he supposed to respond to that? After a moment he spoke. "I'd make some sort of comment about you never knowing what love is but you do know."
Casey turned to face him. "Do I?" An almost unreadable expression crossed his face before it dissolved into a mask. "Well, thanks for your input into my personal life. Maybe you should take a look your own," he retorted.
"That's great, Casey, just throw it all back on me. Like that's going to help you."
"You think I need help?" he scoffed.
"Yeah, I do," Severide answered firmly.
"The last thing I need is help from you. Get out."
Severide opened his mouth to reply but said nothing in the end. Instead he simply got to his feet and walked out, leaving the door open behind himself. As he walked away, he turned back and looked at Casey. He had his head in his hands, elbows propped on the desk, face covered. Severide couldn't leave him on his own like this. He walked back into the office and roughly shoved it closed behind him.
"Let me in, Matt, talk to me…"
It took a moment for Casey to reply. "I've got it under control."
"Yeah? What if that knife is a little deeper next time? What if something else happens…"
"It was just an accident."
One week later Severide was sitting alone in his apartment, beer in one hand and a bowl of nacho chips on his lap, watching a Blackhawks game on the TV when there was a knock on the door. It was almost midnight but he got up and answered it anyway.
"Matt... what are you doing here? It's late..."
"Didn't know where else to go," Casey replied in a low voice, head turned slightly from Severide's steady gaze. Severide stepped back, not wanting to show Casey anything but acceptance. He knew Casey so well and understood how difficult it would have been for him to come to his apartment never mind actually knock on the door and stand waiting for a response.
"Come in, you want a beer?" Severide asked matter of factly, as if there was no swelling around his eye and no bruise on his cheekbone, as if he didn't look like he had been crying.
"Sure..." Casey said, heading to the couch and sitting down.
Severide grabbed a beer from the fridge and passed it to Casey as he sat next to him. He tried to get a better look at his face but knew better than to make it too obvious so he un-paused the TV and they sat in silence for a while, watching the game, slowly drinking their beers.
When the game had ended, Severide guessed Casey would just leave but he stayed where he was on the couch. "Mind if I stay the night here? That beer and all..." Casey asked at length.
"Course you can. You know you're always welcome here… what happened?"
"I… erm… I made mistake, I just… sometimes I still forget stuff…"
Severide frowned. He knew Casey's head injury still plagued him, even almost two years on its effects could still be seen. It was rare but apparently he still suffered with momentary memory lapses. It was never anything serious or significant even, although the headaches he had were significant but manageable.
"That's not an excuse to hit someone," Severide said carefully.
"She didn't…"
"Save it, Matt."
"I forgot to stop by the store on my way home from the construction gig and pick up a list of groceries... don't even remember her asking me to go." Casey just shrugged in resignation.
That got Severide wondering if she could be so manipulative that she was lying to Casey to make him think his head injury was still affecting his memory. Maybe there were no real memory issues, maybe it was only the headaches. He didn't say anything to Casey. He would in the future but right now he felt it was better to remain silent, he knew Casey was likely to get up and leave if he said the wrong thing.
"Matt, if it was the other way around, if she'd not gone to the store when you'd asked and if you got angry and hit her what would you think?"
"That it was inevitable that I'd turn into my father…"
"What she's doing to you is…"
"It's nothing. I've got it under control."
"That's what you said last week. Now there's a hand shaped bruise on your face, you gonna tell me slipped into her fist?" he smiled slightly, trying to keep Casey at ease.
There was a loaded silence, heavy with unspoken words. Casey just kept staring down at the floor. "I didn't slip, or fall, or walk into a door…"
Severide nodded. "I know."
"I'm not going to leave her."
"I know," he nodded again. "It's late. Take my room, I'll sleep on the couch," Severide told him.
The next morning, Casey woke early and left Severide's apartment while he was still fast asleep on the couch. He wrote out a quick thank you note and placed it on the table, making his way out quietly.
When he arrived back at home, Dawson was cooking breakfast. "Hey baby," she smiled, 'Perfect timing." She was filling the plates with food. "It's all ready, your favourite."
"Not hungry, sorry," Casey muttered in response.
"Did you eat at Kelly's?" she asked pointedly.
"What?" he replied slowly. "No."
"Well, you haven't got anywhere else to go, have you?" Dawson shrugged. "So, if you didn't eat there, you eat here. Sit down before it wastes."
They sat down at the dining table. Casey didn't start to eat when Dawson did. "Gabby, last night can't happen again. I know you've been going through a lot in the last few months, losing the baby, going back to ambo…"
"We're not talking about the baby," she retorted in a hard-edged tone, her face showing her annoyance.
"I lost the baby too…" Casey went on, "You can't…"
"What did I just say?!"
"Sorry…" Casey apologised, staring down at the plate of food in front of him. Food that he didn't really want to eat but he guessed he'd have to if it made her leave him alone for once.
"Are you going to eat it or just at it?" Dawson snapped.
"I was trying to have a conversation," Casey ventured hesitantly, "I want to help you get through all…"
"There's nothing wrong," she smiled, "Now, eat before it gets cold."
"Gabby, you hit me last night, and last week…"
She laughed, "Is this what this is all about? Maybe you should just learn to defend yourself! Now, eat, don't be so wasteful." She indicated at his breakfast with her fork, making Casey flinch instinctively and move back slightly.
"I said I wasn't…"
"Eat it!"
Images of his mother came to his mind. He said nothing more and picked up the knife and fork.
"That's better. Is it good?" she asked, smiling, as he took a bite.
He nodded, chewing on a hash brown and some bacon. "Very," he responded monotonously.
When they had finished, Casey got up and wordlessly cleared away the dirty pots and cutlery, then he cleaned and tidied up the kitchen worktops. He went back over to Dawson who was now standing by the table just watching him, revelling in the fact that she had landed herself such a great boyfriend. Compliant, good in bed, well paid and with an extra job that brought in more money, did what he was told. And what's more, she could even keep an eye on him at 51 as well. He was perfect for her.
Casey spoke, "So, the neighbours are having a BBQ later on. I bumped into Conner from next door this morning as l was coming in. Thought I'd go by for an hour or so. Said I'd check with you first, of course…"
"You can't go, we need to go to the store, remember?"
"I can't do both?"
"We've got a lot to get," she told him.
"Do I really need to come with you?" Immediately Casey regretted opening his mouth, and mentally berated himself for his stupidity.
Dawson shot him an angry look. "You're my partner. We're supposed to do things together. Besides, do you really wanna go to the neighbour's BBQ? You hardly know them, what are you going to talk about? Work? You can talk about work with me, I know you a lot better than they do."
"Well, maybe we could have a get together here one day, get to know them better."
"So, are you saying I'm not good enough for you?" Dawson asked.
"Gabby... this isn't about you. I just thought it would be nice to meet other people..."
"Because I'm not good enough for you..." she persisted.
Casey sighed, knowing he was fighting a losing battle here. He shook his head. He'd had enough now. "This isn't about you," he repeated. "I'm going over to the neighbours later, they're nice people, it'll be good." He turned away but she grabbed his wrist. "Gabby, let go of me. You can't stop me from doing anything. What are you going to do? Lock me in the apartment?"
"You don't want to go. They'll ask you how you got that bruise on your face and what are you going to tell them?"
"What if I told them the truth? What if I told everyone the truth? You hit me. You got annoyed because I forgot to go to the store and you hit me."
"I said I was sorry, and it won't happen again, ok, baby? I promise."
The hard grasp on his wrist loosened.
"I know… I know, it's ok, I'm sorry too. I won't go. We'll go to the store and then spend the day together if that makes you happy."
Dawson nodded, her face softening now she had his agreement. "Thanks for clearing away the dishes."
"Thanks for cooking," he reciprocated, leaning in and giving her a soft kiss before he headed off to the bathroom for a quick shower.
Casey took his clothes off and stared at his reflection in the steaming up mirror. The bruise on his left cheekbone and temple didn't look as bad as it had felt when Dawson's fist had collided with his face. He had been shocked when it happened, although not nearly as shocked as the first time a few months back. He hadn't quite believed it until he had lifted a hand to his nose and his fingers came away covered in blood. Her outbursts didn't come very often but they seemed to be on the increase and that worried Casey. He didn't seem to be able to stop them, even when he was careful. He always seemed to be upsetting her and making her mad, no matter what he did. He just never seemed to be able to do the right thing any more.
A month passed by, the wound on the underside of Casey's arm had knitted neatly together, it had scarred as expected. Things between Dawson and Casey were going well, which was to say that things weren't going badly. Severide was trying to keep his distance from Casey, other than professionally they'd hardly spoken since Severide had woken to discover the note Casey had left for him.
Casey was sitting in the bar at Molly's when Severide walked in, he wanted to head straight over to him but he went over to Tony and Capp who were sitting at one of the tables instead. The night wore on and Casey remained at the bar.
As Severide ordered another drink from Herrmann he overheard Casey talking to Dawson who was working behind the bar.
"Will you stay 'til closing?" Dawson asked him, passing him another drink.
"Of course I will," Casey smiled, there was a slight slur to his voice making Severide wonder how many beers he'd drank.
"Good. You can help me clear up," she responded appreciatively.
Severide took his drink from Herrmann and went back over to the others, it wasn't long until he decided to call it a night though. Dawson was in the back room and Casey was now looking a little worse for wear.
"Enjoying the free drinks?" Severide quipped as he brushed passed him.
"Not free," Casey responded after a moment, a small frown on his face.
"Thought they were, the way you've been knocking them back…"
Casey's face was a mask. "I can sit here and enjoy myself…"
"You've been on your own most the night. If you wanna drink maybe you should join us next time…"
"Oh, are we best friends again now?"
"What?"
"You've been avoiding me for weeks…" Casey slurred, his voice laced with alcohol.
"Yeah," he nodded. He glanced over at Dawson who was now closing the door to the back room. "Guess I have been… but I can't watch you…"
"Save it, Severide…" Casey's eyes hardened. "Just 'cause you can't make a relationship last doesn't mean I can't…"
"Fuck you, Casey."
Casey turned his head and watched Severide leave, his face no longer a mask. He swallowed and turned back to his drink, finishing off the bottle in one quick gulp.
Dawson arrived back in front of him, about to pass him another beer when he stopped her. "Sorry, baby, I feel pretty rough. Think I'm gonna have to go home, I'll get a cab, you should drive my truck back…"
"You said you'd stay and help me?"
"I know but…"
"Matt…"
"Yeah, sure, fine… can I have some chips or something?" he asked her,
"You know they're not healthy for you. Here, have another drink."
Casey didn't remember much after that. He woke up naked in their bed the morning after, or more precisely, late the morning after. His body was sore and his head was throbbing dizzyingly. So much so that he moved he retched over the side of the bed, brining up nothing but liquid as he'd not eaten anything since breakfast the day before.
Dawson was sitting in the lounge area, curled up on the couch, smiling at whatever it was she was watching on the TV when Casey appeared from the bedroom. He'd cleared up the water bile from the floor by his side of the bed. He'd showered, taken some painkillers and still felt little better.
She stood up. "How are you feeling? Sit down, I'll get you some breakfast…"
He shook head, heading over to her. "Don't think I can stomach anything."
"Well, sit down, we can spend the day on the couch together. I'm working again tonight, but you'll still come with me?"
"Yeah, maybe, see how I feel, might just need to stay in, get some sleep before shift tomorrow…"
"You could always call in sick."
"Not sick. Hungover…" he grumbled, berating himself for drinking so much, he never used to drink that much.
"Well, maybe you should have stopped drinking," she smiled at him, stroking his arm now they were sitting on the couch together.
"Yeah…"
A week has passed by since Severide had butted heads with Casey at Molly's. He was more than annoyed when he heard a tentative knock at his door. He'd only just sat down for the first time that day and it was past 10pm. His annoyance quickly turned into concern when he saw Casey through the peephole.
"I'm sorry…" Casey muttered immediately when the door opened.
Severide was just standing there taking in his appearance. There was a small cut above Casey's eye, and his eyes themselves lacked their usual spark, he was worn and exhausted.
Casey spoke before Severide could say anything. "I'm sorry about everything. I know you hate me right now but…"
"Come in," Severide said. "And Matt, I could never hate you… now, sit down before you fall down." He placed his gentle hands on Casey's shoulders and led him carefully to the nearest chair.
Casey sat tensely in the chair as Severide knelt down in front of him.
"This needs to stop happening," Severide said, examining the cut above Casey's eye. "Is this it?"
Casey remained silent.
Severide didn't like the way he was clutching at his side. "Matt?"
"I'm sorry…" Casey began.
"What happened?" he asked softly, hoping to coax the truth out of him.
"I didn't do anything to stop her…"
"Would you ever?" Severide knew he'd never hit Dawson back.
"I wanted to," he responded, ashamed. "I left her."
"Ok, good," Severide nodded. "I was getting tired of seeing what she was doing to you," he smiled at him, hoping to put him at ease with the lightness in his tone.
Casey was shaking his head. "I love her… I thought she loved me…"
"I know. And I'm glad you came here…"
"Was gonna go to the hospital but I…"
"Wait. Hold up. Matt, where are you hurt…"
"… didn't want them to see…"
"What happened?" Severide asked again.
"I just lay there…"
Severide's concern was growing more intense by the second. A million scenarios were rushing through his head.
"I didn't want to do it… I was tired… and then after… after… I just lay there and she… my chest… I should've…"
"There's no should've about it," Severide told him. "Matt, I think I should take you to the hospital and…"
"No one can see…"
"Will you let me see? Let me see how bad it is? You came here for a reason even if it was just…"
"It was automatic."
"That's good. I'm glad you feel safe with me…"
"Am I?"
"Of course you are…"
"You won't tell?" Casey asked, too exhausted and in too much pain to be remotely concerned at how childlike the question seemed when it left his lips.
"I won't tell. Even if we have to go to the hospital. Do you trust me?"
"I don't think I trust anyone… but…" Casey's voice cracked, "But it hurts… it really hurts… I'm sorry…"
"Can I take your shirt off?"
Casey shook his head, still grasping his side with his right arm.
"Matt, I need to…"
"No, it's because it…"
"Because it hurts, ok," he nodded. "I'll be right back." When Severide returned he was carrying a small box of first aid items and some sharp scissors. "Hope you're not too attached to this shirt," he said as he brought the scissors to it and began to cut.
Casey's winced a little as the cold metal of the blades touched his skin a couple of times.
"Sorry, almost done."
"Just cold," Casey responded.
"Jesus… Matt…" Severide sat back and was looking at Casey's heavily bruised left side, the colours that marred his skin ranged in intensity. "Matt… I… how long was she…"
"I think I blacked out. She was gone when I woke up… I didn't move I'm sorry, I just lay there whilst she…"
"Kicked the shit out of you…" Severide muttered.
"I'm sorry, I didn't…"
"No, no, Matt, I didn't mean it like that."
"Sorry, I'm…"
"You're hurting," Severide spoke, "Physically and emotionally."
Casey swallowed. "I hate how I treated you…"
Severide just shook his head. "I just felt helpless, Matt."
"I'm sorry."
"I know." He sat back again and looked at Casey. "I really think we need to go to the hospital, I'm no expert but even I know some of your ribs are broken. What happened exactly?"
"I… I was tired… I was so tired… I was trying so hard to help her and…"
"And?"
"And to… to stop forgetting things she was telling me… I mean, I almost got Herrmann killed last shift… she's right, my head is…"
"Matt, there's nothing wrong with your head… what happened?"
"Everything's just been…" he looked away, "Everything's just been so tiring recently, whatever I did, it wasn't the right thing and tonight I… I ended it… and she… she… I still couldn't stop her and then after… after she…"
"When you woke up she was gone?" Severide questioned.
"I don't know where."
"Ok, well, we're gonna go to the hospital just to check that you're really all right, we won't tell them what happened, ok? Matt?"
"Ok."
"Good. Then you're gonna stay with me, you're also gonna take the next couple of shifts off, you can't work like this, and… Matt, we need to talk to Boden, we don't need to give him any details but I really think we need to get Dawson transferred onto another watch at least…"
"No, I…"
"Matt, it's fine, and you know what, I have a feeling we may not actually need to talk to Boden."
A frown crept onto Casey's weary face. "What do you mean?"
"I think she's realised what she's done, or at the very least she's decided it is over, and I don't think she'll want to be at work with you. I think this is all gonna work out…"
"I love her… but it was never just an accident..."
"You'll get through this. I know you will."
The End