Author's notes: I wrote this after last week's episode; I really wanted a scene with the entire crew finding out Otis was going on medical leave and showing him some support, and since I didn't get it, I put finger to keyboard and out this came. I don't have a beta within the Chicago Fire fandom as this is my first (completed) Chicago Fire story. I hope you like!
This Goodbye is Only Temporary
Otis emptied his work locker into a box slowly, half paranoid that Mouch or Hermann might catch him. His career as a firefighter, his entire life, fit into that box, and the thought made him feel hollow. He inhaled sharply as he pulled down the last of his things from the locker door—a picture of the crew from Truck 81. It was an older picture—Mills was front and center. Otis sighed as he placed the photo on top of the rest of his things, noting the smile on his own face in the picture and wondering if he could ever be as happy somewhere else as he'd been here.
When he closed the door to his locker, the piece of tape with his name written on it made him pause. Did it he take it down or leave it? He didn't know how long he'd be gone, but for now his medical leave was set for four weeks. From there, it would depend on how his body responded to treatment. He tried not to think about his chances of never coming back. He punched the locker right under his name, and, despite the urge to tear the piece of tape from the metal door, he picked the box up from the bench and hurried away.
He had picked a good time to clear out his locker, though this had been strategic. It was Kap's turn to make lunch and no one in the firehouse would miss that meal. He carried the box to the garage and dropped it at the exit, then turned back for one last conversation before he left.
Casey was in his office with Dawson; apparently he wasn't the only one missing out on the great food. Their conversation looked intent, and normally Otis would hate to interrupt. Only he needed to.
When he knocked on the door, Casey and Dawson looked only slightly annoyed at the interruption.
"Hey, sorry to cut in, Lieutenant." He hoped addressing Casey formally would catch his attention.
"It's fine, Otis," Casey replied diplomatically, standing up a little straighter. "What's up?"
"I need to talk to you. It's about work." He looked at Dawson, who immediately jumped up.
"No problem, I need to go get some of Kap's roast beef before the vultures eat it all, anyway." She patted Otis on the back with a warm smile as she passed, and Otis knew he was forgiven the intrusion. "See you out there in a few?"
He nodded and returned the smile, despite the lie in his gesture. Dawson closed the door behind him and Otis felt his nerves return in full force. Suddenly, he wished he'd told his chief and lieutenant the news at the same time so he wouldn't have to do it twice.
"What's going on?" Casey leaned back in his chair and pointed Otis to the other chair.
Rubbing his knees as he sat, Otis took a deep breath, suddenly searching for words. This had been easier with Boden. Casey frowned.
"I talked to Boden already," Otis blurted out before the lieutenant could say anything. Casey nodded, and Otis took the invitation to continue.
"I was just diagnosed with ITP. It's a rare disorder… Basically, I have low levels of platelets in my blood and so my blood isn't clotting." He swallowed, ignoring the lump that had been in his throat since he told Boden about his father's leukemia.
Casey's eyebrows raised; he looked stunned. "Otis… wow. I don't know what to say. Is it serious?"
"It can be. It's treatable, and if I respond to the medications well, I should be ok. But while I'm doing the treatment… I can't be a firefighter. I'm on medical leave effective immediately." He exhaled as he finished the words, relieved.
Casey didn't speak for a moment. Otis looked to the floor, uncomfortable as he waited, even if he didn't fully understand why. He knew Casey would be supportive, because he'd known Casey for years and that's just who he was.
Sure enough, Casey stood and placed a firm hand on Otis' shoulder.
"What do you need?"
The question reminded Otis of the lump in his throat, and he desperately fought back tears. He could not let Casey see him cry like Boden had. He could not walk out of the lieutenant's office and risk any of his coworkers seeing him like this, either. They'd tease him for the rest of his life, however long that may be.
He hung his head, took a minute to gather himself and then smiled up at Casey. "I just need to get back to work as soon as possible."
Casey nodded. "You will, Brian. You will." He had no idea how close his words were to Boden's, but they were just as comforting to Otis as they had been the first time. "We'll all be here for you, any time. Anything you need. Always."
He'd hoped to slip out quietly; Otis didn't want to make a bigger deal out of leaving than need be. Besides, he'd still see everyone at the bar. He didn't feel up to long goodbyes.
Unfortunately Casey thought differently on the matter. When they stepped out of Casey's office, the lieutenant grabbed Otis' arm and pulled him into the kitchen, where everyone ate, laughing and joking with each other. Otis gave a half smile at the sight, thinking about how much he was going to miss this.
"Guys, listen up!" Casey called. Boden walked in from behind them and nodded at Otis. Everyone quieted down, and Otis knew Boden's presence had alerted everyone that something was happening. Otis spotted Cruz at the long table, and Cruz gave him a nod of support. Brett, sitting on the couch next to Mouch, was the only other one in the room who knew what was about to happen.
"Guys, I have an announcement to make," Casey began. He nodded at Otis. "Otis will be leaving us, temporarily." The lieutenant stressed the last word. "He's on medical leave, effective today."
Now came the part Otis had been really hoping to avoid—all the questions, the stares, the looks of shock and pity on his friends' faces. He explained his condition and what it meant, and what the treatment looked like. The entire firehouse listened quietly, seriously.
"Aw, and here I was thinking it was something serious," Hermann joked loudly, making sure everyone heard him. Otis laughed with everyone, his first genuine laugh since he'd received his diagnosis. Hermann always knew when to break the ice and how.
"Yeah, you'll be back with us after the four weeks are over and it'll all be like nothing happened," Mouch added.
Otis felt slightly relieved as his crewmates gathered around, and somewhere between all the hugs, handshakes and pats on the back, Otis realized he would have made a mistake if he had left without saying anything. This was his family as much as his parents, brothers and baba were. He just needed to believe he'd make it back to them.