Title: Backdraft
Summary: A tragic death. A false charge. An emotional hearing. After being emotionally drained Casey just needed something…a little stronger. A drink…and a friendly shoulder to lean on. Based on eppy 2.17 'When Things Got Rough' Contains some spoilers Missing broment scene
Disclaimer: Chicago Fire and its characters are the property of Dick Wolfe, NBC and….well sadly not me
A/N: Wow okay so it's been over a month maybe more that we were actually inspired to write an actual eppy OS. But we LOVED the broments in last nights eppy...some tense and some sweet and some emotional and some were just a knowing glance! So I hope we did this justice and you enjoy the #teamsevasey bromance a little. Thanks!
Warning: might need a Kleenex (just a precaution)
Note: "Words in double quotes and italics taken directly from the eppy"
"Lieutenant Casey you were first on scene. Can you tell us what happened after you went in?"
Casey stares at the dark wood on the bar table about a foot below his watery blue gaze; the voice of the hearing administrator still echoing in his head a few hours later. To say the wrongful death hearing was taking its toll on him was an understatement. It was killing him inside. They were cleared but inside his mind that was little consolation he was already judged – by himself. But he knows this event forced him to relieve another. And it wasn't the husband's life that he failed to save – it was someone else…someone precious to him even now. And that was slowly destroying him from the inside out.
"Whadda you'll have?"
He hears the bartender's question and looks up, his brain yelling at his emotions to remain in check and his tears to be kept at bay. Have a drink and then go home and drown yourself in misery...not here! "I…." Casey tries but then closes his mouth, his brain whisking him back into the intense heat of the wicked apartment fire a few days earlier. He hears his own voice calling out orders to his team. The flames were intense and every second counted. Get in, find survivors, and get out. Simple. Routine. Not that day.
"FIRE DEPARTMENT! CALL OUT!"
"I…" Casey tries one more as he gives his head a shake and then looks away; a few wondering eyes looking at him in wonder before they turn back to their own business. "Backdraft…"
"What?"
"Backdraft," Casey whispers as he looks back down.
"You want a backdraft? You eaten yet?" The bartender asks in genuine concern; knowing what havoc the potent drink concoction could cause on an empty stomach; the liquid contents boasting the ability to inebriate someone faster than most alcoholic mixes.
But Casey doesn't hear the bartender – instead his mind is fixated on events in that small hearing room. Is that what killed them Lieutenant Casey? He hears the question at the inquest board and then nods. But he's nodding to the bartender, in the hearing he remained placid – Boden piping up that they didn't know the cause of fire at that time.
"Okay one backdraft comin' right up."
He watches the bartender turn around and gather the necessary ingredients for the somewhat elaborate cocktail. Casey's watery blue eyes fix on the bar tender as he pours equal amounts of 151 and Grand Marnier into a snifter. He closes his eyes, praying for the crying to stop…the mother's cries. He could only imagine the horror she faced when she realized her husband was pulling his family under him; giving his life – making the ultimate selfless sacrifice. But it's not until the mixture is set ablaze as per the next step in the process that he literally freezes; hearing his own cries for help and mercy as the flames start to lick his back, kiss his neck – suck the very life force from his body.
"What happened next Lieutenant Casey?"
The glass is slowly brought over to him and a coaster is offered.
"No," Casey whispers as he uses his hand to seal the top of the glass, not caring about the small burn to his palm as it puts out the flames a few seconds later. He once again refuses the coaster and straw to keep the smoky vapors intact; the rest of the apparatus needed for the drink to be fully appreciated.
"Pretty powerful on its own."
"Good," Casey retorts sourly as he pushes the coaster offering away. He downs the potent shot; his eyes squeezing shut as the golden poison starts to sear his tender insides. Casey looks down at the empty glass, his nose taking in the faint smell of smoke as his mind is once again whisked into the fiery abyss.
"I GOT ONE!" Casey hears his own voice flood his ear drums as he sees himself staring down at the charred hand, his eyes squinting into the taunting smoke as it teasingly clears for a few seconds to reveal a man's frame. Obviously dead. The beast smiles in victory, daring the brave firefighter to move on and let him continue his horrible feeding. Casey doesn't move. He's been trained to stare the beast down and leave on his own terms. Casey writes off the charred figured as a recovery mission and radios his findings. But cruel fate has other ideas in mind for the selfless firefighter.
"I moved closer and felt a man's arm. I could tell it was burned pretty badly but then I reached out further and felt several small bodies beneath him. I called into the radio for help…I…Oh god…." He remembers whispering as he stood transfixed in the superheated furnace a few seconds – unable to move; the beast laughing in his ear. Unwilling to move. His eyes not blinking and his breath catching as he pulled the hand back and saw a smaller hand underneath. They're alive! Move! The father was dead. He had died to save his family. Made the ultimate sacrifice that they as professional first responders were trained to make. This man…this father…he wasn't one of them but he died so they could live. What he said to the mother was the absolute truth…
"Mrs. Brooker I am lucky enough to work with some of the best, bravest firefighters in the world…but what your husband did to save his family… that was the bravest thing I've ever seen."
A small but audible sob escapes his lips, his present actions mirroring those of the obviously distraught mother offered hours earlier; prompting the bar tender to turn back in concern.
"You sure you're okay?"
"I tried to save them," Casey whispers as the bartender pauses and looks at him in concern. "I tried…it was too late."
"Save who?"
"Give me another."
"You sure you don't want just coffee or something?"
"No…I want something stronger…want to forget…just forget," Casey whispers as he looks down; his eyes freshly watering as he hears the children screaming; the father's calm voice trying to reassure his beloved family that they would be okay. Trust him…they'd be okay. He squeezes his eyes shut as he tries to drown out the man's silent screams as he tries to be brave for his family – brave but probably terrified. He burnt to death…what did he feel? What were his last thoughts? His last words? What did he say? Did he say he was scared? Did he tell them not to worry? That they would be okay? That the fire department was on its way? Did he tell them he loves them one last time?
"Ah damn!" Casey hisses at the same moment the bartender offers him the second round of the potent fiery drink. But with Casey's nerves already shot, the flaming glass slightly spills, splashing the soft skin on the side of his hand with superheated liquid and forcing the skin to instantly sizzle.
"Damn let me…"
"It's fine!" Casey snaps as he blows out the flame and downs the shot in seconds; the bar tender shaking his head as he snatches the empty glass from Casey's jittery grasp and turns away. Casey's watery eyes glance down at the pink skin as it starts to fester; his brow furrowing but his mind replacing the charred hand with his own. He feels his body shudder and he quickly wipes his eyes and looks away. But moving too fast with only the highly concentrated alcohol in his system proves to be foolish as the room starts to spin. He looks back at the bartender who starts to put away the ingredients for the strong cocktail.
"Another!"
"You haven't eaten tonight have you?" The bartender tosses back.
"He…died for them," Casey whispers as the bartender leans in closer.
"Who?"
"Mr. Brooker," Casey finally admits. "When we got there the building was on fire…we were too late. He was…already dead," Casey's voice breaks as the bartender looks at him in sympathy.
"Which House?"
"51," Casey answers absently. "Another."
The bartender silently pulls back and turns around. However, instead of starting to make the drink as requested he pulls his phone and calls Firehouse 51, asking if they know someone named Casey and being put through to someone named Severide. "He's pounding back Backdrafts and he's uh…he's in bad shape." With the comforting knowledge that the man named Severide was on his way the bartender turns back to Casey with a sympathetic expression. He'd watch over the obviously distraught firefighter until his friend arrived to take him home. As he watches the young man's eyes water once more he can't imagine what horrors he's seeing now…what terrible tragedy he faced on the job to put him into such a morbid stupor. Can't imagine. And in a way…is thankful.
XXXXXXXX
"Yeah I'll be right over," Severide hangs up and then races for his car outside. On the ride over to the bar, his mind travels back in time a few hours. Casey's actions were somewhat predictable. And after being in the hot seat…he couldn't blame him for wanting to escape and drown his sorrows...
Right after the hearing, Severide watched Casey get up and head for the door at a brisk pace; the others lingering behind to talk about the small victory they had just attained – Mrs. Brooker had dropped the wrongful death suit and made her own quick exit to break down further but in private. But in their minds the victory was bittersweet – they were rightfully cleared but the family was going home to relive the horrors of that near death experience over and over and over…knowing the one man that gave their life so that they could live would never be around to hear them say thank you…or you were amazing or…I love you – ever again. They had all lost that day.
As soon as he heard Casey's frantic call over the radio he remembers rushing into action; the flames hot on his back and instantly forcing the sweat inside his mask to superheat a little bit faster. He reached Casey's side and they only had to lock eyes for a second to know that Casey had found something terrible. His eyes drop to follow Casey's and he sees it – the charred father, the mother and two dear children nestled underneath his unmoving frame. He remembers cursing and yelling and praying at the same time, all in that same second – everything of course moot.
He and Casey were the last to clear the inferno – carrying out the father between the two of them and placing him on the waiting stretcher. The rest of the teams pull back, knowing the attempts at reviving the fire beaten father were utterly pointless. His eyes watch Casey, knowing that as strong and brave as his friend is, certain things affect him more than others – this was one of those times. It was obvious the father was dead but just as Shay and Dawson step back, Casey rushes up; Severide's eyes watching in growing concern.
"Come on! Come on!" Casey's growls at the corpse force all watching to just stare in misery.
"Casey…"
"I'm trying here!" Casey snapped at Shay; Severide's lips pursing. But he knows in that moment the same as Casey does – he's not trying to revive the father – he was trying to revive Hallie. This current nightmare had only served to resurrect another.
"Let him try," Severide told Shay who looks at Dawson; both remaining in place as Casey futilely pumps on the man's unresponsive chest. Finally Casey stops; the small voice in his head being heard and telling him it was over. He was dead. Step back. The silence that followed the ambulance racing away was almost eerie; the two teams working in morbid silence as they clean up their gear, climb on board the trucks and pull away; the rest left up to the AI Team to figure out.
"I could really use a beer right now," Severide tossed out as they enter the main eating area of Firehouse 51 about half hour later, the mood somber and everyone's face downcast and depression riddled; the day's horrific events taking their toll on Chicago's Bravest.
"I could use something stronger," Casey retorted as he passed by with a stiff expression.
Severide watched Casey head for the kitchen area and frowns, his mind telling him to keep an eye on Casey; the silent duties of a watchful older brother. He notices Casey offer everyone a tight lipped smile but inside he knows his friend is hurting. This isn't good…he needs to let it out or he'll explode…come on Matt….you gotta talk about this…his mind begs as he casually loiters – his eyes fixed on Casey's tense posture. But then maybe this day just needs to pass and he'll be fine, he tries to inwardly reason. They've found victims before and this…ah hell today was different, he inwardly acknowledges. Casey was the first one to uncover the horrible truth – the father giving his life so his family could live. That…that would haunt them all for a few days; Casey more so.
Best thing he can do is just…but fate once again intervenes and turns something seemingly innocent into a hellish nightmare. It was the opportunity to take the little girls teddy bear to her at the hospital; something that Casey jumped at the opportunity to do.
"I'll take it over…see how they're doing."
But in Casey's emotionally charged frame of mind, he wasn't about to let him go alone. "I'll come with," Severide quickly volunteers and the journey is on. He tries to keep the conversation light on the ride over but from Casey's short, mostly contrite answers he knows his friend is hurting.
"Wanna talk about it?"
"No, I'm fine. I just…this one will take a while to get over."
"Wanna go a few rounds or something after shift?"
"No I just…I'm okay," Casey retorted with a tight lipped nod. "I just want to see how they are. Maybe that will help ease some of the um pain…I'm okay."
But as they near the entrance to the ER, Severide's mind was thinking the same thing; the mother would be distraught but at least thank them for saving her and her children. They were, to pardon the expression, dead wrong.
"Are you the ones who were there?" Severide watched her storm up to Casey, her eyes fixating on him and in that moment demanding of him alone the reason for something he was powerless to prevent; demand answers he didn't have. Then…then she damned him – damned all of them to emotional hell. "How can you come here? If you had gotten us out sooner, my children would still have a father!"
With that the mother yanked the bear from Casey's now trembling grasp and storms away; Casey's head slightly shaking but his body remaining in place as his jaw sets and his brain screams at him to be calm.
"She's angry," Severide whispered as his hand rests protectively on Casey's shoulder.
"She's right," he replied in a low tone, his eyes glued to the entrance to the dimly lit hospital room.
"Matt…" Severide gently but firmly turns his friend to face him. In that moment a single tear escapes his already watery sapphire pools, forcing Severide's heart to shatter as Casey's fingers swiftly brush it away. "She's angry and distraught and…we get that. She'd lash out at any one of us that came here."
"He probably told her that they'd be fine and…"
"No," Severide tenderly snapped as Casey looks up with a defeated expression. "Don't do this. You trying to figure out what he would have said to them isn't fair to you."
"Don't you think about it!" Casey snapped back as he pulls away in anger and storms toward the entrance of the ER.
"Yes I do think about it! I saw his charred body the same as you!" Severide offered a bit loudly and then recants when two people look up in horror. "I saw…look, she's angry but this wasn't your fault. It wasn't any of our faults! The AI team will figure out wh…"
"That makes it better?" Casey argued back as he nears Severide's car and then stops. "He probably told them that…" Casey pauses as his voice breaks and he looks away shaking his head. "The fire department would be there soon…everything would be okay. That they'd…all be okay."
A small sob escaped his lips before he quickly recovers and then turns to Severide with a watery but placid expression. Nothing more is said. The two of them get into the car and head back to the House; hoping and praying the rest of the day would pass by without further devastating incident.
But it's not long before fate once again rears its ugly head and they are hit with something most would consider cowardly after all they had done – a wrongful death law suit. Severide watched Casey pull away and head toward the back room, his lips growling under his breath, his mind not wanting anyone to see him starting to break down.
"Matt…"
"I just need a few Kelly!" Casey had called back before he entered the small medical room and slammed the door shut.
"Come on, open up," Severide groaned as he tried the door handle but to no avail. Finally, after what seems like a small eternity, the door slowly opens and Casey's defeated expression appears.
"After all we did…"
"This wasn't our fault," Severide tries to protest.
"Does that make you feel better!" Casey spat as he tried to push past. "Get out of my way!"
"Hold on a second. She was angry and pissed that…hey wait…"
"I'll see you later."
And that was it. He could only watch Casey's tight shoulders disappear down the hallway and into the rest of the group, a slowly ticking time bomb waiting to go off. Watching Casey slowly tick down to inner self-destruction was painful for him. He tried on a few occasions to get Casey to open up – but to no avail. Casey would just paste on his trademark tight lipped smile, tell everyone he was fine and then go about his day like nothing was wrong. Slowly waiting to self-destruct. The day of the hearing was almost as tormented as the accident itself. Watching Casey put on such a brave face and sit before his chief accuser with soft watery eyes and tightly closed fists was almost unbearable to him seated a few feet away. Casey was first in the hot seat and he had chosen to sit beside him to add testimony if necessary. But in his mind and he had hoped in Casey's that it was also a sign of brotherly support.
But when Casey's voice cracked and his words died, inside his heart was pierced through.
"I moved closer and felt a man's arm. I could tell it was burned pretty badly and I reached out further and felt several small bodies beneath him. I called into the radio for help. When we rolled the man off his family we felt the children moving and we were extremely relieved…. Uh…."
It was taking him all it had inside to hold back any kind of fluid emotion but Casey was different in that regard than him; he had held it in until he needed a moment, knowing that in that moment Severide would step up and continue – having his back without question. And he did. Always.
"Lieutenant Casey handed the children off to the firefighters one by one. Then the mother. Then he and I lifted Mr. Brooker together."
Casey's soft watery eyes had looked over at him, uttering a silent but very telling – thank you. Casey is then able to continue, delivering a sentence with such heartfelt admiration and praise that it resounded with firefighters everywhere. How could a man who so willingly gave his life so that others might live not be recognized. The mother broke down. The suit was dropped. They were exonerated. Life went on.
But as he watched Casey get up he knew in that moment, the inner ticking time bomb was about to explode. And it did. He raced after Casey's rapidly moving frame, cursing when he was stopped; reaching the street just in time to see Casey get in a cab and head into the night.
"Damn it Matt!" Severide cursed as he headed back to the Firehouse, telling himself that Matt would have to come back to get his truck. He'd be wrong. Instead he was now on another rescue mission – save Casey from himself. He enters the dimly lit bar just in time to see Casey handed what looked like a Backdraft cocktail and down it rapidly. Damn that stuff's potent! Hope it's only his first, he falsely concludes.
Severide approaches Casey's slightly hunched over posture and nods to the bar tender that he was the person there to rescue his friend.
"Matt?" Severide's soft voice breaks into Casey's morbid thoughts, forcing him to look up in soft misery.
"Whadda ya doing here?" Casey slightly slurs his word and frowns before looking back at the bartender and gesturing for another.
"How many has he had?"
"Three backdraft on an empty stomach."
"Three? Wow buddy you gotta pace yourself," Severide gently retorts as he shakes his head at the bartender, signaling for him to not make Casey another.
"I gotta…pace…myself…thought you said pee!" Casey snickers as Severide shakes his head but smiling nonetheless. But that drunken merriment is short lived when he sees Casey trying to get another.
"He's had enough," Severide finally intervenes.
"You're not my damn father Severide!" Casey snaps as Severide's brow furrows and the bartender hands him a small menu.
"He needs food."
"I'm not…hungry!" He declares loudly as he pushes the menu away and tries to stand up. But in doing so his hand snags the edge of the bar and the freshly burnt skin forces his lips to utter a painful gasp.
"What the…hell?" Severide firmly grabs Casey's wrist and looks at the puffy skin. "What happened?" He asks in a softer tone as he notices Casey's eyes water once more; the two of them locking glances for a few tormented moments. "When did this happen? Tonight?"
"I tried to save her."
"What?"
"Hallie…I tried…" his voice dies out as he looks away in abject sorrow. "I tried."
"Matt…"
"I tried to save Mr. Brooker."
"He was already dead. She was already dead," Severide states in a low but firm tone, Casey looking at him in sorrow. "None of it was your fault."
"You weren't first on scene. I was…it was my fault!"
"Two coffee's please. Black."
"One more Backdraft!"
"You're done!"
"Piss off Severide!"
"First off, stop calling me by my last name when we're not in the field," Severide retorts with a small chuckle as Casey's lips purse. "You're done with the strong drinks Matt. Done."
"I tried."
"No one is faulting you."
"I am," he whispers as he looks away, his right hand absently fiddling with a nearby sugar packet; his left still under Severide's watchful gaze.
"How did you burn your hand?"
"Fire," Casey offers in a tone so low, only Severide's close proximity allowed him the privilege of hearing the confession. Casey's lips start to offer a small snicker before his expression clouds once more. "I see my hand there Kelly…when I close my eyes I see my hand there. I hear my voice telling Hallie it'll be okay…I tried…to save her. He saved them. I…I couldn't."
"Matt…"
"I…" Casey starts and then stops. He knows in that moment that he can't tell Casey to stop…he has to let it out. "I see myself cover her…she's not moving but I cover her anyways. I see my hand…I feel the fire…I just…I tried."
Severide's arm tenderly drapes across Casey's slightly shaking shoulders; Casey's frame taking instant relief in the show of brotherly support as he leans into Severide's frame a few moments for some added comfort. The two of them sit in silence a bit longer as Casey's lips quiver and his chest starts to slightly heave.
Severide places the money on the bar to cover Casey's drinks and then looks at him in soft misery. "Come with me," Severide whispers as he slowly gets up, knowing inside that Casey needs to get it out. Without saying a word he directs Casey to the back exit door; the two of them entering the cool night air in morbid silence.
"Kelly…"
"Let it out Matt. You can't keep holding it all in."
"WHY NOT!" Casey shouts as he pulls away; not yelling at Severide but just…yelling. "I TRIED TO SAVE HER! I TRIED! I WAS THERE FIRST…I PULLED HIM OFF…I TRIED!"
Casey's head drops as he folds over, his hands resting on his knees as his lips spew forth a combination of angry curses, tormented sobs, some angry bile and incoherent sentences – his emotionally charged brain mixing up Hallie's murder and Mr. Brooker's unfortunate death.
"I…T-TRIED!" Casey sobs as only Severide and the walls of the darkened building stand guard as silent but watchful witnesses as one man finally displays his humanity and breaks down. "Oh god I tried." Casey's face flushes and his chest starts to heave as his brain races to expel whatever bits of angry emotional buildup had been accumulating over the past few days. Now was the time to let it out. Let it all out. Tonight. Right now.
Severide finally moves in closer, helping Casey's shuddering frame to stand upright and holding his arms until he was sure his legs wouldn't buckle. He wouldn't scold Casey for mixing up Hallie's murder with this incident as in Casey's mind that memory will forever be there. Lurking. Waiting for the right time to resurface and emotionally cripple him. Like tonight. Right now.
"It's going to be okay," Severide finally offers, knowing the words might sound silly or a bit contrived but that Casey would survive; he'd sleep this off…get up the next day and get back to work like tonight was nothing more than a blip on his emotional radar. But much like Hallie's death, this too would be tucked away…waiting for another night to reveal itself. Waiting.
He starts to steer Casey toward the mouth of the alleyway, telling him he was going to take him back to his loft; Shay and Dawson were still at Molly's partying. The quiet surroundings would help Matt unwind a bit more and then he would be able to go back to his routine stoic self.
"We'll get that hand tended to while we wait for pizza to arrive."
"Can we watch a movie also?"
"Which one?"
"Backdraft," Casey gently snickers as Severide shakes his head.
"Smart ass," he tosses back as they reach end of the alley and head toward Severide's waiting car. "You had three of those?"
"And I can walk a straight line," Casey brags prematurely.
"You just tripped," Severide chuckles as he grabs Casey's arm to keep him from falling further.
"You had my back."
"Always," Severide promises as he helps Casey get into the front seat and then closes the door. The two of them make small talk about the bar, the drink and the movie with the same name; the topic about Mr. Brooker's death and Casey's role in the tormented scheme on hold until they were inside Severide's quiet loft apartment.
Casey never makes it home, he passes out on Severide's couch; a place Severide had actually hoped he would end up, especially after drinking what he did and being as drained as he was. He covers him with a blanket and then turns off the light; the words of Kurt Russell's iconic character in the movie backdraft echoing in the stillness…that's my brother.
In the end, they'd have each other's backs. No matter what. Always.
A/N: So…how was it? Am I still rusty? BTW the 'Backdraft' drink is an actual drink and its pretty potent! Well I hope you liked this little broment a bit. It was a tad emotional in places but was supposed to be right? would love your thoughts so please do review before you go and thanks so much!