Disclaimer: I do not own Chicago Fire, nor am I making any money off of this work of fiction.

Author's Note: I'm back! I'm finally on spring break. I apologize for the lateness of this chapter. I had a fair amount of school work due last week, and then I was busy with my job on the weekend, which is why this chapter is so late. I've been working on mapping out the final chapter for this story, and I've already started on the first chapter of my as-yet-untitled sequel to Unglued. It will be set in the same story verse, and Andy will still be around, mainly just because I love to write his goofball ghost ass. That story will be up sometime this week, hopefully. The final chapter to Unglued will be up tomorrow or Wednesday, I absolutely promise.

As always, I am so thankful and appreciative of all the lovely comments that my reviewers send me. Those reviews, as well as the favorites and follows, inspired me to keep writing. Thank you all so much for reading! I always love hearing any thoughts anyone has about my writing, please feel free to send those thoughts my way if you would like.

This chapter contains spoilers for "Virgin Skin" and "Keep Your Mouth Shut). Nothing major though. Just small bits of canon I'm working into my story. Italics are Casey's POV.

Chapter 11

Casey stared at the crisply ironed and starched uniform shirts hanging in his closet. It had been a long time since he'd worn a white shirt and tie as a Lieutenant. That, in itself, would take some getting used to. He only had two more days left before he started work downtown. He felt like he would be on disability forever. The time just did not pass as quickly as he would have liked; he couldn't wait to go back to work. The loneliness had been unbearable. Gabby was still at the Academy during the weekdays, and she seemed tired and distant when she got home in the evenings. She had been around for him since that day Casey had finally come clean to her about the true extent of his injuries, but things between them hadn't really been the same. She seemed colder, somehow, and he wondered if she was planning her escape. Casey hoped he was just being paranoid.

Today was Casey's last trip to the doctor's office for another month. He needed to get re-evaluated to make sure that his medications were doing their job and that there were no new complications with his injury. Even though he had come clean to Severide and Gabby about the hallucinations weeks ago, he hadn't mentioned so far to his doctor the specific fact he was still talking to and seeing Andy.

He didn't plan on telling his doctor today, either.

Casey shut the closet door angrily and flopped on his back on the bed. He stared at the ceiling. It was still early, and Gabby hadn't left for the Academy yet. She had gotten up early and gone for a run. He couldn't drag himself awake this morning to join her; he felt a twinge of guilt at staying behind. He knew he should go out for a run; it might even make him feel better. A run just wasn't happening this morning. He closed his eyes.

"That uniform looks pretty depressing to you, huh?"

Casey turned to his right. Andy was lying next to him, his legs dangling off the edge of the bed. He screwed up his face. "I don't know. Maybe. It'll just take some getting used to, I think. Who knows, office work might really agree with me."

"Bullshit. You look terrified. Is it because of the new job, or is it the fact you have a trip to the doctor in two hours?"

Casey scowled. "Both." He scrubbed a hand through his short hair and over the rough stubble on his face. "I don't think Gabby and I are doing too great, either." He exhaled shakily.

Andy frowned. "What do you mean? I thought you guys were solid."

"I can't explain it. She barely ever looks me in the eyes anymore. I think she's exhausted from the training and everything, but still. I don't know what to think." Casey looked away from Andy. His eyes and face were as warm and gentle as ever; everything about Andy made Casey ache inside, homesick for a place he could never go back to again.

"I'm sorry, Matt. I wish I could do something for you. Kind of tied up, though, with the being dead thing." Andy offered a conciliatory smile tinged with sadness.

"It's okay. I just can't win for losing, you know? Just when I think something good is happening; everything gets yanked out from under me."

"Don't think that way. Don't let yourself get bitter. It doesn't look good on you, Matt." Andy's voice took on a somber tone. "Don't forget you're recovering from a traumatic brain injury. One centimeter to the left, one second too late, you could have been dead or in a coma."

"Thanks for the perspective, Andy. Always helpful." Casey felt a smile on his lips in spite of himself. He heard the sound of a door being unlocked and opened. "Gabs is back. I probably shouldn't let her hear me talking to you. I'm not ready to repeat that conversation."

Andy's face split in a grin. "By all means, kick your best dead friend out. Let the guilt begin. I'll see you later, asshole." Casey blinked and Andy disappeared. He sat up, and a powerful wave of dizziness overtook him. He gripped the quilt until it passed. Gabby hadn't come upstairs yet; at least she didn't see him almost pass out. It didn't seem like she was coming upstairs, anyway. Casey sighed. He could take a shower and get ready to leave for the hospital; he might not even see Gabby until she got home from the Academy later. More fairly depressing thoughts to start the day with.

"Lieutenant Casey, did you realize you've lost weight since last month?" Casey's doctor flipped through papers from his file and drummed his fingers on his knee. "You've lost ten pounds, to be exact. Can you tell me about that? Are you eating regular meals?"

Casey paled. "I think so, usually, yes. A lot of the time I'm just not hungry. I guess I forget to eat sometimes." He couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that he had forgotten to eat so often that he had lost that much weight. He hadn't even noticed anything different, although now that he thought about it, his jeans had seemed looser in the past few weeks.

"How have you been with the medications? Have you experienced any side effects that you can recall?" Casey shook his head, "I can't remember. I don't think so. I've taken them every day, though." Doctor White flipped the file shut. "You're still experiencing some memory loss, then. How about anxiety? Any panic attacks, anything like that?"

Casey shook his head no. "No, nothing like that."

"Seizures?"

"None at all," Casey vehemently denied.

"Any dizziness or balance problems?"

Casey licked his lips warily. He tried to downplay his response, but he had always been a terrible liar. "A little. It comes and goes. It's not too bad, though."

"It's common for someone with a traumatic brain injury to experience vertigo. My concern is that it could potentially affect your return to work." Casey swallowed hard. "I go back to work in just a few days, I don't think that this should change anything." The doctor clasped his hands together. "No, Lieutenant Casey. I mean in the future, if you want to eventually return to firefighting. It's still too early to say, but I know last time you were in, we discussed how you would like to return to your house and continue to work as Lieutenant on your Truck. Right now, that looks like an impossibility. Please understand that I'm not trying to impede your recovery by dumping bad news on you; I just want to be realistic with you. I don't want to give you false hope."

Casey had nothing to say, he just nodded his head, acknowledging but barely hearing the doctor's words. Everything else that the doctor said filtered through a haze of defeat.

"…get these filled. It's an adjusted prescription for your memory loss. I'm going to keep the other medications the same dosages, at least for now. As always, if you notice any abnormal side effects or have any questions later, give me a call."

Casey could hardly believe that after all that, the subject of hallucinating didn't even get brought up. He was both relieved and crushed, and wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible. He thought he was going to throw up. It was now more real, the possibility of never returning to work at 51. Oppression and disappointment weighed heavy on him as he walked out of the hospital. He didn't know why he was so upset; he hadn't gone in today expecting good news. It didn't make the bad news any easier to take. So he had most of his hopes of returning to Truck crushed. Andy was right, as much as he hated to admit it; he was up and walking around, alive. Shouldn't that be enough?

Continued in Chapter 12