Tick, Tick, Tick
"So?"
Casey turned towards Kelly, who was driving him home from the eye doctor's that morning, and asked, "So what?"
Kelly looked over at him and asked, "Like, can you see?"
"Yeah, I can see," Casey replied as he leaned back in his seat, "It just feels like my eyes have been pulled tight and all dried out."
Kelly made a sound in his throat as he focused on the traffic ahead of them and commented, "I always thought when they dilated your eyes, you couldn't see."
"Well I guess they've changed it over the years," Casey said. "You haven't done it yet?"
"Nope, I make a point to get my eyes checked as little as possible," Kelly replied. "I can see, I can see just as well now as last year, the year before that, the year before that. Besides, you know what the next step is."
"Trying not to think about it," Casey said. "The doctor said in a few years we might be talking bifocals."
"Why?"
"Apparently everybody gets them past a certain age, at least that's the impression I got from our conversation," Casey answered.
Kelly shook his head, "I've known a few people who get them...they don't wear them, because you can't see anything through them."
"Apparently that's one thing that hasn't improved over the years," Casey said. "It's depressing to think about. You get to be a certain age and everybody's looking at you, ready to cram you into this one-size-fits-all box that you need this, this and that because everybody does by that same age. And then you don't even know if they get them because they actually need them, or if it's just because the doctor tells them that everybody does too."
"I guess the upside is you live long enough to get to that point, that's got to count for something, right?" Kelly asked.
Casey shrugged, "I suppose so...especially in our line of work."
"Yeah, so, did he say if you'll be alright for work tomorrow?" Kelly asked.
"It didn't seem to be an issue," Casey replied.
"Good, I'll pick you up in the morning."
Tick tick tick tick tick tick tick
Casey's eyes opened and he found himself in the darkness of his quarters at 51. Was that a clock ticking, or his heart beating? Or was there even much difference?
He didn't know what time it was and he didn't have the energy or the interest to look. He didn't know if he'd actually been asleep or not...physically he was exhausted, they'd been on calls nonstop all day and half the night, he should've been dead to the world, but as exhausted as his body felt, and as exhausted as his mind felt, he was too wired to sleep. There was too much on his mind for him to shut it down for a while and fall asleep.
He lay on his bunk and looked around at the dark walls and ceiling, and just thought. There was a lot to think of these days, and never seemed to be any time to actually think about any of them.
That morning he'd woken up just like he did every 48 hours off, alone, stiff and sore, not knowing what the day held but most times he could hazard a guess it would largely be uneventful and just the same old routine. Given the lives they led on shift, there was something to be said about monotony and routine, but he'd been doing it for almost 20 years, and it was starting to weigh on him.
What woke him up in the morning was either his alarm buzzing, his bladder letting him know it had just barely made it through the night without having to get up, or silence. Not absolute silence, there were always the muffled sounds of traffic, birds outside the window, that kind of stuff, but the silence that came from living alone and not having anyone else around to be up and about first. What kept him awake used to be easy, the calls they responded to, the people they couldn't save, reexamining every detail to figure out what they could've done differently, usually knowing there was in fact nothing they could've done differently. That was simple to figure out, but it wasn't always that easy anymore. What kept him awake was a mix of that, an assessment of his life, and a growing sense of dread that felt like it was literally weighing on his chest.
He was still awake when the room became light and he realized the sun was coming up. He finally looked at his phone and saw it was 6:53, little over an hour until shift change. All he wanted to do was go home and go to bed, but he knew even there he wouldn't be able to sleep.
He dragged his tired bones out of his bunk, put his boots on, went over to Severide's quarters, knocked on the door and opened it, and saw the Squad lieutenant tying his boots.
"Hey, you got a minute?" he asked.
"Yeah, sure," Kelly replied as he set his foot on the ground, "What's up?"
Casey entered the room, looked behind him, closed the door absently, went over to the bunk and sat down on the edge beside Kelly.
"This is a switch," he noted, "usually I'm the one sitting on your bunk. What's going on?"
Casey wasn't really sure where to start. "I...I need to talk about something."
"Okay, what is it?" Kelly asked.
Casey had just opened his mouth when the tones went off and dispatch's voice came through that Truck, Engine, Ambo and Squad were needed at a structure fire.
Matt shook his head as they stood up and said, "It's nothing, really."
That was the last they discussed it as they suited up to head out.