And I bid you adieu…though I may come back and add chapters.
I miss the show this was….I miss Mills, I didn't warm up to Gallo, I no longer recognize Severide or Casey, I still don't know where the hell Boden went and…I stopped liking Stella.
It has nothing to do with her being paired with Severide, (though they neutered him to do it)…..just wrong time, bad timing. I blame Hollywood, when every show (calling you out Chicago PD and Burgess.) had to park the men in the rear and bring the women to the front…..(don't get me started on The Avengers and what they did that to movie franchise! R.I.P - Iron Man, Captain America, soon to be ex-Thor(?)...*sniff*)
There is nothing wrong with female dominated shows, where they are the best, can do everything, do it better, don't need a man…kudos to all those who enjoy it…I am not one of you.
"One hell of a blizzard out there." Boden commented to his two lieutenants; both were tired, though one was much more alert than the other. "I'm liking this modern-day way of; find a safe place and hunker down because 911 responders will not respond."
"Feel like we should though." Casey groused good-naturally. "Sitting around here, when someone needs help….."
"We don't have snowmobiles." Boden boomed right back. "Look outside, you see what I'm seeing? Trucks aren't going anywhere."
Casey had looked outside, had just been out to the bay doors and no matter how many times the men and women of the house braved the elements and ventured outside to shovel the doorways clear, they made no headway. When it was just snowing, the wind blew drifts waist-high in front of the bay doors. It looked like no
one had stepped outside and done anything at all even though the last snow-clearing shift had just come in for hot chocolate and chicken soup not some 30 minutes ago.
So, he'd given up. It was a waste of both time and rock salt and though they had three certified, capable paramedics and a well-stocked ambulance in the house, they sure as hell didn't need another injury.
He cast an eye sideways at Severide, sighed, rubbed the back of his neck. Damn.
They were on-shift but unable to leave the fire station due to the weather. It was snowing heavily, and below zero without the wind-chill and in negative double digits with it. The wind itself was dangerous with gusts up to and possibly over, 70 mph and frozen rain had fallen within the last half hour, leaving a sheer sheet of ice on any and all surfaces….hell, it was sleeting now.
It would be suicidal to attempt to leave until the precipitation stopped, plows could get out, people shoveled out and roads and sidewalks were treated with salt.
"We're warm and safe and secure. No need to risk a life attempting to leave. We aren't the only house in the city, even if we are the only ones in the middle of this storm."
Chicago was a big city and not all of it was in the midst of this blizzard of the century, so there were other stations that could, and would, cover their district.
"Kelly?" Boden softened his voice. "How you feeling?"
Severide, slouched in a chair in front of his Chief's desk, chin to shoulder, eyes closed, thumb and forefinger of his left hand massaging his forehead, ice pack on his right shoulder, paused mid-motion, gave a wobbly thumbs-up.
The last call they'd been out on, all hell had broken loose and the events had happened fast with no time to think.
Severide had been blown off his feet while saving the life of a young, inexperienced fire-fighter from another station, who in a blind panic, had fought back when grabbed. Severide had tucked and rolled and landed and rolled some more, falling and landing with the weight of the idiot on top of him, leaving him battered, bruised and flailing around on the floor, stunned and disoriented.
The building on fire, rather than playing hero – anymore than he already had – he'd stayed put, secure in the knowledge, no matter the danger, Casey would risk limb and life to come get him.
And good ole Matthew Casey had.
On the truck-anchored aerial ladder with the idiot, yet another unexpected explosion had rocked the building, the blast causing Casey to lose his grip and part ways with the security of the ladder. He'd been saved from a dangerous fall by Severide launching himself off the ladder, anchored to it by hanging upside down from his ankles. Neither having had time to tie-off, the weight of catching and stopping Casey's dead-weight had slammed him more than once against the unforgiving ladder and holding him until Cruz and Capp had been able to get them, had dislocated Severide's shoulder.
It had been popped back into place by Boden once back at the firehouse – and the result was an aching, in pain Severide who refused to take anything stronger than Advil to relieve it and ice just wasn't enough.
The young, dumb idiot hadn't suffered serious injury and all three had been checked out onsite by Dawson and Brett.
"We get you anything to eat?" Boden asked. "I'll bring you a plate."
"Nah."
And the Chief would. Because what he meant by bring was; it was time Severide went and laid down.
"You haven't eaten all day, have you?"
"Not much in the mood to eat Chief."
He truly wasn't. Because every muscle, ligament, tendon, vein, bone in his body either ached or throbbed or tingled or pounded or twitched or burned or in some otherwise way, let him know where it was and that it was mad.
He ached everywhere, and no, he didn't want to hear from some spunky paramedic that veins didn't, couldn't, hurt.
"You can't take pain meds on an empty stomach."
"Not taking any."
"You're not going to get any sleep."
"Not the first time I don't."
Boden rolled his chair back, stood up. "Go lie down." It was an order and one Severide chose to obey.
He struggled to sit up, sat for a bit, caught his breath, pushed to his feet after three tries with a wince, a grunt, a groan. He hissed, blew his breath out.
"Got a good shiner there." Boden clucked his tongue. "You see okay?"
Severide didn't need a mirror to tell him his eye socket where it topped his cheek was swollen and bruised…he could damn well feel it.
"Take Cruz's bunk." Casey suggested, earned a dirty glare. His and Severide's offices shared a wall, but the closest bunk to either office was usually inhabited by Cruz. "Not up for discussion Sev."
"It's an office with glass walls." Severide protested, hissed, bit his lip to stop another groan that would earn him an escort directly to bed. "Owwwww." He tried, but couldn't stop the moan. "Shit."
"There! That! That's why." Grinning widely, Boden explained, "We can keep a better eye on you, you're out in the open. Besides, I'll be in your bunk." The Chief had his own quarters that accommodated sleeping but they were across the station behind his office, well away from everyone else.
"I can't….kick Cruz….outta his….bed." Was he sweating? He was sweating. You didn't sweat from pain, did you? "Oommph." He wanted to double over, though he didn't know why. Well, maybe he did. His ribs ached. Elbows, fists, knees, feet had pummeled him…..stupid-ass punk the kid might be, but he sure as hell knew how to fight.
"He can take a spare bunk or sleep on the sofa." Boden said easily. "Tell you what, bend over, touch your toes, you can do that, you can bed down in your own bunk, pull the blinds and hide."
Bend over, dangle his arm? Was his Chief nuts? His hip was taking delight in reminding him vulnerable bone joints were not supposed to bang repeatedly against hard objects – such as ladders made of steel – and the Chief thought it was a good idea to see if his forehead would bounce off a concrete floor? Was the man diabolical? Did he want to see if Kelly could blacken both eyes by falling on his face?
"That's what I thought."
Teeth biting into his bottom lip, hand holding the ice pack to his shoulder, Kelly limped to the door. How the hell was he ever going to get any sleep with a bum right shoulder and a bum left hip?
"He good?" Boden asked, bared his teeth when Casey waved him back. "He's not good Casey. And you? Are you? You're not. I'm not."
He was trying very hard not to hover anxiously. His took a quick, mental inventory; his pulse had yet to return to normal, his stomach had yet to unknot, his temple pulsed with this heartbeat, his mouth remained dry and his vision had yet to clear.
He'd thought he'd lost Severide, then had made the heart-stopping decision to allow Casey to go get him, only to watch his truck Lieutenant plummet to certain death….But wait!...there's more!…his squad Lieutenant had performed death-defying aerial acrobatics and the terror twins had managed to hang on to one another until the bald duo had brought them down to safety.
He was simply too old for this, he had an addiction to the 'pink stuff' and suffered heart palpitations whenever he was reluctant to let either of them out of his sight, which was becoming more and more frequent, and they were all like, 'eh, all's good'.
He needed to have a beer with Dr. Charles.
"Uh," Severide swallowed, fought the urge to hunch a shoulder, wipe his face on his sleeve. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm good."
Boden nodded, hadn't thought Severide could hear his question to Casey. He was glad someone was good, because he sure as hell wasn't. He laced his fingers, cupped the back of his neck, lifted his face heavenward. He wasn't happy that the city was experiencing a 100-year storm event, but truly…..he was happy they were all snowed in together where he could be with these two, keep an eye on them after what happened…..Donna would be supportive he'd arrived home and installed them in their spare room, but she wouldn't understand.
He walked around his desk. "Then let's get you down."
Soon as the trio hit the common room, Brett popped up, reached for Kelly to take his pulse on his injured arm.
"Any numbness?" She asked after counting, "Tingling? Skin's warm, no blueness in your fingers, that's all good. How's the ice feel? Still cold?"
"I'm good Brett."
"Let me get you a sling, you should immobilize that arm as much as possible."
"I'm good Brett."
"Any muscle spasms? Let me see if there's any further swelling…."
"I'm good Brett."
"Any trouble breathing? No ribs appeared injured, but you've stiffened up and…."
"I'm good Brett."
"There are no signs of complications…"
"I'm good Brett."
"Oh, look at your eye. Want a gel pack?"
"Brett," his teeth were gritted, jaw tight. "I'm good."
"Don't get testy." She chided.
His eyes rolled in disgust. Testy? She thought he was testy?
He was snowed in, not allowed to be alone, ordered to bed and kept under the watchful eye of uptight Matt Casey and over-eager Wallace Boden. He was beaten, battered, bruised. He'd been assaulted, attacked, abused by a man he had been trying to help. He'd been poked, pricked, pinched, pushed, prodded, pierced, punctured, perforated, patted, and petted by well-meaning medics to the point, he'd felt violated.
He was done.
Boden caught Casey's eye, who nodded and stepped between Brett and Severide to head off a heated rebuttal Brett didn't know was coming her way. Severide took the hint, gimped towards the door that led out to the squad table….dumbass move, it was freezing out there….Casey shrugged, shook his head, sighed.
It was Brett who blocked his way out of the room. "I'll bring you a sling."
They both paused. Boden could order Severide to bed, they were technically on shift, so, the Lieutenant was under Boden's command but sometimes ordering Kelly Severide around didn't end so well.
If he tended to listen to anyone – even if it was in a roundabout way that wasn't 'direct' and right away – it was Matt Casey.
So, Boden and Casey made faces and mouthed 'you do it', 'no, you do it' at each other with frantic hand waves, gestures and motions while Brett kept Severide irritated so he didn't notice who won 'rock, paper, scissors.'
"Well…alright then,' Boden, the loser, rubbed his palms together, "if you don't want something to eat and Brett deems you fit, let's get you down for some shut eye."
Severide knew the way he felt was due to physical and mental exertion. He might be miserable and distracted, and his emotions over nearly losing Casey were still high but some part of his pain-addled brain told him his Chief was suffering some guilt over the agony he'd caused Severide when he'd popped his shoulder back into place, and that made him feel bad, it did, but he just wanted to be left alone.
He tried to remember why they hadn't taken him to the hospital….something to do with the weather and the firehouse being closer….but wouldn't it have made more sense to be snowed in, at a hospital?
"…..wish I'd known you'd dislocated it at the scene….." Sylvie was saying. "We could have taken to you to Med." She shot Boden a look of disapproval but couldn't be angry. She and Gabby had checked Severide out and deemed him fit. Of course, he hadn't sat still – he being Mr. Antsy Pants – or tolerated much of an exam, but he'd never lost consciousness, was alert and no bones were sticking out of skin so they'd been brief and let him go.
Oh. Right. Severide winced - thinking, remembering made his head hurt. They hadn't known. He hadn't known. No one had. No…wait, not quite true. Jimmy had suspected, had wanted to take a closer look, but had been shut down by Dawson.
Seeing the hooded eyes tighten, the lines around his mouth crease, Casey stepped in, "Brett, I've got him, he's good."
"If you need me….."
"You won't be far." Casey smiled to soften the rejection.
"He should put his arm in a sling." She patted Severide on his uninjured arm and wandered off, leaving him standing in jeans and a Henley with too-long sleeves that made him look young and vulnerable, eyes watery, tilting towards Casey who usually didn't take to be crowded well, but nevertheless, remained closer to Severide than was necessary - prepared to catch him, should his hip give up the fight.
"Sandwich?" Boden asked. "Something hot? Soup? Chili?" The struggle Kelly was exhibiting to keep it together was killing him.
Gabby and Sylvie would have been able to perform the shoulder relocation, but damn this women's lib crap. A man was physically stronger than a woman. Period. It was a scientifical, proven fact. Could they do it? Of course, but with all the men in the house, why risk having to try more than once to get it done?
Jimmy was a certified paramedic – who knew? – but he was young, just a kid, and new to the house and if Severide had been given the choice, he would have picked the man he knew and trusted…..Chief Boden….so, that made him feel a little bit better. Not much, but a bit, because truth, Severide would have chosen Casey if asked to pick who was just as capable as Boden, but the truck lieutenant had been rattled himself.
He made a mental note to remember to reprimand Dawson over her curt dismissal of Jimmy's concerns at the scene.
He knew better than to trust Kelly Severide at his word when questioned about an injury…but he'd been anxious about the weather and the forecast to come, so relieved to have both Severide and Casey on solid ground and in one piece, his knees had been weak. He'd been so mad the antics of a fellow fireman – he didn't care the kid had panicked – had caused the whole mess, that when medics had cleared Kelly, deemed him fine…..he hadn't insisted Severide go to the hospital.
It didn't make sense, he knew that now, but then, just after it had all happened, it had made perfect sense to want his lieutenants with him.
Had he known about the dislocated shoulder, he would have driven the stubborn shit to Med himself.
"Kelly?"
"Sev?"
He didn't believe Severide had deliberately denied the injury or ignored it, most likely, he hadn't even known about it, the adrenaline and all, until they got back to the house, and he'd slid out of the truck and Tony and Capp had picked him up off his knees 'cause he'd tried to take off his coat…..
His scream of agony had brought everyone at a run.
No longer insisting he was fine, he'd submitted first to Casey who had diagnosed the shoulder dislocation, then Sylvie and Gabby, who agreed it could be popped back into place when Boden had asked if it could be done in the house rather than risk trying to make it to the hospital.
Though the medics hadn't been able to confirm there was no muscle or ligament damage, they were fairly certain it was a simple dislocation – and that was good enough for Severide who agreed they could pop it back in at the house.
Then had come the argument over who would do it.
Had the girls been alone with Severide, then yes, it would have fallen on them to do it, but there were multiple men trained in first aid there and a Chief who knew a bit more about medical assistance than the average firefighter, so he conveniently ignored the fact Jimmy was more qualified than him, and had pulled rank.
He knew he would cause his Lieutenant pain but wanted to minimize it as much as possible, so he had put his foot down and overrode the objections of the 'professionals'. He had felt good afterwards, seeing the immediate relief Severide had experienced, but now…now?…..ugh. Maybe he should have let Jimmy do it, then he wouldn't feel this way right now, looking at a man in pain who didn't want to admit it, because of something he'd done to cause it.
"Kelly."
Having pushed up from the chair in his Chief's office with great exertion, and walking from one room, down a hall and into another, Severide was dizzy and short of breath. He didn't want to eat, he wanted to lie down and his beloved chair was his destination. He could curl up or stretch out or slouch or…..
"Right, come on." Casey prodded him along. "You can eat later, if you want." He looked at Boden, mouthed 'you owe me'. The Chief nodded. "No, not that way. Dunno why you wanna go out there. Doesn't a bed sound better?"
A bed? Oh. Well, then. Yes, yes it did.
The lure of being stationary on a mostly comfortable bunk, warm with blankets, and the familiar sounds of his friends and firehouse activity propelled him down the hallway, through the bunkroom and over to the bunk Casey said was his for the night.
"You gotta do something for me," Casey said as Severide, one armed tucked securely against his side, the other on the half wall for support, balanced first on one foot, then the other, worked his boots off with his toes against an ankle. Damn, his feet were still tender and sore. Owowowowowowow. "Hey," he snapped his fingers to get Severide's attention. "Just another minute, okay?"
"What?" He tossed the ice pack, tried to use both hands to unbuckle his belt, was forced to humiliatingly stand still and let Casey do it for him. Luckily, he was able to unbutton and unzip his jeans himself.
"Hey," Casey kicked the jeans aside once Severide stepped from the pool of denim. "Gotta do me a favor," He reached around a weaving Severide, pulled the blankets back, guided him down onto the mattress. "Don't get up. There are enough people here going in and out, you won't be alone. You need something, call out, okay?"
"I'm good."
"Don't pull that shit with me. Tell Brett whatever you want, but you want a drink, need to hit the head, get someone's attention."
"Get Brett's help to the head?" Severide swung his feet up, slid them under the blanket, "I go down, taking her with me."
Casey considered that scenario. "Right, okay, have her get Capp or Tony then, point is Sev, I don't want you getting dizzy or passing out…."
"….I can handle pain Case."
"….and hitting your head or falling on your shoulder, and cause damage….'cause I…just…I can't handle you down for weeks right now….I can't."
"Yeah, yeah…." He laid down on his back, pulled the blankets up, let his eyes close in blessed relief. "I'll call for my babysitter."
"I'll have someone bring you some ice, half hour or so."
And Brett was beside Casey, "You have a hell of a bruise on your lower back, your hip, heating pad?" She had one in her hands, "Yes?"
"Make her go away."
"Do what she wants, she goes away faster." Casey thought heat was a good idea, there wasn't a spot on Severide's skin that wasn't scraped or bruised or swollen….he'd taken a hell of a beating….some heat might ease a cramp or relax a stiff muscle…..give him a bit of relief…..but it wasn't his decision. He'd bullied Severide so much that the poor guy already felt ganged up on, his choices taken away from him, which made him defensive, if he didn't want heat, Casey wouldn't force it on him.
Back of his good forearm draped over his forehead, hiding his eyes, Severide sighed tiredly, gave a slight nod, licked his lips. "Thanks,"
Beaming because finally, her advice was accepted, Sylvie dropped to her knees, grumbling good-naturedly about the bedside lamp not having power outlets, and having to crawl under a bed where dust bunnies abounded to plug in a heating pad Severide probably wouldn't use long or appreciate.
Casey turned the switch to medium, poked Severide in the hip until he arched his back, lifting his hips just enough, Casey could place the heating pad on the mattress.
"Okay then, you settled? Try and keep your shirt between your skin and the heat, okay?" Brett chirped, smacking Severide's elbow aside so she could feel his forehead. "Oh, get used to it." She told him when he scowled, rolled his head. "Gonna be checking for a fever all night."
"Fever? From what?" Severide snapped. "I don't…."
"Oh, someone's cranky," Sylvie cooed. "You…"
Casey took hold of Sylvie by her shoulders, moved her on her way. She'd called Severide testy and cranky; another such word and she'd likely get her feelings hurt.
"Get some sleep Severide."
Boden looked up when Casey and Brett returned to the common room.
"Well?"
For Casey, the question was: was Severide giving them a hard time? Being stupid? Stubborn? Obstinate? Was he down? Comfortable? Did Boden need to pull rank and go issue orders?
For Brett, the question was: how was he? Any danger of ligament or tendon damage? Internal bleeding? Chance of fever?
"He's down, took a heating pad." Casey poured a cup of coffee, scrounged a yogurt from the fridge, sat down with a plastic spoon. "Should we waste time shoveling?"
"Advil is not going to hold him." Sylvie announced. "Not through the night, not without him screaming." She was arranging napkins into order so they'd fit into the dispenser. "There's swelling and he should put some ice on that eye…."
"OTC's meds are the recommended pain relief for a separated or dislocated shoulder…." began Mouch only to be shut down by Sylvie shaking her head.
"Have you met Kelly Severide?" She snorted. "He can handle pain, knows how to manage it…."
"….you mean, hide it." Otis cut in.
"It's more than his shoulder Chief." Sylvie glared at Otis. "Hanging by his ankles holding Casey's weight? His feet are swollen. Those kicks to his ribs? He's damn lucky none are cracked or broken. The bruises on his belly and back? He's lucky there isn't bruising to his kidneys or liver. He might, um, pee blood." For whatever reason, she blushed, "As for his shoulder, he's lucky there wasn't….."
"Yeah, well….maybe people wouldn't be so quick to fight him, he treated them better." Otis tossed out.
And to everyone's astonishment, chatty, cutesy, little Sylvie blew up, "What the hell's your problem Otis!?" Both Casey and Boden gaped open-mouthed in surprise at her rise in tone, shocked she'd cursed. "I really don't need your negativity right now. Dealing with Severide is stress enough."
"….I'm just saying…."
"Well, DON'T!" She yelled. "Don't go around saying shit to stir up trouble. Not now, not tonight."
"Brett, you don't know him like we do. He….."
"I know he's never left your ass behind, never once complained about having to go after you, never not done whatever was needed for you to perform your job." She folded napkins so angrily, they tore and pieces fluttered everywhere. "When he leaves you high and dry and you lose a victim or have to find your own way out of a smoke-filled, burning building, then….then, you can stand in my face and trash him."
"What is it about that guy, everyone rises up and defends?" Herrmann muttered to Mouch. "Every damn time."
"And you don't lead that particular parade?"
Herrmann made a face, worked his lips, but his ears turned red. How many times had Kelly Severide been the reason he returned home to his kids and wife? How many times had the Squad Lieutenant dived or rappelled or hammered off a hinge and hacked through a door to retrieve his trapped ass? The guy just had a knack to know when to drill or hammer or hack, what tool would be best used when, or strike an arc and cut through something with a torch. Was there a better welder/torch wielder in the CFD?
Boden again looked heavenward, the weather, the rough call, the near-death of his men, his injured man and now his house was at odds? Could the good Lord throw anything else at him this night?
"We get it Brett." Boden assured his very angry blonde paramedic. "If he wasn't here with qualified, capable medical care and needed it, I'd pull him on a sled to Med it that's what it took to get him there. If he can't handle the pain, then every man and woman in this house will do what is necessary to hold him down while you find a vein to stick a needle in. You have strong pain meds on the ambo, morphine if need be…. he's good Brett."
She gave him a comical grimace over hearing those words yet again. "Demerol." She decided. "Syrup or pills."
"Isn't Percocet better?"
"No one uses Demerol anymore, do they?"
"You can inject it too though, right?"
"Hey, who's the medic here?" She countered. Her dander still up, she was quick to pounce. "You questioning me doing my job?"
"If he needs it." Casey tossed the empty yogurt cup into a recycle can. He knew Severide wouldn't ask for it. He'd learned a hard lesson a couple years ago when taking meds for a previous shoulder/back injury and then again over his bone marrow donation and was now leery of taking anything stronger than Advil.
"When, not if." Sylvie was still hot but allowed Boden to lead her away still talking his ear off. "Now Chief, listen…"
"Casey, he good?" Tony asked quietly.
"Yeah," Casey assured him. "It'll be a day or so, tonight will be rough, but he'll feel better in a day or so." He'd get x-rays or whatever, make sure there was no damage to his shoulder. Swelling would go down, bruises would fade, cramps would ease. He'd miss a shift, maybe two, but squad's boss would be good.
()()()()()()
Finally alone, Severide relaxed, let his muscles go limp, sink into the mattress, sighed as he felt the heat from the heating pad against the small of his back begin to spread down to his ass, thighs and up towards his shoulders…..gawd!….that felt so fucking good….aaaahhh!
The room remained quiet, the noise muted as people walked past, paused by his bunk, adjusted the blanket, felt for a fever, took his pulse. He tolerated the palm to his forehead, and though he never opened his eyes, knew it was Brett by the scent of lilac and vanilla but amazingly, she didn't talk, didn't fuss and apparently, she didn't find evidence of a fever, for she never tried to take his temperature.
Not that he would have tolerated her doing so.
When the throbbing in his aching shoulder pushed him to the point, he couldn't lay still anymore, he kicked out of the blankets, prepared to get up and search for ice when he was slapped upside the back of his head.
"Don't you dare." He was pushed flat, his pouty ow ignored. "You need something, you yell out; hey, can someone get me an ice pack? Bring me some water?" The blankets were pulled back over his legs, his knee patted. "You don't get up."
He muttered something and even he didn't know what he said, but Dawson got his meaning, tugged his ear in affection.
"Matt said so." She applied a large ice pack to his shoulder. "Might feel better, you wear a sling." She got a grunt in response, let it go for now, but whether he liked it or not, when he was up and walking, his damn arm would be in a sling. "There's a gel pack on the pillow, your eye hurts, just turn your head to the side. We're going outside, Mike from engine is on Severide duty, don't scare the kid."
Should he get up and join his house family outside to play in the weather? He'd have to get dressed, put on hat and gloves, coat and boots and would need help because his shoulder joint still had some swelling and wasn't moving the way it should and…..eh, fuck it! He wasn't going anywhere. There were enough men in the house, they'd carry him where they wanted him to go, so if he did put in an appearance, he'd be returned to bed whether he wanted to be or not.
"Warm enough?" Dawson snagged a blanket off another bunk, didn't care whose, spread it out, tucked it in and around him. "Okay, get some sleep."
"Mmmpphhhtt." The ice quelled the kick-up his shoulder had rounded up, and he was able to drift off, and abide by Dawson's bidding – get some sleep.
Advil wore off and this time, it was Dawson who gave him more meds, the pills blue, Aleve probably and though a few aches and pains subsided, he was soon plagued by cramps in his calves….charley horses….great, just what he needed – more pain.
He tried to ignore it, will it away, but he was soon restless, had to sit up and try and massage first one calf, then the other but he simply didn't have the strength or coordination in the one arm that was usable to alleviate the cramping.
Crying alone in the hospital after a painful procedure he willingly chose to go through was one thing, shedding tears of frustration in front of his co-workers because he had a boo-boo was not going to happen.
Already sitting up, he decided that getting out of bed and walking would help ease the cramps but before he could put that plan of stupidity into action, a palm on his good shoulder gently, but firmly pushed him flat onto his back. He was too befuddled to resist, but man, he was getting tired of being pushed around. He went down with a grunt, only one eye capable of blinking to bring focus, if not clarity, to his blurry sight.
"Easy Kelly," Boden squatted next to his bunk, one hand holding Severide's heel in his palm as he massaged his calf with the other…fingers strong and kneading…punishing. "What happened?" Sitting at Kelly's desk in his office, he'd watched his Lieutenant grow increasingly restless, finally sit up and rub first one calf, then the other while trying to keep the ice on his shoulder. He'd abided by Casey's earlier advice to leave Severide alone unless he tried to get up and when he had, Boden had moved in to assist.
"Turn him over." Came Sylvie's soft voice. "He can relax better, he's on his stomach."
"Why would he get leg cramps now?" Cruz whispered, squatting opposite of Boden and massaging Kelly's other leg. "Jesus Severide, relax."
"Dunno," Sylvie said. "Has he had a history of them?"
"No." Casey's voice, close, but not as close as Brett and Cruz's.
"Hanging by his ankles, you think?" That was Herrmann.
Christ, was everyone huddled around his bunk? He'd learned way back in the academy to rely on all his senses, so his hearing and sense of smell served him very well his sight was compromised.
And from Otis. "Maybe, but wouldn't it have happened sooner?"
"Does he ever do anything that medical science says is the natural order of injury and recovery?" Capp scoffed.
"He went off that ladder by his ankles, you'd think they'd be hurting." Tony offered. "More so than his calves I mean."
"They probably do." Jimmy tossed in his two cents. "Ab and thigh muscles swung him and Casey up though, so…..there's that."
"This what you gave him Brett?" Mouch asked, shaking a bottle.
Then yes, apparently everyone was huddled around his bunk….but…
"What is it? Aleve? No, I….."
"I did." Gabby said.
And the circle around him was complete.
Though everyone was talking in hushed tones and whispers, it was still everyone, and that was annoying, roused his temper, but before he could snap or lash out, everyone was told to go on about their business and in a whisp of movement, he felt the air around him become devoid of human presence.
Finally!
Well, not devoid of everyone. He wasn't alone yet.
"I wouldn't give him any more of that?" Mouch's voice was distant, like he was walking away. "Trudy swears naproxen makes her toes cramp, we don't have it in the house."
"Ever hear of that?" Casey asked the girls, "Chief, help me flip him over."
I can damn well turn over by myself! But I don't want to, so I'm not gonna.
"Yeah, sure, sure." Boden paused. "Which are we favoring more? Shoulder or hip?"
"Shoulder."
"No," Gabby answered her boyfriend, fiancé, ex, whoever. "But it's not unusual for people to react to meds." She tried to remember if she'd ever seen Severide take Aleve since he'd been living with her and Casey. She had a bottle in her purse, the medicine cabinet, the kitchen, on the coffee table, in literally every room of the house, but for the life of her, she couldn't say whether or not she'd ever seen him pick up a bottle or heard him ask her for even aspirin.
"Even over-the-counter ones?" Chief asked. "We lifting and flipping or pushing and rolling?" He waited on an answer from Casey.
"Uh, roll him left, just need your help keeping his right shoulder off the mattress, don't want him putting weight on it. Watch his hip, he's touchy about it. Spread the word Gabby, no Aleve for him."
"Sure." She replied easily, but she was annoyed, disappointed.
Here they were, snowed in, blizzard raging outside and she and Matt could cuddle up somewhere and just be with one another, sleep under a blanket where she felt his reassuring heartbeat beneath her cheek, the pulse in his neck but no….no, not with Severide down and Matt feeling gratitude for his rescue, and guilt because rescuing him is what had caused Severide's injury….not with the decision to take Severide back to the fire station rather than to the hospital…not with staying and watching Severide endure the shoulder replacement...SeverideSeverideSeveride!
She knew he would accuse her, blame her for not knowing Severide had dislocated his shoulder at the scene, not listening to Jimmy, but that didn't worry her. He would calm down and remember how difficult Severide could be.
"Anything we can give him?" Boden asked. "Case it is a reaction to the Aleve?"
"He just has to ride it out." Gabby said impatiently. Good Grief, the man had simply dislocated his shoulder, it was not life-threatening. He'd suffered worse injury and more severe pain before. She knew him fairly well, better than a lot of people, he just wanted to be left alone.
With a scowl, Severide resisted turning over, but was neither strong nor coordinated enough to fight off both Casey and Boden so despite his feeble attempts to remain on his back, he was assisted in turning over to his belly without jarring his sore arm or hitting his aching hip.
Being on his belly reminded him of the time he'd donated bone marrow….he shuddered at the memory….so, yeah, he preferred to stay on his back.
"I know. Don't think about it." Casey said soothingly, making Gabby frown. She knew Casey had talked in depth with Clarke about the procedure Severide had gone through without an epidural and Clarke had likely shared more than he should have, breaching doctor/patient confidentiality but Good Christ, Severide was a grown man who could snap his fingers and someone would hop to it to make him feel all better….he didn't need Matt! "Cramps ease, we'll let you turn over."
So, knees bent, feet in the air, soles to the ceiling, Severide submitted to the administrations of his Chief and best friend massaging and rubbing his calves from ankle to knee until his toes relaxed and his breathing evened out.
When his good eye remained closed without squinting in pain, they let him lower his legs and ease mostly onto his left side, gave him fresh ice packs and finally, he was alone again.
He thought he slept peacefully, but obviously, he didn't. He was restless, pretty much unable to lay still for longer than a few minutes even on his back. He didn't recall moaning or groaning, hissing or panting, whimpering or whining but he must have done something….because there was Brett rubbing a spot on his deltoid, stabbing him with a needle and injecting him with medication.
"Finally," Boden said quietly. "I got him, go catch a breather."
"I feel I should stay…." Casey began.
"His condition isn't on you." Boden said. "Yeah, it's taking a toll on him, but you didn't cause it by being drunk and doing something stupid and he had to save you."
"I know, just…..hard, seeing him like this….and after what he went through….then he had to…..I….."
"It's been years since he's had strong meds, this'll knock him out, go find Dawson, cuddle and coo over the snow."
"This isn't on you either."
"I did this."
Casey shook his head. "I'll lie down for a bit, you taking his bunk?"
"Yup. In a bit." Boden nodded. "Good night."