Hey nerdlets, another long chapter, maybe the longest I've written and I really pushed to get this posted tonight so I hope you enjoy it. Quick shoutout and thankyou to everyone who gave me followed favourites and left reviews, I know I respond to each one but honestly I don't think you know how happy they make me. Sometimes they're the only things keeping me going so thankyou so much. The support of this fic has been overwhelming. Enjoy the fic and don't forget to let me know in the reviews what you thought and what you'd like to see. Oh and this chapter is where the story earns it's M rating. There's some pretty graphic sex coming up (and not between the two people you're hoping for ;) sorry not sorry) so be warned.
Antonio turned back up at the station just before dinner bearing bad news again. Severide intercepted him by the garage doors and sent him through to Boden's office before anyone else could question his presence here twice in one day. Severide didn't know how much the rest of the house knew, but thought it best if it was best kept within the officers for the time being. After the argument with Casey earlier Severide chose not to attend the meeting merely escorting Antonio to the door before leaving to attend his own business.
When Antonio sat down with Casey and Boden he didn't waste anytime getting to what he knew. "Buddy of mine who works out of Voight's precinct said nothing's come up in the witness statements."
Boden was unimpressed. "So you're trying to tell me no one else saw his kid drunk?"
"Hell yes, other people saw his kid drunk. But they were other cops who aren't about to go up against Voight."
"Well, I would rather my guy not be the only one with his head above the foxhole on this one."
"I understand."
"Passenger in the other car isn't going to walk again," Casey put in, needing Antonio to know why this was so important.
"I know. I know. Look, give me to the end of shift. But if I come up empty…" Antonio trailed off helplessly. "Voight's been pulling his son out of things like this since the kid was 15. Lot of people had to turn the other way. And I'm just telling you, if it was Gabby who was in your shoes, and I'm not proud to admit this, but I'd tell her to stay out of it."
To hear someone as principled as Antonio say that told Casey he was in even worse trouble than he had first thought. He scrubbed a hand over his tired eyes, said goodbye to his chief and Antonio and left to lose himself and his problems for a few hours in the pile of paperwork perpetually waiting for him in his quarters.
As Mills was cooking dinner, Herrmann turned the conversation to side-jobs, most of the firefighter's using their off days to make a bit off extra cash to add to their moderate salaries.
"I didn't know your side job was in the restaurant business, Mills," Herrmann said as he leant over the counter to watch the Candidate work.
"For now," Mills grunted. "Phasing it out, though."
"I think you're the only food-related side job we got in here," Herrman said with a quick look around the room at the firefighter's gathered. "Let's see, we got a security guard," Mouch raised a hand in acknowledgment. "Construction," he continued with a nod at Casey. "Severide works on boats, sometimes…"
"What about you?" Mills asked, looking up from the pot he was stirring.
"General entrepreneurship. I was doing pretty good as a day trader, you know, until all the trolls jumped onboard. And you know, capsized it for guys like me. You know, it's funny that you bring it up, Peter Mills because I'm actually circling an investment opportunity."
Firefighters from all around the rec room repressed their groans. They should have known that as soon as Herrmann brought it up that this was what he was leading towards. Each of them had been burned at one point in time when Herrmann had convinced them to invest in one of his many harebrained schemes that more often than not went nowhere.
"It could be massive," Herrmann continued, oblivious to the many eyes rolls and quiet murmurs. "You know, and I might let you guys in on it."
Rising to the bait but not looking away from his card game, Cruz was the one to ask the inevitable question. "Well, what is it?"
Herrmann feigned playing hard to get for a moment and said, "Nah, you guys are going to have to wait, 'cause you know.." But quickly gave it up, "Okay, fine. Two words: Energy. Water."
The laughter was instantaneous, the men snorting into their fists and shaking their heads incredulously.
"Are you kidding me?" Vargas murmured, never looking away from his cards.
The arrival of Nicki stopped any more conversation on the topic. "Greg Duffy?" The room looked around expectantly. "I guess he was in a car accident the other day that you guys responded to."
"Yeah, what about him?" Casey asked, fearing the worst.
"He's outside."
The company stood and made their way out to the apparatus floor quickly, where a waiting Greg Duffy stood. The abrasions that still decorated the side of the man's face were a stark reminder of what he had been through.
"Sir," Casey said, offering his hand for Greg Duffy to shake.
"Sorry to barge in on you like this, but my wife made this for you guys," he said, revealing a chocolate cake he had placed on the table beside him. "We really appreciate what you did. And we know damn well it could've been worse if the car had tipped over, so thank you."
There was a chorus of "sure's" and "of "no problem's" from the house.
"How's your son?" Casey asked.
"Yeah, well, you know," Duffy sighed. "Mikey's got a tough road ahead of him. But we're gonna make it. We'll be alright." The man paused for a moment and sensing that he wasn't finished the men remained quiet. "The other reason I came here is… I don't know if there's anything you guys do in terms of what you saw, or pieced together based on what the scene looked like. But the police report came back saying I ran a led light and caused the accident. And that's, that's not what happened. And I'm kind of at a loss in terms of how to fight it."
Boden and Casey met each other's gaze. After a meaningful look from Casey and Boden the men gathered slowly dispersed leaving the Chief and the two Lieutenants with Duffy. Quietly they explained how the two Lieutenants would submit reports on what they saw and heard, explaining how they thought everything had occurred.
"If that doesn't change the police report, it'll be up to you to prove that it wasn't your fault," Boden finished apologetically.
Greg Duffy nodded, thanked them for their time and wished them well before leaving the three officers to their thoughts. Casey avoided the other men's gazes purposefully, all knowing that it was all up to Casey now and that only his word could have any impact on the police report. The Lieutenant walked away without another word, heading straight past the kitchen, where Mills was calling everyone to dinner and into his quarters where the unfinished report was waiting impatiently on his desk. As he wrote, marking down every detail of that night including the drunken driver and the empty beer cans, thinking of every reason he was doing this rather than all the ones that had been holding him back. He thought of the kid from the passenger seat who would never walk again, of the father in the car who had thought only of his son, who now felt the shame of being blamed for the accident. He thought of everyone in the house he respected and how he would expect them to do the right thing just as he now had to do the right thing. Finally he scribbled his signature on the line at the bottom and took it to Boden directly before he could think too hard about what he was doing.
"Last paragraph," he said as he handed the pages over. He slumped into a seat as Boden read over it, brow furrowing as he concentrated.
"Visibly drunk," Boden murmured under his breath as his eyes scanned the page. "Smelled alcohol on his breath. Saw open containers on the passenger seat."
When Boden came to the end of the report, he surveyed his officer for a long moment before standing from behind his desk. At Boden's gesture Casey stood as well and turned to his Chief as Boden rounded the desk to stand before him. Boden offered his hand and the two men shook firmly, a sense of pride burning strongly in Boden's chest.
"Leaders lead from the front."
As the warm afternoon melted into an equally hot night the inhabitants of House 51 lazed around the station waiting for a call or the appropriate hour for bed, whichever came first. Outside at the Squad table, Severide was toying lazily with the manila envelope that Nicki had given him earlier still somewhat surprised by it's contents. Just as he was contemplating forcing himself up to confront her about it - now that it was obvious that she wasn't just going to let sleeping dogs lie - the devil herself appeared from the doors. With a purposeful mischievous smile, Nicki slipped into the equipment room, the invitation evident in the sway of her hips and the final sly glance before the door closed behind her. Looking around to ensure that no one else was paying attention, Severide stood from the table with a muttered excuse and casually followed her in, envelope firmly in hand.
He found her waiting at the other end of the narrow room, fire helmet in hand and watching him expectantly. As he drew closer he reached in and pulled out the underwear, the lace and satin soft in his hand and held them up in a silent question.
"Evites are so impersonal," she said, fiddling with the equipment in her grasp.
He still didn't speak as he stopped barely a foot between them. Severide didn't know what he wanted coming in here, if his plan was to tell her to back off or if he was going to indulge in her offer just to get it out of both of their systems. He doubted either of them wanted a long term relationship and he thought that maybe she would back off once she'd played with fire and got it on with one of the firefighter's she'd been told to stay away from. The reasons for not doing this were still there of course, the entire mess that was his life currently and the hint of trouble that Nicki's devious smile promised but when she placed the helmet on his head with a challenge to leave it on, Severide knew he wasn't going to be the one to back down.
He slipped a hand around her waist and used his hold to tug her closer until they were pressed flush from hips to chest.
"Girl, you are barking up the wrong tree," he told her, hands slipping down to palm her ass through her dress.
"Yeah?" she asked, voice only slightly breathless and ran a heel up the back of his leg and hooked it around his hips, bringing them further into contact. "Prove it."
With the final challenge laid down their lips met in a furious clash, tongues instantly curling together in a hot fight for dominance. Winning almost instantly, Severide slid a hand into her hair allowing himself to position her to his liking as he settled to explore her mouth with his own.
Seemingly eager to get on with it as quickly as possible, Nicki was quick to jump into Severide's arms her long legs wrapping around his waist to keep her up. Stumbling over to the wall, they shoved aside hangers of turnout gear, searching for the wall to balance Nicki against. Their hips rolled sporadically against each other as they continued to kiss and suck at each other's skin, moving their lips often enough that marks never got the chance to form. Together they fought to pull Severide's shirt off, taking the helmet off momentarily before Nicki was pushing it back on.
"Leave it on," Nicki whispered into his ear, when he reached up to adjust the damn thing and kissed the skin beneath his ear in reward when his hands returned to her hips.
He reached up with a free hand and tugged at the ties of her dress until the top half was falling to pool around her waist. Leaning back to check that she was ready to move on, pantieless as Nicki was, Severide needed only to shift the skirt of her dress fractionally and he was able to slide into her tight, wet heat in one practised move. They both moaned at the feeling and clawed at each other's skin in an effort to get closer.
Being in the firehouse as they were, Severide knew they were on a time limit and set a bruising pace. Each quick, slamming thrust drew moans from the woman against him, growing higher and higher in pitch as she got closer to the edge, until it was effort for Severide not to grimace at the shrillness of the voice. Since the breakup with Casey, it had only been men Severide had picked up from bars and as such it had been such a long time since he'd been with a woman that he'd forgotten how if felt, the high-pitched demands panted directly into his ear and the softness of their breasts against his own chest.
Knowing he needed to finish this up as quickly as possible before someone interrupted or worse, the bells went off, Severide shifted a hand so he could nudge her bra out of the way and roll a hardened nipple between his fingers. The effect was instantaneous and it was only a matter of seconds before Nicki was stiffening between Severide and the wall and coming with a loud moan.
Severide continued to move, drawing out Nicki's orgasm as he chased his own release. Unwillingly Severide's thoughts turned to the last people he had been with as he searched for that thing that would push him over the edge; the hard planes of a man's body under his fingertips, stubble that grazed his skin as lips mouthed helplessly at his throat, lips swollen obscenely and looking thoroughly debauched, blue irises that were almost completely overcome by the pupils blown wide in lust, short blonde hair that stuck up in all different directions because of his own fingers, a low voice that murmured into his ear, urged him to let go. It was a fight for Severide to moan the right name as he came, spilling the evidence into the condom.
A lazy hand traced along his back in an effort to be soothing, he supposed as they both came down from their highs but Severide was more concerned with not shrugging it off. When he finally felt like he might not fall over, Severide unlocked his knees, pulled out and helped Nicki back to the ground. While she tried to tame her hair - messy from his fingers, Severide noted distantly - and pulled her dress back up, Severide busied himself tying the condom off and burying it at the bottom of the bin. When he was done and mostly presentable, Nicki pressed a final kiss to his cheek, shot him a devious grin and wandered out of the room. Severide rolled his head with a groan, which only became more agonised when he realised Nicki had left her underwear behind, no doubt as a present for him. Needing no more than a second to think about it, Severide scooped the panties up, shoved them back into the envelope and stuffed the whole thing into the bin; now that he'd had his quick fuck, he really didn't want anything more to do with the girl.
Unfortunately, Severide didn't seem to hear Nicki's fake giggle or her surprised greeting to her Dad, busy as he was hiding the evidence of their time together. If he had, he might have waited a little longer, like maybe an hour in order to be completely sure that Nicki and her father were gone before leaving the equipment room, rather than just moments after Nicki.
Severide emerged from the room, and his stomach dropped all the way to his toes as the sight of her Dad. One look in his eyes told Severide that the man suspected but still Severide nodded to him respectfully and tried not to look like he'd just fucked the man's daughter against a brick wall while still getting out of there as fast as possible.
As he hurried for the doors inside he caught sight of Casey standing with Herrmann by their rig, apparently checking something. The Lieutenant however wasn't focussing on the truck however, instead choosing to stare at Severide, judgement evident in his eyes.
Severide slowed and stopped, staring at Casey, wordlessly asking him what his problem was.
Casey raised his eyebrows, as if to say 'Really?'
Severide felt his expression grow cold and narrowed his eyes. 'Back off,' his expression said.
Casey seemed to get it because he held up his hands in surrender and gave a small unconcerned shrug before turning away, the universal sign for 'Whatever. It's your funeral.'
Severide rolled his eyes and continued on, too blissed out from the fuck to get worked up over what the hell Casey was on about. Feeling thoroughly debauched, Severide tried to straighten out his shirt, crumpled from lying in a heap on the floor and turn his necklace the right way round, having been pushed by Nicki's eager hands. On his way to the locker room for a shower, he was cornered by Shay who had a dangerous, determined glint in her eyes.
"Hey," she said grabbing his arm before he could make a break for it. "I need to talk to you."
Severide, feeling paranoid after his run in with Casey went immediately on the defensive, not putting it past him to go running straight to Shay.
"That girl's in serious heat, and I'm not Gandhi," he said gesturing back at the equipment room wildly.
"What?" Shay followed the line of his hands and tried to work out what he was on about, her nose scrunching up in confusion.
Oh.
Severide should have known better; Casey wasn't one to get involved in anyone else's business.
"No about your arm," Shay continued, already moving past Severide's odd admission. "Here." She thrust a small scrap of paper at him, on which Severide could see, in Shay's messy scrawl a time, date and name.
"What's this?"
"Friend of mine. I gave her a head's up."
Severide fought the urge to swear and forced himself to appear grateful. "Cool. Thanks."
"Yeah, your appointment's after shift," Shay continued.
Sure enough when Severide took a second look at the paper, the date was for tomorrow morning, right after when they would get off work. His stomach twisted uncomfortably at the proximity of the appointment and tried to come up with something he could say that wouldn't reveal how scared he was. Apparently his hesitation was enough.
"You said you were going to get your arm looked at," Shay said accusingly.
"I know. I am. I will. I'll- well I am now." Severide knew he was babbling in his attempt to placate his friend and he wasn't surprised when her face didn't relax.
"Ok, so I basically feel like you've been lying to me in order to get painkillers, and that's not really the qualities I look for in a friend and a roommate."
Severide repressed the urge to remind her exactly who had moved into whose apartment, knowing that it wasn't really the point and it would only prompt Shay to hit him and the girl packed quite a punch. Instead he finally came clean about why he was hesitant to go see a doctor.
"Part of me doesn't want to know." Screw part of him; all of him was quite content to remain in the dark, knowing from the pain and numbness that it couldn't be anything good.
Shay's eyes softened at the admission and she nodded empathetically. "I get it, of course. But the consultations off the books… just you and I'll know, and we'll figure it out."
Knowing that Shay wouldn't allow for any other alternative, Severide swallowed heavily and nodded, "All right." While he still wasn't sure if this was the best course of action, Severide figured it was time to suck it up, stay on Shay's good side and go to the appointment.
Outside, Casey was methodically packing up the t-shirt booth, having stepped in to do it since Nicki left early when he felt someone join him. He glanced around to find Vargas hovering nearby looking nervous in a way that made Casey equally apprehensive.
"Hey Casey."
Casey nodded his own greeting and preemptively asked Vargas what was going on.
"Just wanted to let you know that I reached my squad certification."
Casey's stomach twisted and he wanted to tell Vargas to stop because he didn't need To hear anymore to know what would come next.
Still, Vargas continued, "And I put in for a transfer. So I just wanted to know beforehand." Vargas said when Casey didn't offer anything in return.
Casey gritted his teeth against any response knowing it would come out harsh and scathing. It wasn't that Casey wasn't happy for them, God only knew that he was beyond proud whenever his men bettered themselves but the constant rotation his company was in grew more annoying with every man that was shifted out of his charge and into Severide's. Still, when Casey caught the dejected bob of Vargas' head out of the corner of his eye, he was calling out the names name before he even knew what he was doing.
"Congratulations, man," he said offering his hand for his subordinate to shake, any lingering cynicism melting away when he saw the barely restrained exhilaration burning in the man's eyes. "Seriously. Severide will be lucky to have you."
"I appreciate that," Vargas returned warmly and with one final nod turned to head back inside, the box of money and t-shirts under one arm.
Casey was just untacking the sign from the table when he once again felt the prickling feeling of someone approaching him from behind. He stood from his crouch and turned to find himself face to face with a man who was easily identifiable as Detective Voight.
"You Casey?" he asked. At Casey's quiet confirmation he nodded and introduced himself. "Hank Voight. You got time for a drink?"
Knowing this was bound to go down sometime Casey agreed easily and followed Voight down the street towards the nearest bar. As they walked he pulled his radio from his hip and spoke into it, volume pitched just loud enough that Voight was sure to hear it.
"Chief?" Casey waited for Boden's affirmation before continuing. "I'm just going to step out for a second. Give me a yell if the bells go?"
"Sure Casey," Boden agreed easily enough. "Just be back in half an hour."
"Thank, Chief."
Satisfied that Voight wouldn't now try anything when Casey was sure to be missed, the Lieutenant relaxed fractionally, feeling more resigned than anything.
As soon as they sat, Voight ordering a cliched bourbon and Casey just taking a coffee, the detective launched into an immediate long-winded discussion of life as a police officer that while marginally interesting was just something both knew was an introduction to the inevitable conversation.
"Lots of cops have dinosaur arms when it comes to pulling their gun," Voight said after taking a long pull of his drink. "Not me."
Casey didn't offer anything in response and Voight was quick to continue.
"You know, I've always been aggressive."
While his next words still didn't prompt a word from Casey, the Lieutenant didn't miss the hidden warning behind the words. But rest assured he had no intention of challenging Voight any more than was strictly necessary.
"It's the only way to get anything done in my line of work. The reason I'm telling you this is, I put a lot of time into my job. I mean, I cared a lot about protecting the city and the people in it. Maybe too much, because I wasn't a home a lot and I took my eye off my son."
And here they were, the inevitable point of conversation. The conversation they'd been having might have been bettered suited to an old friend but now they were up to the part that had brought the seasoned Detective to Casey in the first place. Still Casey didn't speak though, remaining silent to see how far Voight would go without his input.
"That's on me."
It was a challenge here not to roll his eyes. Casey has heard the excuses over and over throughout his career. The parents always took the blame for their kids, assuming that it had to be their fault that their child did anything wrong. But Voight hadn't made the kid drink anything, hadn't forced the keys into his hand and being as dedicated to his job as Voight said he would, Casey would be surprised if the detective hadn't drilled the most basic rule: don't drink and drive into his kid's head throughout his childhood. As far as Casey could tell, if the kid was old enough to drive and buy alcohol, he was old enough to take ownership of his crimes.
"But I am telling you right now I am going to be up that kid's ass until he gets his head on straight. I'm going to get him in a program, the whole deal. You have my word on it."
"Good to hear," Casey finally said, knowing it wasn't only part of what Voight wanted to hear. Casey had encountered cops like the Detective before and knew that they expected him to fall at their feet with assurances just because of their job. Casey had no intention of letting the kid off because of some pretty words from his father.
"See, the thing is Justin, that's my son. He's got some priors. This thing that happened the other night, if there was alcohol involved, that's a felony. He does time. Real time. You been to Statesville? You been to these places? You don't want your kid there, trust me."
Because Casey had looked into the kid. Had really gotten the facts before he made a decision about what to put in his report and knew what the kid was facing. So when Voight had first approached him this was what he had been expecting, because no father wanted to see their child go to jail. That, at least, Casey understood.
But he had been to Statesville. Had seen guys spend days in lockup. Seen the blank stares of inmates who wouldn't taste free air for decades. He'd seen all that and it still stuck with him. But still he'd seen places a thousand times worse and nothing Voight said to him could convince him that Justin spending a few years in prison would be the worst thing that could ever happen to him.
"I'm sympathetic, but that's got nothing to do with me," Casey tried, knowing full well that it wouldn't work.
"Sure it does." Voigt's voice was almost strangled in his effort to remain composed. "You filed a report that said my so was drunk that night."
"He was." And they both knew it.
"Well, I need you to retract it."
Casey almost laughed for the first time since he'd encountered the cop. He should have expected this; the old 'I need this' routine. It was common amongst addicts. Casey didn't doubt that Voight really did care for his son and that was the basis of why the man was here talking to him, almost begging for Casey to let his son off but Casey also knew the eyes of addicts. Had seen enough of them, wild eyes that screamed for the next hit while they were held down and taken to hospital, eyes clouded by adrenaline as the firefighter got off on the thrill of cheating death. Casey knew addiction well and he was almost sure that Voight was addicted to the power he held over the common man, addicted to the feeling of using his position to make anyone do anything he wanted. So yeah, Casey didn't doubt that Voight thought he 'needed' Casey to let his son off.
"Let me tell you I will owe you. Big time. I'm a good guy to have a favour bank with," Voight said.
"The kid in the other car. Did you know he's paralysed." Casey just needed to know if Voight came here knowing his son had caused the destruction of three other lives.
"Yeah. And it breaks my heart." Casey didn't have a chance to seethe at the faked sympathy because Voight was quick to turn it back to his son. "But there is no sense having two tragedies coming from that night. And putting ten years on my son would be a tragedy, 'Cause he's a great guy."
"I've been to Statesville. You ever been to a spinal injury center? Family watches their kid drag his feet while gripping some parallel bars, clinging to the fantasy that he'll walk again one day. And the dad quits his job to help the mum take care of him, and takes out a second mortgage out on their house to pay for it."
Casey wasn't just speaking from hypothetical anymore but rather from experience. It'd been several years ago when the current candidate of the house, a boy barely twenty had had his career destroyed when a beam had fallen on him, paralysing him from the waist down. Casey had only gone to visit him once at the rehab centre, the sight of the fresh-faced kid struggle with the basic movement as tears of exertion poured down his face had been enough to change him forever.
"And on top of that," Casey continued, the face on the kid changing to the young sixteen year old he'd pulled from the wreck. "They have to live with the shame that the police and fire departments shoved a lie down their throat, that they caused the accident? What you're asking me to do-"
"I'm not asking!" Voight yelled, his voice filling the nearly empty bar as he stood suddenly and towered over Casey.
But Casey didn't stand or even flinch. He'd faced down fires ravaging 100 story buildings before, victims so mangled by blood and gore that Casey couldn't even tell what gender they were, sights that left him immobilised for hours after, he'd faced all that and survived. So it would take more than a little yelling from the cop to put him the slightest bit on edge.
Voight sat slowly, all pretence of friendliness dropped between the two men. "If you're not the kind of man to do a cop a favour, then I can take this to the next level real easy. It was the end of your shift, you were tired, you got your paperwork mixed up, you got your calls mixed up; there's a million excuses. Pick one. Because believe me you are going to retract that statement, because if you don't, I swear to God-"
Voight trailed off suddenly enough that Casey looked over his shoulder to see what had put the detective off. Strolling casually towards them was Chief Boden, looking every bit like he was just getting a quick drink in the middle of his shift. Casey knew better.
"Casey," Boden greeted quietly as he strolled past their booth and took a seat at the bar. There was a question there, even if it wasn't noticeable to anyone but him.
"Chief," he replied, an assurance in his voice that everything was alright. Still, even though Casey didn't need the help, he was grateful for the backup.
"Hey Chief, can you maybe give us a minute? This is kind of a private conversation."
Anyone else might have been put off by the suggestion and the hint of authority lacing the words, but Boden didn't so much as blink as he regarded Voight coolly.
"No, I'm good."
Voight was silent for a moment but obviously got that he wouldn't be getting any further with Casey, especially with Boden sitting right there and he stood without another word, tossed a wad of cash down and left the bar. The two firefighters watched him go passively before Boden turned to his Lieutenant, eyebrows raised in question.
"I'm not changing a word."
The rest of shift continued without further incident and the next morning Severide grudgingly kept to his word and attended the appointment Shay had made for him. The scans of his shoulder and neck were fairly painless but Severide had a bad feeling churning his stomach that was only confirmed by the look on the doctor's face - he'd already forgotten her name in his nervousness - when she sat down across from him, x-rays firmly in hand.
"Honestly, I don't know how you're walking around, let alone working right now. What happened?"
Severide's stomach dropped at both the tone and the words. If a doctor, who had to have seen just about everything there was to be seen could be surprised by his injury it had to be bad.
Heart in his throat, Severide said, "Job related. I figured it was just a pinched nerve."
The doctor nodded slowly and strode over to the screen. She pushed the x-ray into lace, flicked on the lights and used a pen to circle the affected section of the spine. "It is a pinched nerve. Cause by a fracture in your c5 vertebra."
"Okay," Severide said, too stunned to come up with anything better or voice any of the million questions whizzing through his head.
The doctor pulled the x-ray down and rejoined him at the desk, looking grave. "You're lucky you can feel pain at all right now. But there's a surgery which can take pressure off the nerve."
"How long would I be off work?" The question came out quickly but to Severide his job was all he really had in this world and his ability to fight fires would always come first before all else.
"Full rehab: six months to a year." Her tone suggested that Severide should feel lucky to have a short rehabilitation period; but all Severide could think of was the minimum 180 days he would have to live through before he could come back, 180 long days of sitting around doing nothing while his brothers put themselves in danger. There was no way.
"How about without the surgery?"
Before he could even finish the question the doctor was already shaking her head. "We're dealing with motor nerve damage, so there's no definitive timetable; but you can expect weaknesses of the hands, you can expect muscle atrophy, and then if it deteriorates, fasciculation, twitching of the hands, of the knees. After that you don't want to know."
Essentially complete loss over his body, the doctor was telling. So basically, either way he was fucked.
Casey was mere minutes away from escaping the firehouse when he ran into Dawson in the locker room. He just had to meet up with the truck boys about something than he could escape for 48 hours but the look on Dawson's face told him, she was in the mood for a chat.
"My brother called. Asked if you were sure about what're doing. I dolt him 'You don't know Casey very well'."
Casey shot her an appreciative smile and zipped up his bag and preparing to swing it over his shoulder.
"You holding up alright?"
"Yeah, I'm good," Casey said with a slight frown, surprisingly truthful. Despite Voight's threats he wasn't worried about what was going to happen next. Whatever Voight was going to do would pale in comparison to knowing that the person responsible for putting the sixteen year old kid in that chair was going to be held responsible.
"What would you have done?" Casey asked.
Dawson let out a small breath of air, head tilting as she thought about it. "I- you know, I went back and forth on this, especially with Antonio in my ear, but you want to know the honest answer? If I held that information out of the report, I thought about how I'd feel looking people I respect in the eye. You know, and I guess specifically, I thought about how I'd feel looking you in the eye. And that when I knew I would've done the right thing."
The reasons she said weren't so different from those that had ultimately pushed Casey into writing his report but it wasn't that that stunned him. Casey didn't know if Dawson meant to reveal as much as she did as she spoke but he wasn't stupid nor oblivious. He knew that Dawson harboured some sort of interest in him and had for a long time and she was a beautiful, intelligent woman but Casey just didn't return the feelings. Hoping she'd just get over the attraction with time if he kept their relationship purely platonic, Casey wished her a happy two day break and said goodbye, heading for the rec room where he knew the truck boys would be waiting for him.
The halls of the house were basically deserted, most of the previous shift already having left and the new shift out the front checking over their equipment. He entered the room to find the boys clustered around the money box as Mouch counted the takings of the t-shirt booth.
"300, 310, 325," Mouch was muttering under his breath as he tallied up the last few dollars. "344 dollars, he announced.
Catching sight of Casey, Herrmann turned to explain, "We found a 32-inch over in Roscoe Village; the guy says it's barely been used."
Casey hummed thoughtfully and his gaze dropped to the chocolate cake that had almost been completely devoured at lunch and the beginning's of an idea formed in his head. A few quick tallies and budgeting solidified the plan and a small smile graced his lips.
"I've got a better idea."
He gestured them all closer and set about dictating instructions dividing the company in half; one side in charge of getting all the supplies, the other in charge of spreading the word. They all assented and agreed to meet back up in two hours.
While it was still a little early for lunch, by the time Severide got back to his apartment he was so fraught by distress over the results that he needed to busy himself with something before he went crazy. With the apartment being spotless thanks to Shay he settled for preparing a salad figuring the time and attention it would take would be enough to settle himself down.
The sudden pad of feet signaled Shay's return and from her wet hair and swimsuit Severide figured she'd been making use of the apartment complex's pool downstairs.
"Hey," he said.
"Hey," she returned easily, her voice unusually soft. "So, how'd it go?" Shay asked.
Usually Severide wouldn't dare lie, his own personal morals and experience telling him it was a bad idea. But he'd thought about how'd he'd answer when Shay asked the inevitable answer and he knew what she would say if he told her the truth. In her eye's there'd be no choice other than taking the surgery but there was also no way Severide was about to let himself be bullied into doing something that could potentially end his career.
So instead he said, "Good. Nice lady. Said I've just gotta find a way to manage the pain."
"Yeah," Shay said slowly and Severide's heart sank. "Kendra said that you basically have a broken neck."
Severide knew he probably should have expected Shay would find out but he also had thought that doctor/patient confidentiality would give him more than five minutes with the information before he had to deal with Shay's input.
"Well, if the two of you already talked, then why are you asking me?"
But he knew why. That had just been a test and he had without a doubt just failed it.
Severide tossed his knife down and tried to explain his reservations. "I get that surgery, there's follow-up exams. There's paperwork involved. The department doesn't like how it looks, I go on long-term disability."
Forgetting the fact that he'd been sitting on the injury for months, Severide knew it looked bad. He wasn't stupid and he'd been around the fire department long enough to know how it worked and easily it was to be bounced to disability. If it was one thing the department was efficient on, it was the health of it's firefighter's.
"That's 75% pay," Shay answered, as if Severide would be satisfied not working as long as he was getting good pay.
"And then do what, Shay? I fish off Navy pier for the next 20 years? Working squad is all I've ever wanted. It's all I have. If I have to eat the pain, then I will."
Shay opened her mouth, no doubt to tell him how stupid that was but before she could a knock on the door had them both turning around in surprise. Basically anyone who knew them would know that it was a shift day for them yesterday and depending on the calls during the night would mean they could be sleeping or almost there.
"Who's that?" Shay asked, more to herself than him, Severide though as he abandoned his lunch again in favour of escaping Shay's interrogation and opening the door.
When Severide opened the door, he only had a second to identify the person there as Nicki's father before the man was stepping right up into his space aggressively. Severide, desperately tried not to think of the last time Nicki stood right where her father was now standing.
"Hey," Al said shortly. "Remember me?"
"I do," Severide said slowly, hoping to stall as much as possible, not wanting to have this conversation at all, let alone with Shay standing nearby listening in.
Getting straight to the point, Al delivered a verbal sucker punch. "Nicki is engaged."
Severide's stomach dropped for the hundredth time that day and he coughed uncomfortably.
Taking his silence as an opportunity, Al glanced over Severide's shoulder, catching sight of the scantily clad Shay standing in stoic silence watching them. "Besides, it, uh, looks like you're already having your fun there."
Severide wanted to say something, explain. Tell him that Shay was just his room-mate or that she was gay but words failed him as he glanced wordlessly between Shay and Al. Besides he doubted that the man would believe him anyway.
"This conversation need to continue?" Al said brashly.
Severide's throat unstuck long enough from him to rush out, "No, sir. It doesn't'"
"Right." Without another word, Al strode away, leaving Severide and Shay to stand in stunned silence.
Again, Severide was struck with the urge to call after him and explain that he never would have gone there if he had known. Affairs weren't his thing on any day but an engaged person, he had enough experience on the other side of that to never even consider that. But that was a story Severide was barely comfortable enough with to discuss with his closest friends, let alone some random guy so Severide swung the door shut decisively and let it go.
He turned away, wanting to get over the conversation as quickly as possible, only to find Shay standing there in silent judgment.
"There you have it," he said, hoping to stave off any more lectures from her.
He started to head back to the kitchen to finish his lunch but the trill of his phone reminding him he had an unread message had him stopping short. The text had originally come through while he'd been at the appointment and not wanting to be rude, Severide had left it, hoping it wasn't important and had promptly forgotten about it once the doctor had told him how bad his neck actually was.
But now he pulled his phone from his pocket as a welcome distraction and clicked it open to find a message from Herrmann waiting for him. A smile grew on his face as he read the message, the plan iot detailed clearly orchestrated by Casey and he abruptly changed course. He scooped up his keys and headed back to the door, mindless of Shay's curious question.
"You can have that salad if you want," Severide offered and left the apartment before she could answer.
The message Herrmann had sent was a few hours before but hopefully they still needed the help. Using the directions in the text, it only took Severide a few minutes to get to Greg Duffy's house and he pulled up to see a good number of the firefighter's on his shift working together to construct a ramp from the doorway down to the sidewalk.
He clambered out of the car and approached Casey who was quibbling with Otis over a piece of equipment the man had gotten wrong.
"That's a t-square," Casey was correcting and when Otis looked at the thing in his hands quizzically Casey shook his head. "Just go."
"Okay," Otis sighed and went to try again.
"Where do you want me," Severide called, gaining Casey's attention. The Lieutenant looked up from his drill in surprise and a startled smile spread across his face.
Still Casey didn't miss a beat and nodded at Otis' retreating back. "You can go help Otis and stay out of the way."
"Hey," Severide protested, leaning against the mostly constructed ramp carefully. "I can do more than run around like a lap dog fetching stuff."
Casey scoffed. "Please I've seen you with a hammer."
"Alright, alright," Severide held up his hands in surrender. "What do you need?"
"Know what a level looks like?"
Severide's nose screwed up automatically, as he tried to conjure up any memories from the time Casey decided he needed to expand his knowledge on construction tools and had proceeded to empty his toolbox and truck naming each piece of equipment and what it did, the whole process taking hours. So naturally now, Severide drew a complete blank.
"I may… have the slightest… vaguest idea, of what it might look like."
"Hmmm," Casey hummed wryly and indicated Otis with a jerk of his head. "I'm sure between the two of you, you can figure it out."
Severide grinned sheepishly and left Casey to… whatever he was doing with the drill, going to see if he could maybe rustle up a level. Whatever that was.
After another few hour of work, just as the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon they finally put the finishing touches on the ramp. It was steep, but not to steep so that Mikey would be able to push himself up without anyone else's help, railings on both sides, grips all along it to prevent slipping from anyone when the inevitable rain came. They packed up slowly, all tired from the day in the sun, amidst profuse thanking from the Duffy's.
"Bears game starts in a half hour," Herrmann commented, looking around at the group slyly.
Obviously picking up on Herrmann's silent intent, Mouch was the one to speak next. "It there a decent spot around here to watch it. Not too crowded, not too loud, and we can get seats?"
Mills stilled in his crouch on the bed of Casey's truck where he was winding up a power cord. "Yeah," he said slowly. "I know a place."
The group chorused their approval and agreed to head straight there, all quickly dispersing to their own cars. Casey dumped the rest of his gear into the back of his truck, looking around in surprise when he saw that Severide was still standing there.
"You heading home or...?" Casey asked.
A few weeks ago Severide would have taken it as Casey's passive way of asking him leave and probably would have gone off, but now that they were back on speaking terms and enough of the anger had ebbed away he could see that it was Casey asking him to come while still leaving him an out, should he choose to take it.
Severide glanced around. The truck guys, who made up the group who had remained all day building were all hovering, half in and half out of there cars, evidently waiting for his response.
Why not, he thought. Going home would probably only mean another conversation with Shay that he wasn't ready to have. Besides, the truck company were a good bunch: most of them smarter than the average firefighter and always willing to take a good joke. Most of them, Severide considered as close as family and he hadn't been able to be with them in a while. Why not indulge in this?
"Nah," he said finally. "Thought I might tag along. As long as that's alright with you," he added as an afterthought, thinking suddenly that Casey might have been asking him to go after all.
"Of course," Casey said quickly. "See you there then." With nothing more than a small smile, Casey swung himself into his truck and Severide turned to head to his own car, trying not to think about what the sight of that smile had done to his insides.
The ride to Mills' dinner was short and the second the stepped out of the car Herrmann went into full Dad mode lecturing them on their behaviour.
"We're going in someplace nice so go easy, guys."
Mills entered first with Herrmann and the others right on his heels.
"Hey, Mum," he said with an accompanying hug and kiss.
Herrmann was next. "This looks like a Mum, am I right?" he crowed, wrapping her up in a tight hug. "Herrmann," he introduced. "You got one sweet kid."
Ingrid Mills smoothed a hand over her hair, shocked at the warmth displayed by the firefighters. Neither her nor her son had been expecting it. It had been a long time for Ingrid and Peter had been too young to remember the familial connection that developed within a house.
"Hello, Mrs Mills," Mouch said next, hugging her as well. "Mouch."
"Mouch?"
"Mouch," he confirmed with a knowing smile.
"Nice to meet you, Mo-Mouch," she replied, stumbling over the odd name.
"You'll get used to it," Mouch assured her and stepped away.
"Otis," Mills put in as the next firefighter stepped up for a greeting hug.
"Otis, nice to meet you."
"Brian," he corrected gently and pressed a kiss to her cheek before stepping away also.
As Vargas and Cruz greeted Mills' mother, Severide nudged Casey gently and nodded at Mills, who was watching the ritual with dazed, slightly perplexed look on his face. The two Lieutenant's shared a smile. For someone who hadn't grown up with it, as Casey hadn't, it was always astonishing at first, the connection that developed between firefighter families. If Mills made it around here, he would no doubt see first hand just what lengths they'd be willing to go for each other.
"Lieutenant Kelly Severide," the man in questioned said as he shook Ingrid's hand and drew her in for a hug. "You have quite a son," he murmured quietly before they withdrew.
Finally it was only Casey left.
"Uh, this is my boss, Ma. Lieutenant Casey."
"Lieutenant, it's so great to have you guys here," she said, pulling him for a hug.
Casey stood floored for a moment. It had been many years since he had last been hugged like this and for a second his body didn't know what to do with itself. But then he relaxed into her hold.
Still despite his shock, Casey didn't forget, for a moment the manners his own mother had drilled into him as a child. "Nice to meet you ma'am."
"And hey, this is my sister Elise," Mills said, addressing the room at large as his sister appeared bearing a tray of beers. She was greeted with a chorus of cheers and she distributed the drinks, meeting each of the men in her brother's unit.
Using their momentary distraction, Ingrid quickly pulled Casey aside, asking if he could spare a minute to talk to her.
"I don't sleep at night, when he's on shift." Ingrid didn't know what else to say other than that but Casey seemed to know immediately what to say.
"I'll look after him," he said, features softening. "I promise."
Ingrid's own features lightened into her own fond smile and she gripped his shoulder tightly in silent thanks.
"Alright, you guys make yourselves at home. We'll bring some food out."
"Mother's worry?" Severide asked quietly as he and Casey slid into the booth.
"Of course," Casey responded, settling against the window, his own voice shielded by Herrmann's declarations of love to his Honey Bears.
They turned their attention back to the screen where the commentators were hyping the viewers up with stats on all the major players, placing their own unofficial bets on who was going to win the game.
Casey could almost feel himself relaxing when a car deliberately slowing outside the dinner caught his attention. He turned just in time to see a black car, bearing Detective Voight crawl past with a pointed look at Casey before speeding away.
"You alright, man?" Severide asked.
"Yeah," Casey managed around the sudden lump in his throat. And he wished he was telling the truth, because right as things were looking to get better, he now had the sudden and overwhelming bad feeling that things were about to get so much more complicated.