Hey nerdlets,
So it's my last day of holidays so who knows how quickly I'll be putting out chapters after this. I have the next three already written but I prefer to post only after I've written the next so...yeah.
Just a couple things: I can't remember if I put this in the notes of previous chapters but this fic will go until episode 13 of season 1 and then the next fic will go fro episode 14. I'm doing this mostly so this fic doesn't get tedious and because I know how I want it to end at 13.
On that note yay I have outlined the rest of my story, so I know how just about everything is going to go down up to ep 13. Now it's just a matter of writing it.
After that I'm not too sure where it's going to go mostly because if I stick with canon I have to deal with Hallie coming back and I also have to deal with Heather who comes into play. I have some really good ideas about what I could do with that but from a shipper standpoint it could be a little hard because it'll mean delaying Sevasey a bit. I don't know. Let me know what you think, more slowburn Sevasey in the next instalment or just get them together already?
Finally I know a lot of you are worried about Sevasey actually getting together judging by your comments by rest assured I'm sticking with the summary. Endgame Sevasey was promised so Sevasey endgame there shall be no matter what happens from ep 14 onwards. But what type of writer would I be if I didn't subject all my lovely readers to some slowburn pain every once in a while (all the time) XD
On the subject of readers you guys are seriously amazing. Everyone who comments, reviews, leaves kudos you are amazing and I could not do this without you xoxo I missed it but last update but we hit 50k and wow that officially makes this the longest thing I've ever written. If you want an idea of how long it is, the google doc I'm working out of is around 180 pages so yeah... crazy. You might notice that I'm slowly deviating from cannon swapping Dawson for Severide when it makes more sense to me and adding in my own scenes (not really this chapter but definitely the next ones) so hopefully you like it.
On that note don't forget to comment letting me know what you liked, what you didn't and what you'd like to see. Until next time nerdlets.
Severide knew the day wasn't going to be good, what with all the drama with Nicki and her father and his shoulder acting up but the sudden appearance of two men - one of whom was holding a video camera - didn't bode well for the afternoon. Severide pushed away from the Squad table slowly, being the only one who had noticed their appearance in the driveway. The truck boys played on with their game of basketball, oblivious.
Catching the movement of their lieutenant the rest of the Squad followed his lead and when the man suddenly spoke the rest of the firefighters on the floor looked around in surprise.
"My name is Marc Thorne," he announced and something in the back of Severide's head tripped at the name, knowing he'd heard it before. One look at the man's t-shirt bearing another man's face and he remembered, this was the brother of the man they'd lost in the warehouse fire the shift before and had gone on tv personally naming their house responsible. Severide's entire body bristled at the sight of the man. "I'm here to talk to Chief Wallace Boden," Thorne continued when no one spoke. "Is he here?"
Somehow knowing that something was up, the doors leading inside opened suddenly and Boden strode out, Casey right on his heels. Maintaining his composure, Boden walked straight up to the man and offered a hand for him to shake.
Throne glanced quickly at his companion with the camera, as if to be sure that he was recording it all before taking the proffered hand.
"I'm very sorry for your loss, Mr Thorne."
With nothing more than a respectful nod Boden turned away again, seemingly intent on going back inside and the entire group seemed to hold it's breath as they waited to see Thorne's next move.
"Chief Boden! You knew my brother was in that warehouse."
One lone voice spoke out against the accusations. "Did you?" Herrmann stepped forward, staring Thorne down unflinchingly. "The guy was homeless, keeping warm in a warehouse. You're his brother. Where have you been?"
"Herrmann, come on," Mills tried taking a step after him.
"No sorry," Herrmann replied, sparing Mills half a glance. "I'm not going to be quiet. 'Cause a few weeks ago, I almost bought the farm, trying to save a stranger," Herrmann was addressing Thorne directly again. "It's what we do, every day. It's what we tried to do for your brother. Chief Boden made the call he had to make. Just be glad you never have to do that."
Thorne was quiet, looking out at the line of grim firefighter's staring back while Herrmann turned away dismissively. Thorne gulped visibly, shifted for a few seconds uncertainly on his feet before turning and leaving, the camera wielding friend following in a seemingly state of shock at the turn of event.
Similarly, stunned at what had just gone down the firefighters slowly shuffled back inside, gathering in the rec room in near silence. Which was how Mills found himself staring at the familiar newspaper someone had left lying around, the harsh headline a slap to the face.
When the ambo girls got back from their callout they came bearing a tray of cupcakes which they slid onto the table in front of Herrmann silently. He looked up with a quiet noise of surprise.
"What's this?" he asked tilting his head back to get a look at Shay who was hovering behind his chair.
Shay hummed and leaned down to rest her chin on his shoulder. "We heard you represented, Herrmann."
While the company reached forward to claim a cupcake before all the good flavours were gone Dawson looked around smugly. "So I'm going to throw out a name," she declared loudly. "Clarice Carthage," Dawson continued, smiling at the ensuing shock, which was enough to have even Casey look over. The firefighter's present groaned appropriately while Shay ignored the lot of them and concentrated on pouring her coffee.
Mills feeling left in the dark asked, "Wait, what?"
"The bitchy ex-girlfriend," Cruz put in darkly.
"She wasn't a bitch, per se," Shay replied tiredly.
"She was a little full of herself," Casey said, looking uncomfortably as he acted out of character to add in his own input.
Dawson seemed unable to help herself but continue. "Well she has a new status update: She is now Clarice Schwartz, married to a dude, and seven months pregnant."
Otis was on his feet in an instant, hands thrown in the air in triumph as he let out an elated whoop and the rest of the room laughed in both response to the news and his reaction.
"Did I not call that? Did I not say she had one foot in, one foot out?" He accepted a high five from Cruz and threw himself back into his chair, beaming with victory.
"You did not say that," Shay responded, not sounding at all amused.
"Well not to you maybe," Otis said dismissively. "But did I not call that?"
"He called that," Herrmann conceded with a laugh and bit into his cupcake. The rest of the company continued to laugh at the turn of events while Shay barely restrained her annoyance.
Dinner was the usual affair that night, food fairly simple and conversation loud but it was the desert that the whole house was looking forward to. They'd broken open one of the jumbo bags of candy and with ice cream and all the chocolate sauce they could eat, there was a feast that guaranteed more than a few stomach aches. They were of course pulled from resting from their food coma's by the tell tale bellow of the bells, pulling the truck and ambulance companies from their comfortable spots.
So used to jumping at the name Truck 81 Vargas was on his feet before he could even really think about it. Luckily for him Cruz was quick to correct is mistake.
"Vargas wants back on truck already, huh?"
The Truck boys laughed as they disappeared out onto the apparatus floor and Vargas sat back down, ignoring the gentle ribbing of Squad 3.
The scene they were called to was that of a street fair; the blocked off streets teaming with intoxicated people, the pavements lined with hastily constructed booths and rides. Casey suppressed a groan as they pulled to a stop and jumped out to help the ambo girls search for their victim. Courtesy was quickly left behind as the firefighter's were tasked with the difficult job of finding a victim amongst a mass of inebriated, costumed people.
"Make way," Casey ordered as he and his men fanned out to slowly check the crowds, the bloodied halloween costumes making it even harder to find their victim.
"Anyone see an injured person? We're looking for an injured person."
A young woman, looking worried under her tanned complexion and makeup suddenly darted out from the crowd and seized Casey's arm. "Thank God. He's over here." Without anymore preamble the woman starting tugging him forward.
"Here," she said, finally letting him go when they got to the victim, a young male who was convulsing on the floor.
Using a free hand Casey tugged his radio around and pulled up to his mouth so he could get the location to Shay and Dawson. "Got a location on the victim. Uh," Casey looked around, searching for any identifying markers. His eyes slid over the nearest ride with a garish green and purple painted sign and decided it would have to do. "'Witch's Brew'." He tried hopefully.
It must have been enough despite his doubts however because after only a brief pause, Dawson's muffled voice was answering through the radio, "Copy that."
The girls were there within the minute and while they got to work on the victim, Casey and his men focussed on keeping the teeming crowds back enough so they could work uninterrupted.
"Did he take any drugs," Shay asked, looking at the girl who had brought them to the victim.
"No," she replied quickly, biting at her scarlet painted lips in her anxiousness. "Only a couple of beers. And then all of a sudden his eyes rolled back and he dropped and just started jerking around."
"Does he have a history of seizures?"
The girl shrugged helplessly. "I don't think so. This is only our second date," she said apologetically.
What with the lack of information, Casey could tell Dawson and Shay were hesitant to do anything drastic and wasn't surprised that they ordered him up onto the gurney, so they could get on their way to the hospital as soon as possible. While a few of the men helped roll the man onto the backboard, the rest stood in a loose circle trying to keep back the interested crowd.
Casey gritted his teeth when another slipped forward and almost groaned when he recognised the costume the guy was wearing as a cheap, crude imitation of a firefighter. The stupid smile the guy was sporting told Casey that the guy was way past rational thinking.
"Hey, let me help out, fellas."
"Stay back, sir," Casey said shortly, throwing out an arm to stop him get any nearer to the still seizing victim.
"Yeah, how about giving me a c4 tube and a Lidocaine drip?" The man said, laughing idiotically at his own joke along with a few others in the crowd.
"Let 'em do their job," Herrmann snapped, obviously in no mood to put up with the man.
"All right, ready to move," Mills said as soon as they had the patient strapped in and ready to go. Without another word those closest to the gurney began pushing it back through the crowds to the ambulance. Casey and Herrmann followed at a slower pace.
Apparently unable to resist, the man in the firefighter costume took a step after them, calling out as he did, "Don't tell them you're homeless. They won't help you."
Before Casey could even blink Herrmann had turned around and shoved the man hard enough to almost put him on his ass. Casey was between them in a second.
"Hey! Hey! Go! Get to the truck, now."
Herrmann, breathing heavily tried to resist for only a few moments before apparently deciding it wasn't worth it and promptly turned on his heel and stalked away. Casey spared a glance over his shoulder, half worried that the man might complain. But despite the disgruntled look on the man's faced, judging by the smell of his breath he wouldn't remember the altercation enough in the morning.
After seeing the ambulance off and sending his men to wait in the truck, he rounded the back to find Herrmann leaning there, staring moodily away from the street fair.
"You got your head screwed on straight?" Casey asked, removing his medical gloves with a snap.
Herrmann shook his head in disgust. "These people, mouthing off at us. Like we don't give-"
"We rise above it." Casey interrupted Herrmann before the older man could work his way into a rant, reminding his former mentor of something that he'd told Casey more times than he could remember back when he was a candidate.
Herrmann nodded minutely and though his expression was still pinched he murmured an assent. "Won't happen again."
Casey clapped the man on the shoulder and turned away, tugging off his radio as he went. "Let's get the hell out of here," he said as he swung himself up into the passenger seat. And although he received no response other than Cruz turning the key in the ignition he had a feeling that everyone was more than happy to get away from the drunken party goers.
Severide knew the moment the Truck guys walked in that it hadn't been a particularly good callout. Not that they ever were. Herrmann stomping straight into the sleeping quarters was evidence enough. But the angry faces of the other members and the weary set of Casey's shoulder told him all he needed to know.
"Let me guess," Severide said, as Casey made a beeline for the kitchen. "Drunken idiots?" The thunderous expression on Casey's face was confirmation enough. "Your favourites."
He laughed when Casey kicked out at his chair on his way past, sending him spinning away from the table. He watched as Casey poured his umpteenth cup of coffee for the day and shook his head in fond exasperation.
"You know you're going to kill yourself one day."
Casey grinned into his mug. He didn't even need to ask what Severide was talking about.
"Then I'll die a happy man," Casey said, lowering the cup.
"I would comment on how unhealthy your addiction is but-"
"-but you're as bad as me?" Casey asked.
"Yeah," Severide replied with a grin, spreading his hands unapologetically.
"Anyway, I have a tonne of paperwork so…" Casey trailed off and raised his coffee slightly in lieu of the rest of the goodbye.
"Figures," Severide scoffed good-naturedly. "Ever the responsible one, Casey."
"Goodnight Severide," Casey called without looking back as he walked away.
"Night, Casey," Severide murmured watching him go.
Casey almost made it back to his quarters, mind already going through the details of the call for the report he'd have to write later when Nicki caught ahold of him. He tried not to remember the last time he'd seen her: coming out of the equipment room after a quick screw with Severide and fought the urge to bristle.
"Lieutenant Casey, there's someone out front for you," Nicki said, waving a hand erratically in the general direction of the driveway.
Casey nodded his thanks with a tight smile and changed course abruptly heading outside. He almost turned right back around however when he saw Voight leaning against his car, a small, smug smile playing on his lips.
"Detective," Casey said in greeting.
But Voight skipped all pleasantries and got straight to the point. "I've got some good news for you."
"Oh yeah, what's that?"
"Well, I heard about what happened to your car."
Casey had ended up filing a report documenting the crime and all that had been stolen but he honestly hadn't expected anything to come of it.
"And I don't normally handle this kind of thing," Voight continued. "But to be honest, I felt like I owed you an apology after my behaviour the other day. I was out of line."
Casey didn't buy the story or the apologetic look on Voight's face for a second, his gut telling him that the detective wasn't the type of guy who so much as acknowledged it when he was wrong; but he let him talk, reluctant to get into again with the man.
"So I put my guys on it, and we caught the little scumbag." For the first time since they'd started talking Voight pushed away from the car, revealing a young kid slouched sullenly in the back seat.
Casey squinted at the boy. "And how'd you know it was him?" Casey asked not putting it past Voight to frame some random he found on the street.
Voight directed him closer with a jerk of his head and as Casey slowly obliged, Voight opened the front passenger seat and withdrew Casey's gym bag.
"I'm assuming this is yours. And he had it on him," Voight said, handing the bag over. "Hey make sure nothing's missing, will you?" Voight put in just as Casey was about to thank him and escape back into the firehouse.
He frowned at the odd request but indulged him, unzipping the bag to root through the contents in a quick check. Casey found the basis for the request almost instantly and didn't even think before pulling out the unfamiliar roll of notes and holding it up.
"This isn't mine."
"Well, the kid must have stashed it in there. You know there's a simple, honest solution to all our problems."
Case almost laughed at that; he had a feeling that anything Voight was involved in wasn't honest.
"One that keeps my son out of jail and let's you and I get on with our lives. All you gotta do is change that report."
"I'm not going to do that." And without another word, Casey placed the money on the hood and walked away, leaving Voight to stare after him, a hard expression darkening his features.
When he reached the apparatus floor, Severide looked up from his table with a perplexed look. He looked past his fellow lieutenant just in time to see Voight push away from his car, get inside and pull away with a loud screech.
Severide blinked up at Casey.
"Everything ok?"
"Yeah," he replied tiredly. "Everything's fine. He was just returning my gym bag."
"Just returning your gym bag?" Severide echoed uncertainly looking out at the now empty driveway. His eyes slid back to Casey. "And you're sure you're alright?"
"I'm fine, Severide." Casey said tiredly, managing to muster up a weary smile. "Don't worry."
Severide nodded wordlessly and didn't protest when Casey moved past him but rather watched the rigid set of the man's shoulders as he disappeared inside.
By the time the morning rolled around Casey was more than happy to get out of the station. While he was usually happy to get home after a long shift, usually working gave him a sense of clarity, an escape from his problems. Lately it just seemed to be the source of it all.
Dawson found him just as he had finished changing out of his work clothes, sighing over the bags of candy leftover from Halloween, now loaded into her arms. "Last year we went through four of these. This year, we barely finished one." She dumped the bags onto the bench with a mixture of a sigh and a groan and turned to her own locker.
"Not the best day," Casey agreed and even he could hear the tiredness in his voice.
"What is it?"
And just to get it all out, Casey found himself telling her what had gone down last night, if only because she was Antonio's sister. "Detective Voight showed up here last night, tried to bribe me with a wad of cash."
"What? Wha- well we've got to call me brother and tell him," she said straight away.
But Casey was already waving her away and turning back to his open locker before she'd finished. He'd thought about it at length last night and had already come to a conclusion. "I'm just going to testify and let the courts handle it."
"Well, what does Hallie say?"
Casey pulled a face. "I haven't actually gotten around to telling her yet. I didn't want to worry her, I guess," he added at her questioning look.
"You should tell her."
Casey hummed thoughtfully but didn't verbalise any such commitment to do so. "I'll see you later," he said after a moment's contemplation and stood, swinging his bag over his shoulder as he went.
"Yeah, later," Dawson said quietly after him.
Hours later and a few miles from the house, Severide was being distracted from his thoughts which, up until then, had been consumed by Casey and the whole Voight drama by the sudden and amusing display of a drunk Shay.
"I mean, you should have seen Clarice's apartment," Shay said, a slight slur to her voice as she poured herself another generous glass of vodka. "It was like… a museum," she continued after a moment's thought, the alcohol slowing her brain processes. "All this fancy breakable crap everywhere."
Severide fought down a smile.
"The place she and I used to live in, it was peeling paint and dripping faucets. You wanted to hang out there all day long, well you remember."
And Severide did, Shay's apartment with Clarice had been a constant after-shift hangout spot for the house. It was only after their breakup did she move in with him and at the time, Casey.
"Will you pass me a lime?" she requested, finally focussing on the fish she'd been basting for close to twenty minutes now.
"Yeah, sure," Severide said, tossing over said lime.
She accepted it with a grim smile and squeezed it into the pan.
"They had a floor-to-ceiling wine rack. I mean, she used to hate wine. She drank beer."
Here Severide had to seriously hold himself back from making a crack about lesbians and beer, knowing that in her current state, Shay probably wouldn't appreciate it
"I loved that about her," Shay continued mindless of Severide's inner musings. "I guess she drinks wine now," Shay added scathingly.
"Remind me, how long were you two-"
"Three years," Shay answered promptly. "Yeah, I mean, it wasn't, like, you know a casual thing. It was uh, we were serious; or at least I thought we were. Turns out I may have overestimated her lesbianism."
The sarcasm in her tone coupled with the look on her face had Severide chuckling quietly. Before he could say anything however a knock at the door sounded in the apartment and he went to greet the person.
Nicki was standing as expected on the other side, covered from neck to mid calf by a brown coat despite the mild night. He had an idea what she was hiding underneath.
"Hey," she said coyly, leaning forward against the door frame and looking up at him through her eyelashes.
"Hey. You wanna go upstairs? I'll be there in a few."
She bit at her lip seductively, grinned and nodded slowly before moving inside, purposefully brushing against his front as she went. He didn't miss the smug smile she shot Shay's way as she went up. He didn't know where that came from but he didn't put it past Shay to have confronted the girl.
"Really?" she asked, judgement clear in her voice when he came back into the kitchen.
"No offence, but I'm not taking advice from you right now," he said in reference to her tear stained face, old flanno and half empty bottle of vodka.
"This is a new low," she called after him as he retreated upstairs chuckling, two beers firmly in hand.
Nicki was waiting for him on the edge of his bed when he got upstairs and when he shut the door behind him she grinned slyly.
"Want to help me with this?" she asked, toying with the tie of her coat.
He didn't answer, but sat next to her instead, handing her a drink wordlessly. The smile dropped off her face in her confusion and she looked between the cold drink and him.
"What?"
"I was engaged once too. And she did what you're doing and it almost destroyed me. So I think you'd better go home and take a long think about what you're doing and ask yourself if it's worth all the pain he's going to feel when he finds out."
Nicki's mouth dropped open and her eyes filled with tears. Severide looked away and she gathered herself, lurched to her feet and hurried down the stairs, her heels clicking on the stairs and the bang of the door closing behind her echoing through the spacious apartment.
Severide cleared his throat, overcome for a moment by the emotion of dragging all those old memories back up. He'd never spoken that much about Renee before with the exception of one person, who now was barely speaking to him. He'd honestly expected it to hurt more, but she was hardly more than a memory to him now. It didn't hurt anymore than thinking about the time he'd broken his arm in tenth grade. It was one of those rare occurrences where the break hurt like hell but the bone ended up growing back even stronger than before.
He slowly dragged himself to his feet, taking a languid sip of beer and wandered downstairs to find Shay watching the bottom of the stairs, obviously anticipating his arrival. He leaned a hip against the railing and cocked an eyebrow waiting for the verdict.
Shay shook her head at him slowly in response, a small smile forming on her face before raising her almost empty glass in an obvious salute. He raised his own bottle in return and together they drank.
With Nicki now firmly out of his personal life and word going around the house that Thorne had decided to drop his suit, Severide thought that finally things might be going his way by the next shift. That is of course until the first call for the squad came through in the early evening.
"House fire, 220 South Kilbourn, Engine 51, Squad 3, Ambulance 61, Truck 81."
"220 South Kilbourn?" Vargas said, recognising the address the same as Severide.
"Dammit," Severide cursed, already moving to the floor.
"Truck and Engine are near the scene. They'll meet you there."
Severide lifted a hand to show he'd heard before bursting outside, the rest of his Squad right on his heels. The ride to the house was short and familiar and by the time they'd gotten there the blaze was mostly under control.
"What happened?" Severide asked of the first firefighter he came across.
"Molotov cocktail through the front window. Fire's under control," he added already moving on past Severide.
"The woman who lives here, Mrs Grady?"
"With Dawson."
Severide rounded his truck to the Ambulance parked behind them, finding Mrs Grady on the stretcher, not yet loaded in the rig, Shay and Dawson hovering on either side of her.
"Just breathe in, nice and easy," Dawson was saying as she fiddled with the oxygen mask over the woman's face. "We're gonna get that smoke out of your lungs, ok?"
"Is she ok?"
"Yeah, just a little smoke inhalation," Shay supplied. "Oxygen will clear it up."
Dawson nodded at the ambulance and she and Shay prepared to load her up but Severide's hand shot out to stop them.
"Can you give me a second?"
After a brief, conferring glance with Dawson, Shay nodded and slipped away, Dawson following closely behind.
"We could have lost you," Severide told her and the look in her eyes told him that she knew how close it had come. "I won't go to the police, ok? I promise you that. But you gotta talk to me."
Mrs Grady reached up with one hand to tug the mask away from her mouth while the other patted at the hand supporting his weight on the stretcher and then, voice still croaky from the smoke, she began to talk.
Casey noticed Severide's absence almost immediately when the squad company joined his for overhaul instructions rather than going to their own lieutenant. He caught Capp's eye and raised an eyebrow in clear question. Capp sighed and jerked his head to where Severide was disappearing down the block.
"Herrmann?" Casey asked.
The man in question followed his line of sight and in that way of his didn't even need to ask a single question. "Got it, Lieutenant."
Confident with leaving overhaul in Herrmann's capable hands Casey was off in a second, hurrying after Severide and falling into step with him before he could turn the corner. Severide barely spared him half a glance and kept his eyes fixed ahead determinedly.
"I don't need your help," he said not unkindly.
Casey scoffed. "I doubt wherever you're going is a place you should be alone."
Severide looked like he wanted to argue more but when he finally looked over he must have seen something in Casey's eyes because he closed his mouth abruptly and re focussed on the house numbers, looking for the address, Mrs Grady told him.
When he found it, he turned in without a word to Casey, hoping a little maybe that he would just give up and let him do this himself. But no such luck and Casey insisted on thrusting himself into danger alongside him. When they reached the right apartment, bad rap musica audible through the door, Severide didn't allow himself so hesitate before pounding on the door.
A young guy opened the door, immediately looking Severide up and down, taking obvious note of the CFD patch on his jacket. "Who the hell are you?"
Severide didn't answer but pushed further into the room past the protesting man. Casey followed face impassive and kicked the door shut behind him, leaning against it with his arms folded.
"Shut up," Severide commanded, when the guy went to speak again. "Sit down," he continued, gesturing to the lounge where another guy was sprawled watching the confrontation with mild interest.
Severide was honestly surprised when the kid did as he was told, both of them looking past him to glance at Casey. The Truck Lieutenant shouldn't have been intimidating, he was a few inches shorter than Severide who barely scraped 6 feet himself, and he leant more towards lean rather than the bulky muscular form of Severide, but there was something about the firm set of his jaw, his hard eyes and the way he held himself that put people off.
"Mrs Grady," he said, gaining their attention again. "On Kilbourn."
"Man, we don't even know who that is," said the guy who hadn't answered the door, speaking for the first time.
"She's the one who called the cops about the drug dealers on her block. She's also my aunt. Listen to me. I hear about one more ember going anywhere near Mrs Grady or her property again, I'll come back here, break your kneecaps, and don't drag you down to the police station. If you don't have drugs on you, I'll plant them."
Casey shifted by the door but the two dealers didn't seem to notice transfixed by Severide as they were.
"You can't do that," one of them protested.
"The hell I can't," Severide retorted, leaning down to get right into the guy's face. "It's a firefighter's word against a couple of bangers. Who they going to believe?"
The two remained quiet with irritation knowing that Severide was not only right but also, judging on the look in his eyes wasn't lying about coming back here.
"We're done here," Casey said, pulling open the door and waiting for Severide to leave first before following him out closing the door firmly behind them. They didn't say a word to each other as they slowly descended the stairs.
When they reached the final flight, Severide chanced a look over his shoulder.
"So what now?" Casey wanted to know.
Severide grinned, almost manically and said, "We get the hell out of here." He burst through the front doors of the apartment building and with a chuckle Casey followed both breaking into a jog, the pounding of their boots on the pavement and the paintings breaths like a symphony in the night air.
In the hour before the shift change the next morning, the truck company congregated in the rec room to waste time as the minutes before eight ticked over.
"Extra, extra," Herrmann announced as he flipped through the morning newspaper.
Uninterested in whatever he was babbling about, Otis tossed the football in his hand across the room to Casey who was leaning against the kitchen bench.
"Firefighters are off the front page," he continued brandishing the fireless front page. "Back into the black smoke we go until another tragedy."
"Another day, another story," Casey said and lobbed the football back across the room.
"I wonder how much that Thorne is getting from the city," Herrmann grouched as he flipped the page.
"Why work for a living when you can sue someone instead?" Mouch quipped, digging around in the box of doughnuts that had mysteriously appeared that morning.
"Morning Chief," Severide called to Boden who had wandered into the room, as he went for his first cup of coffee for the day.
Boden nodded a hello and turned to address the room at large. "Our assistant Nicki has quit."
Severide stiffened slightly but didn't turn away from the coffee maker.
"According to her father, she has broken off her engagement and left for Europe for a while, so will you all just let me know if you hear of anybody available for the position."
Boden nodded once more before turning to fix his own cup of coffee leaving Severide trying to not look too guilty. Judging by the eyebrow raise he received from Casey he didn't think he wasn't overly successful however.
"Casey, you mind working back a few hours?" Boden asked. "A bug going around and Lieutenant Peters is out for the shift. I've tried calling for a replacement but it seems like the bug's hit a few stations hard so it might not be until this afternoon that we get some relief."
Casey didn't need to think about it too hard. Hallie was working a shift until about the same time so it wasn't as if he would be doing anything other than doing some construction work on his place. Besides the overtime pay couldn't hurt.
"Sure, Chief. You got it."
Sensing Shay was still down about her run-in with Clarice, Severide waited until the night and got Shay to get dressed up, taking her out to roam the streets while he thought of something they could do to cheer her up.
"So where should we go? Restaurant? Bar? Strip club?" The last one was a joke, mostly. He'd never been to a strip club with Shay but he wasn't totally against the idea wither, they were after all interested in the same thing there.
But when Shay answered with a vacant, "Yeah, okay?" he knew things were worse than he thought.
He watched her walk along for a few minutes, eyes downcast, teeth absently tugging at her bottom lip before asking, "Hey, you alright?"
"Yeah," she mumbled but shook her head. "I just always thought she was the one, you know," she finished, her voice a little choked as she came to a stop.
Severide slipped an arm around her shoulders and pull her into a tight hug, pressing a reassuring kiss to the top of her head.
"Strip club it is," he decided, knowing it would make her laugh as they started to walk again, Shay still buried in his leather jacket. And sure enough he was rewarded with a small, if slightly teary smile.
Across town, at the exact same time, Casey was just preparing to head out from the station, the replacement lieutenant, a man he knew from the academy having finally shown up when one of the second shift men called for him, holding out the station phone as explanation.
"Hey, baby what's up. I'm on my way home now."
"Matt," Hallie's voice was tight with worry and something in Casey twisted immediately at the tone. "Something's happened to my car. Someone's trashed it."
"I'll be right there. Ok. Five minutes," he promised.
When Hallie assured him that she would be fine on her own for the five minutes that it would take him to get there, he slammed the phone down and took off out of the station at a jog, nearly crashing into the relief lieutenant in the process.
"Hey thanks Matt for working back," he heard the guy yell after him. He raised a hand in acknowledgment before bursting through the doors and racing to his truck. The tyres squealed in protest when he peeled away from the curb and he didn't drop a mile under the speed the limit the entire way to the hospital.
Looking small and pale in her worry, bathed by the silver moon and the fluorescent lights of nearby street lamps, Hallie was exactly where she'd said she'd be; standing next to the smashed driver window of her car, playing with her keys in her nervousness. He flew from the car much like he would at a fire, barely pulling the key from the ignition before getting out and hurried to her side, finding the car looking identical to his own had the other day: windows smashed and tyres slashed.
He turned away straight away to survey the almost empty parking lot, rationally knowing that the perpetrators would be long gone but unable to stop himself from looking.
"Matt," Hallie said. She was looking at him in surprise, as if his reaction wasn't at all what she'd been expecting. "What is going on?"
He sighed. There was a lot of explaining he had to do but for now all he could do was tug her closer and press a kiss to the top of her head. The rest they'd talk about later.