By the time next shift rolled around, Shay was back on duty, a relief to everyone, especially Severide who had had to live with her as she went stir-crazy at home. She was met of course by an enthusiastic house who were ready for things to get back to normal.
"Hey!" came the great cheer from someone and then they all knew she was there, getting up to greet her with a round of applause. The bruises were still there, fading but a reminder to be gentle. Not that they would tell her that if they didn't want an ass kicking.
"Just a little fender bender, that's all," she assured them. "No big deal."
Dawson moved forward to greet her with a hug, relieved to finally have her partner back in the ambulance with her.
"How's the noodle?" Mouch asked after they had parted.
"Hard as ever," she answered, giving it a solid rap with her knuckles.
"That's-" Mouch started but Shay jumped in instantly.
"That's what he said," she crowed triumphantly and Mouch whacked his knee with his newspaper good-naturedly making the rest of them laugh.
Otis stepped forward holding a large box, wrapped in brightly coloured wrapping paper. "Just a little something from us," he told her, holding it while she ripped the paper free.
"Oh, you guys," she said with a smile as she opened her present before laughing unexpectedly at the contents. She withdrew the red football helmet they'd gotten her and immediately pulled it on, laughing in delight all the while.
"Added protection," Otis joked.
"I love it," she declared.
"Welcome back," Boden said, before disappearing off into his office while the rest of the group slowly dispersed.
"Thanks Chief. Thanks guys."
Shay wandered over to Severide who was sitting against the edge of the table and looked meaningfully between the Chief's retreating back and him.
"I'm going to tell him," he assured her. "Today," he added when she didn't speak just looked at him unimpressed.
"Good."
She'd just pulled off the helmet when Casey appeared next to her and pulled her into a tight hug. They'd been close back when it had been the three of them living together and it had freaked Casey out, getting the call that she was in hospital.
"Don't do that to me again," he murmured into her hair.
After a moment they parted and with a slightly wavering smile and a salute, she assured him, "Wouldn't dream of it."
The bells went off before any of them could say anything further and all companies bar engine were called away to assist the police. They were called right to the edge of the city where skyscrapers gave way to open plains and standing out against the barren landscape was a truck.
"Abandoned truck," the lone officer explained, nodding at the truck as they climbed down to join him. "And there's something funky inside." He was standing way back from the truck, leaning against his car even though the truck was padlocked shut.
"Capp, grab the k-12," Severide instructed as he and Casey stepped forward to investigate and immediately discovered why the officer was standing so far back. Wafting from the truck was a horrible smell so pungent that they didn't even want to think about how bad it had to smell inside. They slowed down and inched closer instead, taking in the truck.
"Texas?" Severide asked the officer, nodding at the plates.
"Yeah," the officer said. "Came back as stolen from a minivan in San Angelo. Wherever the hell that is."
Then Casey heard it. "Everyone quiet," he barked, straining to hear the noise - whatever it was - again. Ignoring the odour he strode closer to the truck, walking up the sound to hear what he thought had been banging from inside again. He knocked against the side of the truck. "Someone in there? Call out!" There was a moment of quiet while Casey just waited and then, barely there but unmistakable, someone knocked back.
There was a murmur of surprise from the others and when Casey turned back the police officer had his hand on his gun.
"I didn't hear that before," he said and he sounded torn between defending himself and assuring them.
While everyone else seemed to be stuck in shock, Severide kicked into action, taking the Hadley's halligan from his slack grip as Capp hadn't returned yet with the k-12 and stepping up to the back of the truck. A few well placed jerks with it and the lock was breaking free, weak from the rust damage and Severide hauled open the door. And immediately stumbled back coughing and choking at the rancid stench that assaulted him.
"Holy hell," he heard Herrmann mutter and when he looked up his heart sank because he could see numerous pairs of feet belonging to corpses. People smuggled into the country who'd been left to die. Severide bit back a curse.
Though looking paler than usual, Casey took action. "Mask up," he ordered to his men, own mask still in hand and pulled it over his face. Severide relayed the command on to his own company and together he and Casey stepped up into the truck.
It was hard to pick through and check the corpses for signs of life. The cold had slowed down decomposition and their faces were still terrifyingly human. Unblinking eyes stared back at them as they stumbled past.
"We have multiple victims," Severide relayed through his radio to the men waiting outside. "Women, men, maybe 15 of them."
"They all look D.O.A.," Casey added. "But we'll need to check vitals."
Dawson and Shay clambered up into the truck to do that, medical masks in place over the lower half of their faces. Not speaking they got to work, checking each and every body while Severide and Casey continued up ahead.
Then Severide's flashlight caught something small and curled up and his heart sunk the rest of the way to his toes even while his stomach twisted and threatened to revolt.
"Dammit," he muttered, bending down to shift the coat bunched up around their face to find that's it was a little girl, dark eyes open and unseeing, mouth flat with fear. He stood quickly and looked away. "There are children here," he said into the radio only because he had to.
Silence greeted him, the only noise being the slight shift as they went on with their work. Then a hand found his in the dark and he allowed himself only a moment to find comfort in Casey's touch before they moved on.
They were nearing the end of the truck and Severide's heart was a dull thud in chest, growing more and more painful at each dead body his eyes skipped over. Then they found her, a pair of eyes that stared back, blinking in confusion. Her breathing was a harsh thing in the stagnant air, as if each breath she drew in was a fight and when his flashlight skipped over her face her eyes were sunken in her skull, her lips were cracked and the bones of her face stood out.
"Hey Dawson!"
Dawson stumbled closer and Severide left them to it, reinvigorated by the discovery to check the rest of the bodies while the paramedics took care of her. But there was no one left to find. Calls were made and ambulances brought in to move the remains to the medical examiner's and final count showed 18 to have been stashed in the back of the truck, the firefighter's having missed a few small children on their first count. The worst, absolute worst was the baby boy barely six months old they'd found curled up against his mother's chest.
The ride back to the house was completely silent, each man to wrapped up in their own thoughts to bother making small talk and all Severide wanted was a pill for his shoulder - because apparently going cold turkey with his shoulder was just stupid so the doctors had him on something new, nothing near as good as the toradol he'd been using but at least it was something - and a nap. But when he got their sleep refused to come and he found himself outside Casey's quarters instead.
"Wanna catch a smoke?" he asked, tapping the cigars against the door frame.
Casey's smiled tiredly but nodded and followed him out the front.
Way back when Severide had been young and stupid, he'd thought he was invincible and had been a smoker. It hadn't been long, his senior year of high school and all through the academy but then he'd graduated and his mother had gotten sick. These things just happen sometimes they told him but he still couldn't help but wonder if he'd somehow contributed to her cancer. Now he just smoked socially, after a particularly bad call or, occasionally, after great sex.
They found a bumper of a truck to lean their asses against and smoked looking out over the street. Everytime Severide blinked he saw the little girl's face all over again, the baby so impossibly small, the little boy clutching his toy car. So many lives ended before they'd really begun. Severide wanted to grab Casey's hand again, grab it and hold tight but this wasn't the back of a dark truck where no one could see, where he could do that and not have to worry about anyone seeing or having to explain. This wasn't a place where Casey wouldn't want an explanation. So they sat and didn't talk and that was enough.
The day passed and Severide still hadn't spoken to Boden. He almost had at lunchtime when they passed each other in the rec room and Severide had turned ready to ask, words on the tip of his tongue, so easy, 'hey chief, can I have a moment?'. But then Boden had turned to him, inexplicably knowing and had asked for him.
"You need something?"
And all Severide had managed was a shake of his head and a slight smile.
But it caught up to him in the slight form of Leslie Shay and her expectant look that afternoon.
"Hey," she said, cornering him on the floor. "How'd it go?"
"With?" he asked, playing for time.
"Boden," she said in that matter-of-fact, 'duh' voice.
"Yeah, no," Severide said and Shay's face tightened so he hurried to explain. "'Cause here's the deal. On the last call, I ripped off that lock like it was bolted on with paper clips. No pain, nothing."
But Shay wasn't having it. "I moved back in because you said you wanted to get healthy. Because you said you would talk to Boden."
"Yeah," Severide muttered and he knew he had to stop running from this. But that didn't change the fact he was scared out of his mind. He swallowed roughly. "I will."
Casey was surprised when Christie called, confirming that he was on shift and asking if she could come see him, saying that she needed to talk to him about something. After the way they'd left things last time, he'd been sure the next time they would speak would be at the parole hearing. If they spoke at all. Still he told her to come round and was apprehensive as he walked into the conference room where his sister was waiting for him.
"What's going on?"
"Have you heard from that Rick character?"
Casey frowned, never having heard the name before. "No. Who is he?"
Christie's mouth twisted and her shoulders raised in a half shrug. "This lawyer," she said, drawing it out dubiously. "Who's working with mum. He asked me about mum's trial and specifically about the house key."
Casey's stomach dropped even as his heart leapt to his throat and started pounding so hard he could feel it in his temple. Fifteen years on and those words still had such an effect over him.
"Well, what about it?" he finally asked when it was clear Christie wasn't going to go on.
"I don't know where he was going with it because I told him that was your business and to talk to you about it."
Casey pressed his lips together in an attempt not to curse. It wasn't his sister's fault, the house key was his business. But Christie must of read the annoyance in his eyes before a hint of an apology shone in her eyes.
"I'm just giving you the heads-up that this guy might be trying to contact you, and it might be about the key."
"Okay," Casey said on a sigh. "I appreciate it."
"I gotta get going." She headed for the door with no further preamble. Casey watched her go with a foreboding sense of dread, wondering if this was how it was always going to be between them.
"Hey, Christie," he said, surprising himself just as she reached the door. She turned with a weary sort of expectation. Casey crossed the room and something in her eyes softened and she met him for a brief hug.
Telling the chief about his injury might just of been on the hardest things Severide had to do. Because Boden had suspected for a while now that something was wrong with Severide and to see the disappointment in his eyes when he realised that his lieutenant had lied to him, Severide just wanted to run.
"The C-5 vertebra," Severide told him.
"Fracture," Boden repeated as though the words were poison in his mouth. Severide knew the feeling.
"That's what the doctor said."
"How long ago was this exam?"
Severide gave him a look. "You don't want to know."
If Severide expected Boden to chew him out over that he was wrong and Boden simply nodded and took it in stride. "Okay. This doctor may be a little eager to get you under the knife," he continued after a moment.
"Yeah?" Severide asked and he hated the hopeful note in his voice.
"Yeah," Boden responded immediately, taking charge in a way that instantly put Severide at ease. "But they're not gonna know anything until they do an M.R.I. We are not gonna go worst-case right now. Gonna let the CFD medical give you a fully informed diagnosis."
Severide sighed in relief and nodded, leaning forward abruptly, elbows braced on his knees. "Chief," he said, mentally preparing himself for what he knew was a long shot. "I don't ask for a lot of favours. But since I feel fine 90% of the time, I'd like to stay on squad while this whole thing runs its course. In the meantime, I'll set up an appointment for after shift. I'll get in there the next opening they got."
Severide knew just from the look on Boden's face that he wasn't going to like the answer.
Casey's head was spinning after his sister's visit, his gut was churning after the mention of the damn house key and he just knew he had to talk it through with someone. One person. He checked Severide's quarters first, then the rec room, the gym and the locker room before he finally caught up with him on the apparatus floor.
"Hey, you got a second? 'Cause I really need to-" His eyes finally took in the leather jacket his friend wore, the bag he had slung over his shoulder, and the carefully blank look he had fixed in place. But Casey caught the glimpse of a simmering cocktail of pain and anger underneath. "What's wrong? What's happened?"
For a second Severide's mouth opened and they both thought he was going to spill. But then he blinked and his mouth snapped shut. He shook his head sharply and then with an apologetic glimmer in his eyes he said, "Sorry, Matt but I just can't right now," and hurried off to his Camaro.
Despite how weird he'd felt about the way they'd left things off, Severide found himself driving to Royce's knowing she was working from home. And despite this being a casual thing he found himself spilling the whole story when he got there, needing an opinion from someone who hadn't been living this for the past months. To her credit, Royce didn't get pissed that he'd been keeping this from her; she just listened and nodded in the right places and let him get it all out.
By the time he was finished they were sitting on the lounge and drinking a glass of wine.
"When's the appointment?" Was all she asked when he fell silent.
"Later today," he sighed, dreading it.
"And how long did the first doctor say that you'd be out?"
"Six months," Severide supplied dully, ignoring the 'to a year' she'd tacked on.
Royce must of heard the resignation in his voice, because her own voice lightened as she touched his elbow gently.
"You know I was a gymnast growing up," she started.
"Knew you must have got your flexibility from somewhere," he said lightly, because as much as he was in a bad mood, she was trying.
"And after I placed in Nationals," she continued pointedly. "I got invited to the Olympic trials. The weekend before I took my bike down to the lake, and this cab door opens up right into my knee," she told him, rolling up her yoga pants to show him the faded scar decorating her knee.
"Ow," Severide murmured, tracing the skin idly.
"But I was up and walking two months later."
"Were you ever a gymnast again?"
Royce's face froze and Severide almost laughed, knowing that wasn't where she'd been going with her story.
"No," she said slowly, before laughing helplessly as Severide cracked a smile. "Probably not the best pep talk I could have given," she conceded. "Let me ask you this. Does being on squad involve having to stick a full twisting double layout?"
"Yes," he told her seriously. "All the time." He grinned again, leaning over to press a quick kiss to her lips just to tell her, he appreciated her efforts.
"Oh, well you're going to be fine," she said, twining her arms around his neck and pressing warm kisses to his throat.
"When are you leaving for Madrid?" he asked, partly because he wanted to know and partly to distract himself.
Royce made a discontent noise against his throat before pulling back to look at him. "Tuesday. I can push it," she offered.
But Severide found himself shaking his head. "No, it's cool. Do your thing."
Royce took him in with knowing eyes. "Tell me you're gonna come visit me."
He'd avoided the question last time but now with his injury the idea was suddenly much more appealing to him and he found himself nodding and saying, "Yes. Once I get my back squared away."
Royce's smile lit up her face and Severide felt a pang of guilt. But she was gone and slithering off the couch to refill their glasses before he could analyse it too closely.
"I'm calling it right now," she said, turning to smile at him. "Two months, max," she promised him before disappearing into the kitchen.
He watched her go with a smile on his face, only to have it drip away without her presence. He didn't know how he could feel so light with Royce but not feel anything deeper. She was beautiful, smart, great to be around and he should be falling for her, dreading the idea of her going to Madrid without him. But all he seemed to be able to care about was the blonde lieutenant he'd left clueless back at the house.
Casey was still wandering around in a daze over the whole Christie thing coupled with the Severide thing and wondering if he should interrogate Boden first or Shay when Cruz showed up. He'd missed roll call that morning and Casey had assumed he wouldn't see him for the next few days.
"Thought you were out for the shift," he remarked, as Cruz fell into step with him.
Cruz glanced around and shrugged. "Well, I resolved things a little bit early. Okay if I jump in?"
"Suit up."
Cruz sped up past him intent on the locker room and Casey noticed the bandage wrapped around his hand.
"What happened to your hand?" he called after Cruz.
He turned slightly and glanced at it as if seeing it for the first time before shaking his head dismissively. "Nothing."
There was something in his eyes that Casey didn't quite believe but Cruz was already gone and the situation with Cruz was a fine line that Casey was treading along all with all the other problems in his life. Besides he had a talk with Boden to get through.
He got distracted however on the way by a frazzled looking Dawson, hanging up on a call in one of the back hallways of the house.
"Rosa's Uncle," Dawson explained even though Casey hadn't asked. "He hasn't been able to get to the hospital to see her."
"She getting deported?"
"I don't know yet. I mean they wouldn't, after everything she's been through?" Dawson asked hopefully.
"Where are her parents?"
"They were in the back of that trailer."
"Oh man," Casey sighed, feeling a swooping sensation of sorrow for the young girl. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Boden walk past, presumably on the way back to his office and Casey refocused on his goal. "Well let me know if I can help in any way," Casey said already moving past her. "I've gotta run, see you, Dawson."
"Oh," he heard her say. "Right, see you."
Casey hurried after Boden, passing Mouch who was holding a large bouquet of flowers for whatever reason. Casey had learnt long ago not to question the things he saw in a firehouse.
Casey tapped on the door frame of Boden's office and waited for his chief to look up from his paperwork and nod before walking in and taking a seat.
"What's going on with Severide?" he asked without any sort of preamble or Boden could ask what he wanted.
Boden's face was as unreadable as stone, neither upset nor happy and giving away absolutely nothing at all.
"That's his business until he chooses to share it with the house," Boden said at last.
Casey waited but Boden didn't yield anything further and he rubbed at his forehead.
"What does that even mean? Is he injured?" Casey's mind flashed to their confrontation in the locker room weeks prior and how he'd left it, convinced that Severide would come to him when he was ready. Now he wished he'd pushed harder. "Is he going on furlough, what?"
But Boden's face remained stubbornly blank. "Call him Casey."
"But what even-"
"Just call him Matt."
Boden didn't use his first name often and it was a testament to just how serious this was. Heart sinking, Casey left his office without another word, hand dipping into his pocket to retrieve his phone before he'd even cleared the doorway. But then the bells were going off and he had to leave his personal problems behind and focus on the call ahead of him.
As it turned out, literally holding another person's life in one's hand was a great distraction from life's problems, as Casey found out. But that didn't mean his problems weren't waiting for him right where he left them at the house when he came back. But hours had passed and he was no longer as eager to get Severide talking as he had been. He had given the other lieutenant to talk to him before he'd left, had asked him what was wrong and he'd said nothing. Confused and conflicted Casey, similarly, did nothing and didn't call him.
Still life went on and he joked with Otis over the hood of the limo they were supposed to be rolling down the driveway. They were having an unusual amount of trouble getting it started however. Barking from the driver's seat, Herrmann, taking some sick sort of pleasure in ordering around his lieutenant, demanded they put their back into it.
"For the love of Pete, my six-year old's got more upper body strength than you two."
"Herrmann," Casey sighed, relaxing his stance. "Is the parking brake on?"
Herrmann looked around slowly and then with eyes cast heavenward he reached down and they felt the release of the parking brake. Casey couldn't help but snort slightly and trade a grin with Otis even as Herrmann started barking orders again.
"Okay, now push."
With the resistance gone it was piece of cake between the two of them and with Herrmann steering to push it down the driveway and onto the curb where Boden had requested it be moved. Still Casey just had to mess with him a little.
"You got it?" he teased as it rolled backward. "You sure?"
"Yeah, ha ha," Herrmann fake-laughed.
"Sorry it didn't work out, man," Otis told Herrmann when they got it in place. Herrmann had been forced to sell the limo after the business deal for his company had gone south.
"Yeah, thanks," Herrmann called back halfheartedly and the pair left him to it, heading back inside.
Cruz was making his way down to meet Casey however and he slowed when he reached him, letting Otis get ahead of him.
"Lieutenant, I just wanted to thank you for helping me get my head straight over that Flaco thing."
Casey jerked around, first glancing over his shoulder at Herrmann who luckily was still engrossed in his limousine and then over Cruz's shoulder at Otis who thankfully was out of earshot.
"Are you back to work?"
"I am."
"Good," Casey bit out with a short nod. "But you and me, we never talk about that again. Not another word. We clear?"
His voice sounded harsh even to his own ears but Casey clenched his jaw and waited for Cruz's reply.
"Yeah. Sorry, Lieutenant."
Casey pressed his lips together tightly, nodded shortly and stepped around Cruz heading out of the cold and back into the house.
Severide couldn't help but look around the examination room he was sitting in and wonder how many careers had been ended right in this room. Wonder how many firefighters had sat where he sat and had had everything they had ever known be ripped away from them. Objectively it was a nice room, dark walls, shiny equipments, artwork on the walls and flowers on the desk but Severide couldn't help but hate it.
A knock at the door pulled him from his morbid thoughts and he was relieved, if not a little surprised to see Royce poke her head around the door.
"Boo," she said with a grin and slipped inside.
"Royce? What are you doing here?" He was happy to see her but the reason she hadn't come with him in the first place was because she'd had work stuff all day.
"Eh," she said, reading his thoughts and waving an unconcerned hand. "I cleared some stuff from my schedule," she explained and leaned in to kiss him hello. "Hi," she murmured.
"Hi."
The doctor arrived back, test results in hand and seemed momentarily surprised to see the sudden addition of Royce to the room but she took it in stride and approached her patient.
"Sorry, didn't realise you had a guest."
Severide hastened to explain. "Dr. Kessman, this is my… girlfriend, Renee." Royce shot him a fondly exasperated look at his stumble and he offered her an apologetic shrug in return. Their relationship had started off a purely physical and while it had developed to something almost like a normal relationship they'd never bothered to put a label on it.
"It's good that you could make it," Kessman said with a brief smile and maybe Severide was reading too much into it but he didn't like the sound of that. Dr. Kessman slid the scan she held into the board and flicked the switch to light it up before turning to address them. "So today's CT scan showed that the hairline fracture on your c-5 here extends further than we thought," she said, tracing the crack with her finger.
"So, surgery?"
"Yeah, as soon as possible," Dr Kessman said unapologetically and idly Severide wondered if doctors were taught to be unfeeling or if that came with years on the job.
He could barely get out the next words around the lump that had suddenly manifested in his throat. "And the recovery time? That's the same? Six months?"
"Unfortunately not," she replied, finally looking away. "Forget whatever you were told before. It's a year at best."
Severide's stomach dropped and he could feel Royce's eyes on his face carefully gauging his reaction. Her hand, felt unbearably hot on his skin as she slid it under the hem of his shirt to comfort him but he couldn't find it in him to flinch away.
"Look, some guys who come in here on the job, they're rolled out in the chair they're going to live in the rest of their lives."
Severide knew she was trying to be comforting but more than anything he wanted her to stop talking as his heart started to pound in his chest and blood roared in his ears. Especially when she said those next words.
"You're lucky."
He didn't fucking feel lucky.
"Everything I see tells me you should make a full recovery," she added, but her voice sounded eerie and far away like she was speaking through glass and all Severide could think about was the suffocating feeling of a year doing nothing.
"A year?" he finally managed, disbelief colouring his tone.
Kessman's lips twisted and Severide instantly regretted asking the question because he just knew that whatever she had to say was going to destroy him.
He wasn't wrong.
"A year if you hope to return to squad. I'll be honest, I've never seen anyone return to full duty after this surgery."
And his world shattered around him.
The shift went on, day turning into night and there was no word on Severide. Shay and Boden were both being tight-lipped about the situation and dodging Casey's questions and no one else had a clue why the lieutenant had disappeared. Inevitably, Casey was realising that he would have to call the man, whether he wanted to talk or not. He had his phone out of his pocket and in his hand and was a second away from dialling when the bells went off and so with a sigh he shoved it back into his pocket and set about getting ready.
"Ambulance 61, Truck 81, pulmonary distress."
It wasn't a fire they were called to but rather crowd control at the nearby local high school where the basketball coach was in pulmonary distress, his team gathered nervously around him. Shay and Dawson got him seated on the floor and where attaching electrodes to his chest while Casey's truck company made a loose ring around them to make sure they had enough room.
"It usually doesn't take this long to go back to normal," he was telling the paramedics while the teenagers shifted uneasily behind the firefighters.
"Sir, when you're in this kind of pain, you can't just ignore it and hope it goes away," Shay told him while she took his blood pressure.
"Yeah I know, but I hate going to see the doctor. My health care plan's a joke."
"Yeah, we work for the city too, coach," Dawson put in. "You're preaching to the choir."
The coach took in a sharp breath of pain and an odd look crossed his face.
"Shay," Casey called warningly and both paramedics heads shot up to look at the patient.
"Travis?"
"Heart rate is at 185," Dawson said, checking the monitor. "He's in v-tach."
"BP's 70 over 50," Shay added. "We don't have time for the drive," she decided and ripped the cuff free. "We gotta do this here. All right, Travis, change of plans, we're gonna need you to lie down, all right?" Shay said calmly as Dawson lead him to lie back on the floor. "I'm just going to start an IV. So I need you to stay as still as possible, all right?"
"Why? What's happening?"
"Well," Dawson said, taking a pair of scissors to the coach's shirt. "We gotta get you back into rhythm. We're just gonna apply some electricity to your heart."
"Woah, woah, woah," Travis protested even as the paramedics continued to move around him. "You're gonna shock me? I don't know, what, is that gonna hurt?"
"A lot less than the full cardiac arrest you're about to have," Shay assured him. "You just have to trust us, Travis."
Dawson slapped the pads into place and Shay pushed the diazepam.
"Shocking at 100. Stand back. Clear."
The women leaned back on their heels as a jolt rocked through the coach's body and he cried out.
"Oh God," he groaned but took a breath of relief. "It's done, it's done."
But Casey knew it wasn't; the monitor hadn't yet settled back into a normal rhythm and he just knew they were going to have to go again. The team behind him pressed closer to check on their coach.
"We gotta do it again, Travis," Shay told him, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You have a stubborn heart."
"Come on," he groaned. "There's gotta be something else you can do."
"This is it, Travis, we have to."
"You heard coach he said he didn't want it!"
They all ignored the teenagers shout and Dawson and Shay kicked into action before Travis could anticipate it.
"Shocking at 200. Stand back. Clear."
Travis' whole body jerked with the shock this time and Casey grimaced because the monitor's unsteady rhythm still hadn't settled and he could see Shay and Dawson gearing up to go again. Even as Travis pleaded with them between them Shay and Dawson conferred and then with a nod they set to go again.
"One more time," Shay told Travis, apology slipping into her calm composure.
"Come on, I can hold on. Just get me to the hospital."
"Travis, I'm sorry," Dawon broke in. "You just gotta trust us, okay?"
They waited for him to nod before going again.
"Okay, shocking at 300. Stand back. Clear."
Finally the rapid beeping of the monitor changed as the enormous shudder racked the coach's body. But it didn't settle back into normal rhythm as they were hoping but into the erie steady and drawn-out sound of a flatline. Fighting back curses the paramedics burst into actions, calling Otis in to do chest compressions while they handled everything else. The restlessness in the teenagers behind them kicked up a notch as they picked up on the change. The same kid from before pushed past and strode up to get a better look.
"Coach! Is he all right?!"
"Woah," Mills said, putting a hand to the kid's chest and nudging him backwards. Casey moved in to handle the situation.
"You're killing him!" the kid yelled at Dawson and Shay, mindless of Mills.
"Hey, step back, man," Mills said, stepping between the kid and his coach. "Hey, you hear me? Move back!"
"Mills!" Casey barked, fearing an escalation. "Back off." Mills looked at him incredulously but Casey didn't step down. "The kid just wants to know what's going on."
Down on the ground Shay and Dawson shocked the man one more time and to everyone's relief the man's heart finally fell back into rhythm and the had him up and into the ambulance in no time.
Severide couldn't remember how he got home, had the vaguest memory of the doctor talking about administration and four or five months and then being shuffled into his car. After that everything was an indistinguishable blur until he had woken the next morning to a sleeping Royce beside him and an overwhelming urge to get away from all. Which was how he found himself locking himself in the shower for the better part of an hour. As the hot water slid over his skin, doing nothing to abate the ever present ache in his neck he found himself thinking about it all, his injury, Royce, Casey, always Casey. With a sigh he slammed off the water and dragged himself out of the shower's confines, relieved to see that Royce had disappeared downstairs while he'd been in there.
He padded across his room to the dresser and rifled through it looking for a t-shirt but a glimmer of red and silver on his dresser taunted him into giving up the search. He picked up his CFD badge, not his lieutenants one but his first, the same one that had been pinned to his chest 12 year earlier and a ran a thumb over it's gleaming surface. It meant so many different things to him, courage, honour, loyalty, friendship, service and now a reminder of everything he stood to lose.
A year, he was facing a whole year without it, where Royce would be gone and Casey would be moving on with his life and Severide would be stuck in time, no job, pining after a man who would move on, probably with Dawson if she had anything to say anything about it. And after that year he might never even get that rush of rescue squad back again. The thought was suffocating and Severide found himself yanking open a draw, stuffing the badge in his hand inside and out of sight and slamming the door closed again.
A full month had not yet crawled by but Casey found himself going back to see his mother again at her request, figuring he owed her at least to show up. All memories of their previous fight seemed to have left her because she greeted him with a smile and a hug, either that or she wanted something, Casey thought sardonically.
"My greatest achievement," she said as she wrapped him up in a brief hug. "I'm so proud of you." She always said something to this degree when he came to visit her and Casey never quite knew how to react or feel about it. He busied himself with pulling away from her before the guards got antsy, instead of answering.
"It's good seeing you, mum," he said and took a seat at the table, focussing for the first time on the man who was sitting with her.
"Rick Savrinn," he offered and held out a hand for Casey to shake. "I've heard so many good things about you, Matt."
Casey nodded a greeting.
"So what's going on?" Nancy asked, feigning nonchalance. "How are things?"
"You tell me," Casey shot back instead of answering. "Looks like there's something you guys want to talk about."
"I just want to tell you how grateful I am that you're gonna speak up at the hearing," Nancy said and Casey shifted but didn't respond, still torn on the matter. One on hand he could see the desperation in his mother's eyes but he could almost remember with startling clarity the betrayal in his sister's eyes when he'd told her. "I'm sure you understand."
"Yeah, I do."
"So, I was talking to Rick, and he brought up a really good point. I know it's a difficult subject, but if we could just talk it out, and then we can decide whether or not to bring it up in the hearing."
And that's why he was here.
"The house key," he supplied dully.
Nancy's smile was both desperate and apologetic. "That's right." And maybe she wouldn't force him to talk about it at the hearing but he could also see her desperation for validation, to shift the blame in any way off herself and onto someone, anyone else, even if it was her own son.
"See," Rick said, suddenly speaking up. "I've talk to an attorney and-"
"Wait, you're not an attorney?" Casey broke in, confused. He could see a scolding forming on his mother's lips for being rude and felt suddenly 13 again. But he wasn't 13, he was 30 and his mother had lost all right to parent him a long time ago.
"No," Rick said. "I'm just a friend and advisor to your mum," he continued smiling at Nancy in a way that gave Casey the creeps while Nancy stubbornly avoided either of their eyes.
"I met Rick through the pen pal program," she supplied. "But he has consulted an attorney."
"All right," Casey sighed. "So what about it?"
"Imagine, I'm the parole board, just tell me what happened."
Instantly Casey was transported back fifteen years to a cold, snowing night where he had, after coming back from his dad's house carelessly throwing his keys onto the counter before heading up to bed. He remembered noting absently as he passed that they were gone as he went to open the door in the middle of the night. He remembered perfectly the horror instilled in him as the officers on the case had shown him the same keys that had been found in his mother's possession when she'd turned herself in.
Remembering all this, Casey forced himself to go through it quickly. "I left the key to my dad's house out on the counter. My mum took it and that's how she got into his house at 3:00a.m. And then she shot and killed him."
"And how did that make you feel?" Rick asked and Casey fought the urge to hit him.
"Guilty; every time I replay that day, I wonder if my dad would still be alive if I hadn't been s careless with my key."
"I'll ask you what you were asked 15 years ago. Is there a part of you that left that key out intentionally because you were angry at your dad for the way he was treating you mum, and you wanted him to pay for it?"
Casey's stomach twisted painfully and he couldn't breathe for a second. Then he turned to his mother, eyes hard. "Is this really what you want to hear, mum?"
"No, this is not about blame," Rick broke in, but Casey barely heard him and didn't look away from Nancy, who hadn't spoken and was waiting for him to answer the question. "We're not retrying the case. This is about sympathy for you. And for your mum."
Nancy knew instantly that Rick had made a mistake because Casey was up and leaving. "That's enough," she snapped and stood herself, catching Casey's hand before he could leave. "Sweetheart, just forget I said anything," she begged, and there was the mother he remembered, the one who would never of asked this of him. "You don't have to say anything at that hearing. It's going to be enough for me to just look over and see you face, the one person in this world who's never turned his back on me."
But her words were suffocating him and Casey could feel fury, and anger, and guilt, and sadness surging up inside him and while he was happy to let Rick catch the brunt of it, he knew his mother didn't really deserve it. So he choked out a goodbye and left her to sink back to the table, tears brimming in her eyes. How their positions had been reversed since the last time he had been here, him storming away while Nancy watched.
Thankfully he was outside in the deserted parking lot when te first sob tore from him and he was in his car before any tears fell. He pressed a shaking hand to his eyes while he dragged in ragged breaths and let them out again. He didn't know really why he was crying. Was it frustration at Rick's insensitivity? Was it anger at his mother for letting it go on for that long? Was it guilt that deep down he had caused his father's death? Maybe it was everything at once all bearing down on him.
He dashed furiously at his wet eyes and fumbled for his phone, pulling up his contacts and tapping on the name of the one person he wanted to talk to. But the phone rang out and he was choking out a hysterical laugh because of course after days of agonising over whether to call Severide or not, when he actually did, of course he only got his voicemail.
"Hey, obviously you're not there and I know you're dealing with your own shit or whatever but I just saw my mum again and she brought up the damn house key again, and I don't know, I just need to talk to someone about it? Call me back when you get a chance."
Casey hung up the phone and flung it across the cabin of his truck, the 5 second snippet of Severide's voice telling him to leave a message not enough to make him feel better. He sunk against the cool window and wondered why out of everybody it was always Severide he wanted to talk to in moments like this. It didn't take him long to work it out, but when he did his eyes flew open and he jerked upright, a surprised gasp of breath leaving him.
The next shift started and Casey helped Dawson lie to immigration officers because that was apparently his life now. But it was in the interest of helping a sixteen year old attain refugee status so Casey couldn't bring himself to care much.
The day progressed with no word from Severide and Casey found himself growing more and more embarrassed by the frankly desperate voicemail he had left for his friend. Thankfully he didn't have that much time to brood on it because Boden hauled the truck and squad companies in full gear over to the academy to run a vehicle drill.
Boden had requested the use of Herrmann's limousine which he'd been having trouble selling and in return had offered the entire $800 drill budget. Which was how they found themselves standing in the courtyard of the academy, watching Mills hack away at the bonnet which they'd set fire to.
"Mills!" Boden barked. "Unless you want to get kneecapped, I'd get away from that bumper."
Mills immediately altered his position, so he was standing beside the car rather than in front of it.
"That thing goes up, it's gonna blow like a cannon and take you right with it," Otis put in. Mills doubled his efforts.
"Otis, get a hose in that cab. Keep that fire from making it to the back."
The firefighter and two others hurried off to get the requested hose. As they went Mills finally got the bonnet open.
"C02 on that block," Boden ordered and two men ran in with the fire extinguishers and Cruz and Otis took care of the hose in the back. "Come on, we're losing time."
"And fire's out," Otis announced, as the last of the flames were doused.
"Come on, let's move," Boden continued to bark because they weren't done yet.
The firefighter's descended on the back of the limousine, pulling out the dummies, dressed in prom dresses and tuxes because they were a bunch of sadistic bastards and dragging them onto waiting stretchers and wheeling them away
"And time," Boden announced and Casey hit the stopwatch. He checked the time and showed it to Boden who nodded approvingly. "Not bad, men."
Slowly they all relaxed and most started to wander back to their trucks for a breather. But not Herrmann who took his halligan and swung it at one of the limo's front lights.
"Herrmann," Boden barked and the man turned to him. The obvious question hung in the air.
"First time I have sex in six months and Cindy's pregnant again."
There was a collective groan of sympathy from the house.
"What's that like four kids now?" Otis asked Mouch in an undertone. Mouch grimaced, shook his head and held up five fingers.
Boden considered it for a moment before shrugging. "Carry on then."
Herrmann immediately kicked the front door shut and took out the side mirror with a slam before walking along and methodically smashing in all the windows while the two companies watched the show.
Laughing silently, Casey had to step away when his phone rang. He dug it out of his pocket and stomach swooping at Severide's name on the screen he accepted the call.
"Hey, Matt," Severide said before Casey could say anything.
"Kelly," Casey said in surprise at the odd note to the man's voice. "What's up?"
"Can you just, can you meet me for a drink tomorrow night? I've got to talk to you about something."
"I- yeah sure."
"Thanks, Matt." Again Casey was surprised to hear the relief in Severide's voice but didn't question it as he named a time and a place and they hung up on each other. Mind spinning with possibilities, Casey turned back to the poor limousine.
Worry and fear twisted Casey's stomach and has his heart thudding in his chest as he walked into the bar. He spotted Severide immediately on the stool and headed over to him, catching his eyes when he was halfway. Surprising Casey, he stood when he reached the bar and pulled him into a tight hug.
"So what's going on?" Casey asked when they pulled away and he took the barstool beside Severide and ordered a beer. "Is this about…" he trailed away as his eyes flickered to Severide's neck where he knew he had some sort of injury. "Or are you taking some furlough? What? What's with all the mystery?"
Severide's smile was tight and it didn't reach his eyes. "I'm leaving the CFD."
The words were like a punch to the stomach and he felt winded, physically unable to breathe. "You're messing with me," he finally managed. And god was he hoping it was all a big joke and that any second Severide would grin that mischievous grin like he used to and they would laugh and share a drink and it would just be a joke they forgot about five minutes later.
But Severide didn't smile, he didn't laugh and he didn't tell him it was a joke. He smiled that odd smile, one that made him look older than he was where he usually looked younger than he was and said, "I'm not. The girl I'm dating, Renee," it was the first time he'd said Royce's aloud and it felt odd on his tongue. "She's transferring to Madrid for her job and I'm going to go with her."
If Severide's last statement was a punch to the stomach that left Casey gasping for breath this was like someone had reached into his chest and had ripped out his heart. Because he loved Kelly, was in love with Kelly and he was just mad that it had taken a visit to jail, crying in the parking lot, and a voicemail to realise it.
"And this is what you want? This will make you happy?"
Because at the end of the day he loved Kelly and that's all he wanted for him.
"Yeah, yeah it will."
"Well then, cheers to that, I guess," Casey said offering his glass to Severide even as his heart broke.