Chapter Text
Chapter Eleven
Gabby signs the paperwork and hands it back to Dr. Emory who ushers them out of the room.
"I need you to wait outside. Don't worry, we'll take good care of him," she says, polite but unyielding. She opens the door, meeting Gabby's eyes when it seems like the other woman wants to argue. "I'll come and get you as soon as the procedure is over and he's settled again."
Casey would hate this, Severide thinks. He'd hate us standing over him, talking about him like he's a piece of furniture or a doll. He's never seen his friend so frail, so damn broken. Taking risks is part of the job and God knows, they've all had their share of injuries, but somehow seeing Casey trapped in a hospital bed is driving it home in a way that makes his chest ache. He's glad they've been asked to leave the room, because he can't stand to see Casey go through any more trauma. Part of him is ashamed about that, thinks that it's cowardly, but the more sensible part knows that Casey wouldn't want them watching. Everyone has limits, and Severide is rapidly reaching his, knows that he needs to hit pause and take a break, even if it's just for a few minutes. He's been holding the house together and he's not ashamed to admit that he needs someone to do that for him.
It feels hypocritical when Casey was blown so far past his limits, thrown over the threshold of pain and fear. The team had been there to catch him and they'll continue to provide support, no matter what. Severide finds his phone in his hand, sends a quick text and sighs.
"We'll go and grab a coffee," he says, and touches Gabby's arm. She's hanging on to Casey's good hand, her other hand wrapped so tightly around the bed rail that her knuckles have gone pale. "Come on, I'm buying."
The dark haired woman doesn't move. "I'm staying," she says firmly, lips pressing together in a tight line as she looks from Severide to the doctor.
Severide opens his mouth to try again, but Dr. Emory beats him to it, covering Gabby's hand with her own. "No, you're not. I know this is your husband, and I know that you're scared but you can't help him by staying. I've done this procedure a thousand times. I can't promise you that nothing will go wrong, but I can promise that I'll do everything in my power to make sure it goes right." She meets Gabby's eyes, her own dark and thoughtful. "I need you to leave now so I can help your husband."
As if roused by the conversation, Casey blinks, face tensing in pain. The fingers on his injured arm flex and he grunts, just barely aware enough to sense the tension in the room. "What's going on?" He grates out, and bites his lip as a wave of agony washes over him. It spikes his heart rate, sends it racing. His body isn't his own anymore; it's made from broken glass, jagged knives, barbed wire that is tearing him into pieces. There's blood in his mouth and suddenly he's freezing, beset by shudders that he can't control. His teeth chatter and he clamps his mouth closed, knowing he can't hold it for long. The lactic acid ache is already building and he gives in with a cry, feeling like he's failing at something that he can't quite grasp. He can't remember a time where his world wasn't drowned in constant pain and it wrenches a sob from him, raw and utterly spent. He needs it to stop, because even in the grey oblivion the drugs give him, the pain is still there, lurking. There's a scream building up behind his teeth and he clamps down savagely on it.
"Out, now." Dr. Emory orders and Severide pulls Gabby away, leading her out of the room. It takes all of his willpower not to turn back when he hears another sob rip out of Casey but if he turns, so will Gabby and that will only prolong his friend's agony so he keeps walking even though every instinct is driving him back.
One of the nurses closes the door and tugs the curtains round but there's a gap and Severide can't help but watch as the nurses lay out the equipment. He sees the size of the needle and blanches, turning away. No, Casey would not want me seeing this, he thinks.
"I should be in there with him," Gabby says. Tears roll down her cheeks and she swipes them away angrily. "He needs me."
"Hey, he's in the best hands. We'd just get in the way," Severide says and sits down on the plastic bench in the hallway. He's exhausted, just wants to sleep for a week and the twinge in his shoulder from an earlier call is slowly turning into a full-blown ache. He feels like a fraud to be complaining about a few bruises when his best friend is broken in a hospital bed, but he knows Casey would understand.
Footsteps in the hallway make him turn, relieved to see Brett and Kidd coming towards them. Brett gathers Gabby into a hug, meeting Severide's eyes over her shoulder. She nods, and leads Gabby towards the small waiting room, leaving Severide alone with Stella.
She kneels in front of him, cupping his face. "You okay?" she asks, and the straightforwardness tips him over the edge.
"No," he says and blinks, somehow not surprised to find his eyes are wet. "No, I don't think I am," he gets out before she pulls him into a hug.
"It's okay, babe. I got you," Stella says, fingers carding through his hair, soothing the tension in his neck.
The spell passes after a couple of minutes and he sits back, wincing at the wet spot on her shirt. "Sorry, didn't mean to go sideways on you."
She sits next to him, wrapping her fingers through his. "It's a circle, remember? We all support each other. You'd do the same for me." She presses a bottle of water into his hand and fishes in her pocket for the ibuprofen stashed in there. "Here, you look like hell. I saw you get clipped today."
"Casey did," Severide says and swallows the tablets with a gulp of water. "He didn't look this bad when he had the head injury. I'm…" he pauses, fingers shredding the label on the bottle, "I'm scared for him, Stella," he admits and the words feel like a betrayal.
Her hand tightens around his in silent support. "Matt's a fighter…" she starts, and he shakes his head.
"The doc was talking about his body rejecting the wires and stuff they put in his hip. How can he fight that?" He's back on the edge, exhaustion and emotions threatening to overwhelm him again.
"I don't know," she says and touches his face, turning his troubled eyes towards her. "I don't know, but the doctors will. We just have to trust them."
She tugs and he turns, lets her pull his head down on her shoulder. He's done all that he can for now and it's time to let others take over. He'll be there when his friend needs him.
Footsteps echo along the hallway again and he glances over, expecting Brett and Gabby, but it's Casey's orthopedic doctor. He nods at them on the way into the room but doesn't stop. They're both on their feet before he can process the movement but the curtains are closed and he can't see anything.
"What do you think is happening?" He asks Stella, rubbing a hand over his mouth.
"Nothing good," she says as the curtains are yanked back. Casey is unconscious again, face shocking pale against his stubble. A sheen of perspiration covers him and there's a catch in his breathing that makes Stella wince.
The doors burst open and the team wheels the bed through. "Where's Gabby?" Dr. Emory asks and Severide shakes his head.
"Our friend took her for coffee. What's going on?" Severide glances at the prone figure "is this because of the epidural?"
"We need to take Matt back to surgery. The rejection issues I spoke of earlier have gotten worse and we need to remove some of the hardware," the orthopedic doc explains. "It's an emergency so we can't wait for Gabby's permission. I'm sorry, I'll update you as soon as I have more news," he says and then they're moving down the hallway, leaving Severide and Stella behind.