Chapter Text
Casey knew it might not the best idea to invite Heather to his place. It was too obvious, the way she “coincidentally” drove by and how she was “missing an earring”, and then bluntly telling him she was having a night off and asking him if they could have dinner. She wanted to pick it up where she left it the night after the academy dinner, when she kissed him in the car, and he had been so dumbstruck he didn’t even pull back.
It was the last thing he wanted. Not even because Heather was the widow of his late best friend. He liked her well enough, but to be honest, they had never been that close. He’d just been polite, taking her to the academy dinner, and he had to admit it had been nice not to have to go there alone. To not be reminded how he constantly fucked up the relationships in his life for one evening.
And of course, he was about to fuck that one up too. That’s why he needed to talk to Heather, somewhere not in passing. He might not be close friends with her, but at this point, it was either drifting apart completely, or maintain at least a friendly enough relationship so they could talk from time to time, and he could still see Andy’s boys. Besides, he thought, it might be a chance to talk to her about Severide. It wasn’t fair she put all the blame on him.
Things between him and Severide were still… rocky. The rift in their friendship was painfully wide and he didn’t know if it would ever close completely again. Come to think of it, Casey did not have any close friends left. Not that he’d ever had much. He’d been the awkward one all through his life, not a lot of people had wanted to befriend him. And he wasn’t exactly a social butterfly who got to know people easily.
With Dawson, the friendship they’d had was fucked up ever since their date-or-not-date at her cousin’s Christmas party. It hadn’t taken her very long to move along with Peter Mills after that. Not that he blamed her, who would wait for someone as messed up as him to sort through his feelings if they could have someone else, someone confident who knew what he wanted and was not afraid to make a move. Worse was the Voight thing, and as much as he wanted to help her brother, Dawson going to Voight, a man who was willing to pay someone to kill him, felt like betrayal. Casey wasn’t sure if he could forgive her for that.
Hallie left him. Well, it had been a mutual decision. And not for the first time. If he was being honest, Hallie and he had never really worked out. He loved her; he truly did, and he liked to think she loved him. But it wasn’t enough to share a life. There was too much keeping them apart, and not least them being from two completely different worlds that never really met.
His mother left without so much as a goodbye. She didn’t say what it was his father had said about him that made her snap. Casey thought it couldn’t have been something she hadn’t heard before; he hadn’t heard before. His father hadn’t exactly been showering him with compliments. It wasn’t the explanation he had hoped for. Somehow, it just felt like she was putting the blame on him.
As for Christie… they were on speaking terms somehow, and he tried, but every time he saw her, there was that hurt, that deep hurt of being abandoned, that hurt of getting the door slammed into his face just because he had a different perspective on things than she did.
All in all, Casey thought, there had to be something really wrong with him if nobody wanted to stay around.
And he felt so damn alone and desperate that he almost gave in to Heather. Because, damn, why can’t we be happy, wasn’t she right?
But he didn’t. Not only because of Andy, like he told her. Because he knew she didn’t really want him. She was alone, and grieving, and looking for some distraction, searching for the fleeting touch of someone’s warmth.
He was tempted to give in because it’s what he was longing for, too.
But he didn’t.
They ate, they talked, they watched a movie. He was relieved they could act normal around each other, there wasn’t too much awkwardness after that kiss.
Heather fell asleep, and he put a blanket over her before he went to bed himself.
Casey thought it had been a nice enough evening. One not spent alone. Heather seemed a bit embarrassed the next morning, but they would be okay.
The feeling of confidence only lasted a short time though. Until Severide appeared at his door, to be precisely. For about two seconds, Casey felt stupidly happy about seeing his friend.
But of course, Heather had to call out in exact that moment. And of course, Severide would get it all wrong.
And maybe saying it’s not what it looks like only made it worse.
There was rage in Severide’s eyes and his short words were cutting, and Casey knew they were back on square one.
It hurt. It hurt so deeply that for a moment, he thought he couldn’t breathe.
Casey honestly didn’t know why he even tried to explain himself. He shouldn’t have to explain anything. If Severide knew him at all, he would know he would never sleep with Heather.
But since when did Kelly Severide give a damn about what he had to say. He assumed, and so it was settled for him, and he didn’t even consider he might assume wrong.
It sure didn’t help Casey’s mood to hear about the plans of pushing Mills to Squad. Hearing both the chief and Severide had it all figured out without even asking him.
But that’s how it worked, wasn’t it. Let the stupid truckies do the hard work of shaping a candidate into a firefighter and then snatch him away for glorious squad. Fine. If he wanted Mills, he could get him. Let’s see how good that would work out, with those two bone-headed know-it-alls. And maybe he was a bit unfair to Mills here, but the young man had an arrogant strike to him, one quite similar to Severide. And Severide would not like him breaking his own record, that much was for sure, and if Casey would bet, he was only pushing Mills because Benny told him not to.
So yes, he was pissed, Casey would admit to that. Still, he did not want the anger to linger between them. He understood Severide would have gotten the wrong impression, and he understood he was hurt and maybe a bit angry about the way Heather treated him ever since Andy died, and he did have reason to. Casey figured it would be best to talk it out, clear the air and not let the anger simmer. That’s why he went looking for Severide on the app floor where the squad lieutenant was changing the blade on the saw.
“Heather Darden and me? We’re just friends. She came over to talk and fell asleep on the couch.”
“Right. Got it.” Severide still sounded pissed, beyond pissed actually, and he took the saw and walked away, obviously not wanting to talk. He followed him, not wanting to leave it at that, wanting to – he didn’t even know.
“I don’t know what you want me to say here.” Why did he have to justify himself? He didn’t do anything wrong.
“I saw what I saw, Casey. Sell your bullshit to someone else, cause I ain’t buying it.”
You did not see anything, he wanted to yell, because how the fuck was he so self-righteous about it? “Can’t imagine you might be wrong about something, can you.” His voice was getting sharp now, too.
“I can imagine a lot of things.” Severide opened a compartment of his rig and put the saw in. “Just not the idea of you whoring around with Andy’s widow.”
Casey just gaped, Severide’s harsh words cutting into his heart, his soul. It wasn’t the worst that everyone was listening in by now – Mouch, Cruz, Tony. Dawson, Shay. Worst was that Severide didn’t even take a second to consider he might be wrong. He assumed, and because he did, his mind was set, and nothing Casey ever said would change that.
“Come on.” It was only half-heartedly, more a frustrated sigh than the try to make him drop it. He knew he wouldn’t. The only thing he could do was walk away.
But Severide wasn’t done. He came behind him, yelling loud enough by now so the rest of the house would hear it too. “Explain to me why Heather barely talks to me, but she’ll sleep with you, even if you’re the guy who put her husband through that window.”
He stopped frozen. He looked back, disbelieving. So, that was what he was thinking. Really thinking, still, after all those months. He was blaming him for Andy. Well, he made it clear from the very first moment, when he punched him to the face right there on the scene. Part of Casey had been hoping it had just been the rage of the moment. All the insults that followed just the hurt of the first weeks of grieving. Part of him had been naïve enough to think Severide wasn’t really blaming him, that it was just the hurt, and his inability to deal, with the loss and with his injury. But none of those were counting as an excuse anymore. It was almost a year. His injury was healed. He wasn’t on drugs. It was just him, Kelly Severide pure and honest.
He was blaming him for Andy’s death. He never stopped thinking it was his, Casey’s, fault.
Casey had no words to say. Something in him broke, and he wasn’t sure if he would have lunged at Severide or just walked away if the shots hadn’t disrupted everything.
Glass was shattering right at his head level, and something hot and burning grazed along his ear. He threw himself to the ground on instinct, some more rapid fired shots following, more glass shattering and raining down on him.
It was only a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity. He heard shouts through the ringing in his ears, then Boden’s voice like through thick fog. “Casey, you okay?”
And all he thought was, great, he’s been within ear shot to have heard all of Severide’s accusations.
Slowly, he scrambled up, mumbling, “I’m fine” out of pure habit. There were glass shards in his hair and embedded in his face, some in his hands too. There was a sharp pain right over his ear, and when he felt over it, there was blood on his fingertips.
Boden grabbed his arm and helped him to his feet, steering him towards the ambo. He tried to brush him off. “I’m fine.” The physical pain was nothing compared to the knife Severide just rammed into him.
“Let them check you.” The chief’s voice left no room for argument. He sat down with blank features, Shay and Dawson fussing around him. Severide lingered in the background for a second, then he walked away.
Of course he did. He’d been a fool to ever think he cared about him. He’d always just tolerated him because for some reason, Andy had liked him. Without Andy, there was no reason for Severide to hide his dislike of him any longer.
“Damn it, Casey, that was a close one.” Dawson let out a nervous chuckle while she inspected the wound on his ear and applied disinfectant. He didn’t answer, just thought why would she care, she was collaborating with the cop who tried to get him killed, and probably still was, who could know that. Voight sure was someone who called in favours, and he would be someone to seek revenge as well, and part of him hated his bitter thoughts, but he couldn’t help them either.
Shay was busy picking glass shards out of his face with forceps, and Boden hovered nearby after he’d called police. Casey just wanted to disappear to his office, to lick the real wound. The one Severide had ripped into his chest and that just wouldn’t stop bleeding, making everything else irrelevant.
Police didn’t have a clue about what was going on. One of them actually brought up Voight, claiming since he had a lot of influence on gang people, it might be his doing. Casey dismissed it, even though he wasn’t so sure. Hearing Voight had a dismissal hearing coming up sure did nothing to lighten the weight on his shoulders. It made him anxious, and he almost called Hallie, because he so desperately wanted to talk to someone, and he didn’t know who else to talk to. But she was somewhere in South America, and the last thing he wanted was to worry her or open up old wounds.
So, he did what he always did, dealing on his own. He and Severide didn’t exchange another word for the rest of shift. Casey did, in fact, not talk to anyone unless he had to during an ongoing call. It just felt to be a better idea to hide behind his walls. It wasn’t as if anyone called him up on it.
The cuts in his face were stinging, and the graze on his ear hurt more than he would like to admit. Dawson was right; it had been a close one. Strangely though, the thought didn’t bother him. Who would miss him anyway if the bullet hadn’t only grazed him? Not Severide, that one was for sure.
Slowly, he walked over the apron, alone. The air was cold and freshly fallen snow crunched under his boots. While he fumbled for the keys of his truck, his eye caught sight of some kids messing around with one of the hydrants across the streets. He thought the scene should tell him something, but his mind was empty, and he drove off. Back to his empty house and his empty life.