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Casey moved on instinct when the bells went off, standing with the other members of his company and striding out of the rec room while they followed. The dispatcher was still listing the various companies of 51 as the doors burst open and they all stepped out onto the app floor. But when the dispatcher finally got to the address of the house fire they were being called to, Casey found that instinct to move, to prepare, to save, shut down, as a familiar address was read out loud.
Memories. Memories of the street he learned to ride a bike on. Memories of the front lawn he’d crept over after staying out with friends past curfew. Memories of a house with hardwood floors, cold rooms, and yelling, always yelling.
The memories flooded through him and with them an icy panic that was unlike anything Casey had ever felt while preparing to run into a burning building.
“Matt-”
A hand grazed the back of his own and he jumped violently, stepping back as he swung around, eyes sizing up the threat-
Severide’s eyes widened with concern and he stepped towards Casey; it was all Casey could do to stand his ground and not concede another step.
Severide’s voice was low, clearly trying not to draw attention from their housemates bustling around them. “Are you-”
Somewhere a truck compartment slammed close and Casey flinched, a memory of raised voices and slammed kitchen cabinets flashing through him.
“Fine,” he managed to say around the bile rising in his throat. “I’m fine.”
“ Matt.”
He swallowed roughly and forced a smile onto his face that he could see Severide didn’t believe for a second.
“Come on, we have to go.”
And Severide couldn’t argue with that, not when their companies were climbing into their respective rigs and clearly wondering what was keeping them. So he let his boyfriend walk away, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach that something was very wrong.
Later Casey wouldn’t remember a single second of the ride to the call; in fact he didn’t even realise they’d arrived until Stella cast him a funny look from the driver’s seat and Gallo’s concerned voice floated in from the back.
“Cap?”
Casey swallowed again and glanced out at the house that was billowing with smoke. That front walk, the feeling of the stone cutting into his knee as he tripped and fell, his father’s angry voice chasing him out of the house. That front door, clicking shut ominously as it trapped him inside. That upstairs window, where he used to sit and look out, waiting for the yelling downstairs to stop.
He closed his eyes, allowing himself a moment to rest his head against the cool glass.
“Okay,” he heard himself say, hoping his company didn’t hear the waver in his voice. “Let’s go.”
Casey was glad when he stepped down from the rig and his legs not only held him but actually carried him over to where Boden and Severide were conferring over the roaring fire and groaning structure.
“-looks old, it won’t hold much longer,” Boden was saying, but Severide only had eyes for Casey, their pale blue hue holding nothing but concern.
“I agree,” Severide said, not looking at Boden. “Squad’s going to take the top floor, Truck okay to take the bottom?”
“Yeah, of course.”
Boden’s eyes cut between them, swift and curious, but all he said was, “Be fast and be careful, you don’t have a lot of time.”
They both moved off and Casey beelined for his company before Severide could voice what was clearly on his mind.
“We’re taking the bottom floor,” he told them when he reached them, already kneeling and preparing their oxygen masks and tanks. “Gallo and Kidd, you take the east side, Mouch with me on the west.
“You got it, Captain.”
They rose and looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to lead them into the house. Casey dragged in a deep breath and turned towards it, resisting the tug of memories and emotions. He had to be focussed, the margin for error in this job was so small and the importance of leaving personal feelings behind had been drilled into them at the academy. He could do this. He could be strong.
He strode up the front walk and the front steps, hesitating only marginally when he reached the heavy wood door. The heat of the day clung to him, reminding him of a night twenty years before when he’d stood in this exact spot, lingering heat of the summer’s day only part of the reason he’d been panting for breath and dripping in sweat. He’d been late, so late, and already anticipating the chewing out that was surely waiting for him inside.
“Captain-?”
Casey kicked out with his foot and the door crumpled into splinters.
They stepped into the entry, already black with smoke. Squad went instantly past, heading for the stairs in the hallway. Severide hesitated for a fraction of a second, foot on the bottom step, head half turned back towards them. But then he climbed up the stairs and out of sight.
Gallo and Stella went next, Gallo heading further down the hall for the dining room in the north eastern corner of the house while the door to the office to their immediate right cracked under Stella’s boot.
That door had always been locked. The family always shut out. It had never been good the few times he’d been called in.
Mouch was staring at him, waiting for him to move, but he was frozen. Frozen like he had been at fifteen years old. Breathing so loud in his ears. The house so still and quiet around him. He’d remembered standing there thinking the house felt like a tomb, for it had felt like there was no life in its dark depths.
How right he’d been.
“Mouch,” he croaked, gesturing with his halligan. “You take the kitchen down the hall.”
“How do you-?”
“Go!”
Mouch’s spine straightened at the order and he turned and followed Gallo down the hall, crouched low and calling out for victims. But Casey barely heard him, slowly making his way towards the arch that opened out into the living area. He stumbled around the corner and found himself amazed at how similar it still looked. The house had seen several owners in the years since Casey had last seen it, and yet the layout was nearly identical. The television on the opposite wall, the love seat angled towards it, the lone armchair with its back towards the entryway.
That had always been his father’s chair.
And someone was sitting in it.
That greying hair was so familiar. Matt had known he’d be here. Waiting. Of course his absence wouldn’t have been missed. His curfew had been hours ago and yet Matt hadn’t been able to bring himself to come home, not putting up a protest when his friends suggested just one more game, just one more game. And now he was going to pay for it.
“I’m sorry.”
The words were a gasp but the figure in the armchair didn’t stir, didn’t react, but Matt wasn’t fooled into thinking he could be asleep. No, he was waiting, waiting to hear what Matt would say next, waiting for Matt to step into the trap he’d set for him.
Excuses, lies, and half-truths swirled around in Matt’s head and he scrabbled desperately for something that would save him from his wrath. Honesty? Would honesty save him? He would always say that he just wanted Matt to be honest with him, that he just wanted the truth. But that was always a lie.
He took a hesitant step forward, then another coming around the armchair that he’d never dared sit in, apologies already spilling from his lips.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-”
He finally faced the armchair head on and that-
That was blood.
So much blood.
So much so much so much blood.
Blood spilling from the wound on his chest.
So much blood.
Blood leaking from the slightly open mouth.
So much blood.
Blood on his hands as he tried to shake him awake.
So much blood.
Blood making the phone slip as he dialled 911.
Blood pooling on the ground, soaking into Matt’s pants as he sunk to his knees, and wrapped his arms around himself, unable to look away from his father’s sightless stare.
“Matt.”
So much so much so much blood.
“Matt.”
So much so much so much blood.
“Matt!”
A thumb digging into the strip of exposed skin at the base of his throat, another hand yanking at his jacket, the agonised voice, they dragged Casey back to the present, back to the fire.
“Matt, please!”
Casey had never seen Severide look so scared, and he wanted to comfort his boyfriend, wanted to reassure him that he was alright, but the words caught in his chest, lodged there with the breath that was struggling to break free.
He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe.
Panic snaked through his insides, insidious and dangerous, and his hand rose without permission to claw at his mask, needing it off, needing to breathe, he just needed to breathe-
“No,” Severide cried, hand leaving his shoulder to circle his wrist. “No, baby, no.”
He yanked desperately at Casey’s turnout jacket and Casey stumbled into him. And if he hadn’t been so concerned by the strangled breaths stuck in his chest, he might have also been worried by the trembling in his legs.
A buzzing started up in Casey’s ears, drowning out the sound of the flames eating away the house, the sound of Severide shouting orders, and Casey wondered if he was dying. He twisted against Severide’s grip, breaths rattling, disoriented and confused, looking back into the living room where his father still sat. But the firefighters sweeping the room didn’t even look in his direction, didn’t seem to notice he was there.
“There- there’s someone-” he fought to get the words out past the pressure in his chest and could barely hear them over the buzzing in his ears. “They need to get-”
“They will, baby, they will. But I need you to come with me.”
“No, they’re not-”
Severide dragged Casey, still gasping for breath, out of the house and they went tripping down the steps. Casey’s legs gave out at some point but Severide didn’t stop until he could dump them both on the grass outside the front gate. The buzzing eased a little as a fresh breeze kissed his face but still his head swam and his breathing strangled.
Brett was by their side in an instant and it took the combined three of them to shove Casey’s mask away from his face, although his shaking hands felt more like a hindrance than a help.
“What happened? Where does it hurt, Casey?” Brett asked, eyes checking him over for injuries while Severide relieved him of his oxygen tank then his turnout jacket.
But it didn’t matter how many layers were peeled away, the weight in his chest was just getting heavier and heavier, harder and harder to breathe past.
“It doesn’t- can’t- can’t breathe- I can’t-”
“What happened?” Boden demanded, appearing over them.
“I don’t know, he was just standing there.”
“-can’t breathe-”
“Just staring into space.”
“Shortness of breath, disorientation, shaking in the extremities.”
“-there was someone-”
“There was no one there, Matt.”
“It’s almost like-”
“Panic attack,” Severide said softly, likely aware of the firefighters milling around knocking out the fire. “He’s having a panic attack.”
Brett went abruptly quiet but Severide didn’t hesitate, moving so he could settle on the grass in front of Casey, not touching but close enough that they could if they wanted to.
“Okay Matt, I need you to sit up as straight as you can and we’re going to breathe slowly together, okay?”
Matt shook his head, clawing at his chest where that damn pressure still weighed him down. “Can’t breathe, can’t breathe-”
“I know, I know. But we’re going to do it together.”
Casey screwed his eyes shut, chest rising and falling sharply under his hand, and all he saw for a second was blood, blood, blood.
“Matt.”
His eyes flashed back open and he found clear blue gazing back at him, steady and comforting. “Together, okay? In, for one… two… three… four… five…”
It felt impossible but Casey forced himself to breathe in against that weight, could only do it because of the warmth in Kelly’s eyes.
“And out for one… two… three… four… five…”
They continued like that until the buzzing in Casey’s ears faded to nothing, his head cleared, and the weight finally disappeared from his chest.
“Fuck,” he muttered, raising a still trembling hand to scrub over his face.
Severide’s hand ran gently over the nape of his neck. “You’re okay, you’re okay,” he murmured into the side of Casey’s face, chasing the words with a light kiss.
“When you’re ready, Matt, we’ll get you up and in the back of the ambulance so I make sure you’re okay.”
Neither Severide nor Casey moved for a moment, Casey with his hand still over his face, Severide cradling his head, then finally, reluctantly they withdrew. Severide and Brett helped to lever Casey to his feet; his legs held him up but he still felt weak as he slowly walked to the back of the ambulance and leaned heavily on Severide as he stepped up into it.
Brett’s check up was quick and thankfully free of prying questions, even though he knew the blonde had to be curious and when she was done, she left with a quiet, “I’ll give you two some time.”
Casey was quiet as she left, as he had been while she’d looked him over, speaking only when he had to answer the few medical questions she had. Severide leaned forward and silently took his hands in his own, stilling the lingering tremors and smoothing his thumbs over the back of them.
“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
Casey slowly looked out the back of the ambo to where he could see what remained of the house, half collapsed and drenched in water from their hoses.
“I grew up here. This is the house where I grew up.”
Severide’s hands tightened on his and he knew without looking that Severide instantly understood what had happened.
“Matt…”
“My bedroom was that front room upstairs.” The room that was now completely gone. “They used to fight in the kitchen and I’d sit on my window ledge because it was the furthest I could get from it all…”
Severide didn’t say anything, sensed he didn’t need to, sensed that Casey needed to get this out.
“The living room… the living was where-”
He couldn’t finish, couldn’t say those words, and he looked back to Severide helplessly.
“It’s okay.” He brought Casey’s hands to his mouth and kissed the back of his knuckles. “It’s okay.”
“I thought I could come back here. I thought I could be strong.”
Severide leaned forward to clutch at Casey’s shoulder, hand sliding restlessly up his neck to trace his face. “ You are strong. You’re the strongest person I know. And I hate that he ever made you feel differently.”
Casey’s head turned to look at the house again, but Severide gently brought him back, gazing into his eyes.
“You don’t have to go back there.”
A sob worked its way free of Casey’s throat and his face crumpled. Severide slid his arms around Casey’s and drew him closer, letting him bury his face in the curve of his throat. He stroked a hand up and down Casey’s back and rocked them slightly.
“It’s okay, Matt. I promise it’s going to be okay. You don’t have to go back there ever again.”