Chapter Text
The light in Boden’s office was cold, sharp. The neon flickered slightly, and the constant hum seemed to mark every second, amplifying the silence around Kelly. The walls seemed to close in on him as the minutes passed. The wound in his side throbbed beneath his gray shirt, and the fever blurred his vision intermittently. Every so often a shiver ran down his spine, as if his body was trying to remind him how vulnerable he was, but he couldn’t afford a moment of hesitation.
He had been summoned half an hour earlier to complete the reports on the boat rescue. Boden, punctual as always, was waiting behind his desk, impeccable in posture and in the calm that seemed to swallow every distraction.
- Severide, sit. I want you to fill out the part on the underwater rescue and CPR procedures. Everything must be recorded in detail, for the internal report and for the district. -
Kelly nodded and sat in front of the commander. The simple act of bending over the chair made him flinch slightly: his side protested every movement with stabbing pains that gripped his stomach. His head throbbed, and a shiver of sweat ran down his back. The fabric of his sweat-soaked shirt clung to irritated skin, reminding him of every step of the rescue just completed.
For a moment, as the pen moved across the paper, his mind slipped back: the icy river water, the boat swaying threateningly, the current trying to snatch the rescue away from him. The passengers’ screams, the dull roar of the water, the metallic taste of blood. Everything blended with the physical pain, like an indelible memory that cannot be erased.
Boden didn’t notice, or perhaps pretended not to. He handed him a folder with the forms to fill out.
- I know it’s boring, but after today’s operation, the Safety Office wants every detail. No rush, but I want it complete. -
Kelly nodded again and took the pen. Writing seemed a more arduous task than expected: every time he bent slightly to lean over the desk, his side sent shooting, burning pains. His hands trembled slightly, and his usually perfect handwriting betrayed a slower rhythm. The pen slipped at times, as if the skin under his fingers refused to cooperate.
- Severide? - Boden asked, looking up. - Everything okay? -
Kelly lifted his eyes for a moment. His face was impassive, voice controlled, but inside he felt his heart beating too fast, like a drum he couldn’t stop.
- Yes, Commander. Just… a little tired, nothing serious. -
Boden didn’t seem entirely convinced, but let it go. A minute later, he stepped out for a call, leaving Kelly alone with the documents and his pain.
The silence that followed was almost suffocating: the hum of the neon, the rustle of the pen on paper, and Kelly’s breathing were the only sounds in the small space. The smell of coffee from the hallway machine, mixed with paper and sweat, gave him a sense of reality and yet of disorientation.
As soon as the door closed, Severide leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes for a moment. The makeshift bandage on his side was uncomfortable, pulling on inflamed skin, and every deep breath forced him to stifle a groan. The throbbing in his temples was almost unbearable, and a metallic taste filled his mouth. Sweat ran down his forehead.
“I can’t… help… it hurts…” The inner voice trembled, fragile, insistent, his eyes burning.
“Just a moment… I… I need… a moment of relief… no, I must stay calm… I have to make it… I can’t give up… not here… not now…”
Every breath was a conflict between the body that wanted to give up and the mask that had to remain perfect. The thought of asking for help lingered there, silent and heavy, like a shadow that followed him relentlessly.
It was then that Cruz knocked lightly on the open door and peeked in, bringing the lieutenant back to reality.
Boden said you were here. - Can I come in? -
Severide straightened immediately, erasing any trace of weakness. He put on the usual mask, the controlled smile he had honed over the years.
- Of course. Do you need anything? -
Cruz entered and closed the door behind him. The sound of the latch made the air vibrate slightly.
- No, actually… I thought maybe you could use some help. With all that paperwork, I could lend a hand. -
Kelly raised an eyebrow. His first instinct was to refuse: he had always done everything alone… but exhaustion was crushing him, and Cruz by now knew something was wrong.
- Okay, - he finally said, placing a copy of the form in front of him. - You take the recovery part, I’ll do the CPR. -
Joe sat next to him, silent but reassuring. The soft sound of his pen on the paper was almost therapeutic. After a few minutes, he spoke without looking up:
- You know you don’t have to pretend, right? -
Severide kept writing, jaw clenched, his side burning like a silent warning.
- Pretend what? -
- That you’re fine. I saw how you got up from the table and I know you disappeared to vomit. I know you, Kelly. -
Silence. The neon hum seemed louder, as if the very air reminded him of the effort.
Kelly paused for a moment, then resumed writing slowly.
- I just need to rest, it was an intense operation… it happens. -
Joe nodded, but he wasn’t convinced.
- You’ve always been good at lying to everyone, but not to me. -
Severide looked up at him for a second, feeling his heart race again.
- It’s nothing, Joe. Just a bump. -
- A bump doesn’t make your hands shake and doesn’t make you feel like you need to lie down in the dark. -
A long silence fell between them as they continued filling out the forms, then Cruz spoke quietly:
- If it gets worse… promise me you’ll tell someone, at least me. -
Severide sighed, setting the pen down for a moment, the weight of his body and the mask on his shoulders.
- I promise, - he lied with a weary half-smile.
When Boden returned half an hour later, he found the reports completed, Severide seemingly calm, and Cruz already on his feet, ready to leave.
- All done? - the commander asked.
- Yes, sir, - Kelly replied, rising slowly. Every step was a small calculation: breathe, bend, walk. Every movement cost him more than he wanted to admit.
- Good, good work, Lieutenant. -
Kelly nodded, mask perfect, but as he walked out of the office, his vision began to blur slightly. Each step was more tiring than the last, and the wound beneath his skin throbbed as a constant reminder: the battle wasn’t over yet. The noise of colleagues, the heartbeat, and the hum of the neon blended into a dull background that made him feel lonelier than he had ever felt in the water.