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Chapter Text

The sky above Chicago was leaden, and the sun seemed to have forgotten how to rise. The air was heavy, as if a storm were holding its breath.

Kelly Severide, lieutenant of Barracks 51, parked his motorcycle in front of the building and sat there on two motorcycles for a few seconds, his helmet still on.

He wasn't late; in fact, he was even early. There was nothing unusual about it; it seemed like any other day. And yet...

The lieutenant removed his helmet and hung it on the handlebars, then headed toward the entrance.

As soon as he crossed the threshold, the familiar smell of burnt coffee and floor cleaner gave him that sense of home that only Barracks 51 could offer.

Life in the barracks was already moving like a well-oiled clock: footsteps, stifled laughter, chatter between those finishing their shifts and those starting them.

- Look who woke up with the moon sideways - Herrmann said from the common room, sipping coffee with the air of someone who would never admit he enjoyed working with him.

- Or maybe it’s just his way of saying good morning - Mouch added, sitting on the couch with the newspaper in his hand.

Severide smiled without replying. He headed to his locker and began changing, slipping out of his leather jacket and into his uniform.
He had holed up there, in his quiet corner of the world.

- Hey, Kelly - came the familiar, jovial voice of Matt Casey from behind him. - Are you sulking even before your first coffee? Or did I miss something?-

Severide snorted softly, not out of annoyance, but because he knew Casey wouldn’t give up.
- Nothing, just another morning like any other - he said

Casey leaned against the edge of his locker, crossing his arms.. His gaze was curious, but not intrusive. Casey had that talent, reading you without asking, but never asking stupid questions.

- It doesn’t seem like any other morning, - he said in a neutral tone. - I can feel it too.-

- Like? What do you smell?- Kelly asked.

- Like the smell of trouble. Don’t you smell it?- the blond asked, surprised.

Severide raised an eyebrow but didn’t answer. Actually, he could smell it, but admitting it to Casey would be like naming something he’d rather not know.

At that moment, Cruz arrived, his smile seeming too wide for this time of morning.

- I see someone hasn’t been sleeping,- the lieutenant said, tilting his chin toward him, thus managing to steer the conversation elsewhere.

- You know how it is… when you have a night with Chloe, you don’t need sleep - Cruz replied with a boyish grin.

- Tsk.- As soon as you fall asleep in the truck, I'll take a picture of you and put it in our group - Stella Kidd threatened, walking past him with a cup in her hand after overhearing their conversation. - Official warning! -

- Only if you don't fall asleep before me! - he retorted.

Light laughter filled the locker room, and for a moment Severide felt the knot in his stomach loosen, but it was only a moment.

Something lingered there, under his skin, still bothering him.

- Weird, - he thought. - As if today were the day something breaks.-

He forced the thought to go away.

- Are you okay, really? - Casey asked again, more seriously this time as they were alone again on their way to the common room.

Severide looked him in the eye. For a moment he considered answering, “No, it's not.” But in the end he simply said,
- You know how it is… Mondays.-

Casey shook his head with a half-smile, but didn't press him.

A few minutes later, Boden popped his head out of his office.
- Can you pretend to work, or do I have to remind you that I pay you to do it? - he asked.

- Actually, the city pays us - Mouch retorted, without looking up from the newspaper.

- Then complain to them when I send you into the freezing water - Boden replied, disappearing back into his office.

And almost as if the universe had listened, the internal siren sounded. A sound that erases every thought, every joke, every distraction.

"Squad 3, Ambulance 61... Response! Boat capsized in the Chicago River. Possible missing." It was heard throughout the barracks.

The second the metallic voice came from the speakers, Severide felt his stomach tighten.

No. It wasn't just a bad feeling, it was that feeling. He felt like something could happen, something bad.

But he couldn't just sit there, let a feeling block him, so he pushed it away. He had to do it, he had to take action without wasting time.

- Team 3, Ambulance 61 - Boden announced as he entered. - We’re off right away. -

Severide donned his gear in silence. His movements were automatic, precise. The helmet fit snugly on his head, the fireproof vest tight to his body. He knew what to do. He’d done it a thousand times.
And yet…

Cruz approached.

- Hey, Lieutenant, is everything okay?- he asked.

- Sure. You don’t want me to be the one worrying about you, do you? -

- Never happened, boss. Never will,- Joe said with conviction.

- We’ll see who saves who today - Severide muttered as he climbed into the truck.

Casey climbed in shortly after, sitting across from him. He was the captain and was riding in Truck 81, but right now he was there to help out the team by replacing a member.

- You know if you look like that when we arrive on scene, you’ll scare the divers, right? - he said, trying to joke.

- At least they don’t ask questions - the lieutenant replied.

Casey stared at him for a moment, then nodded.
- Fine. But if anything happens today, you buy me a drink.-

- Only if you survive - Severide replied coldly.

The truck started up with a familiar roar, and the Chicago skyline began to pass by outside the windows. No one was talking anymore. Everyone knew they were heading for something serious.
But only one of them knew he was heading for his fate…

Chapter Text

The rain fell incessantly, turning the Chicago River into a gray, turbulent liquid. The swollen water crashed against the remains of the overturned boat like an unstoppable vice.

The usually placid river had become a raging monster, with high, turbulent waves battering the rocks and scrap metal. Every drop from the sky seemed to make it more menacing, while the wind howled through the buildings and streets of Chicago. The city seemed to breathe with the river, every building and street shrouded in a pall of humidity that made the air heavy, almost unbreathable.

Daylight filtered dimly through the thick clouds, like an omen, a curse that could not be lifted. The sky seemed lower, almost sliding toward the earth, oppressive like a leaden blanket.
The cold crept into the bones, making the body feel like it was fighting against a force too powerful.

The team from Barracks 51 was lined up along the shore, ready to intervene. The water crashed against the dock a few feet away. The wind whipped their skin, wetting it in seconds, but there was no time to think about it. Their faces were tense, focused. Each of them knew they were about to face one of the most difficult situations of their careers.

Severide, his helmet still dripping, raised his visor. He paused for a moment to observe the overturned boat, half submerged, half lying on the water, twisted and deformed. The mass of metal, scarred by the waves, looked like a sleeping beast, ready to strike with invisible claws. The structure was a tangle of beams, sheets of metal, and sharp edges, ready to become death traps. A sheet of metal emerged from the water like the sharp mouth of a predator.

Severide felt the air vibrate under the tension of that scene, and for a moment, time seemed to slow down. His hands gripped the handle of the flashlight, his eyes fixed on that plate, as if he'd sensed the danger before he'd even seen it. Every detail told him something was going to go wrong. He couldn't shake that feeling.

- Be careful, Kelly, - Boden said, his tone low and firm, as the rain slid down his face. - Joe, you go with him. Go in that way. -

Cruz nodded, his wetsuit already taut over his rigid body

. Severide stared at him for a moment. Something didn't seem right: he noticed a slight tremor in his colleague's hands as he adjusted the tank. But there was no time for questions. No one was speaking anymore. The silence was filled with anticipation.

The moment had arrived. The waves seemed to grow bigger every second, as if they wanted to swallow everything, from the dock to the river itself.

- Ready? - Severide asked, his breath short from the chilly air. His heart was pounding, and it wasn't the cold that was causing it. It was the knowledge that, perhaps, they were facing something bigger than themselves.

- Always,- Cruz replied, with a tight smile. His voice was less confident than usual, but he tried to hide the concern.

They dove into the icy water together. The world above instantly faded, replaced by a muffled, claustrophobic reality. The water enveloped them like a cold cloak, every movement slowed, every sound absorbed.

Every breath was an act of resistance to the grip that tightened their lungs. Severide's body froze for a moment, his skin struggling to adjust to the cold, but then he forced himself to move forward, like a gear that, however slow, had to turn.

The darkness was total, but the flashlights on their helmets cast eerie shadows on the sheet metal, reflecting sharp lines of metal emerging from every corner. Every step was a struggle against the current that seemed to want to drag them back. Severide's hands were slippery from fatigue and the cold, his mind was beginning to blur, but Cruz's voice always brought him back to reality.

The lieutenant carefully made his way through the metal sheets. Every heartbeat echoed in the cold water.

Then came the shock. A beam shifted, and a sharp plate struck his left side, propelling him forward with unprecedented force.

The pain was immediate, sharp, like an electric shock, but Severide couldn't stop. He didn't signal anyone; he had to keep going. He paused only for a moment, but it was enough. Blood began to flow from the wound, hidden by the murky water. Yet, inside him, the pain couldn't be ignored.

The water was seeping into the cut, worsening the wound. A wave of nausea gripped his stomach.

His side throbbed blindly, but Severide kept going.

- I have to keep going - he thought.

Every movement became more difficult, the pain unbearable, but he had to stay focused on Cruz.

- Joe? - he called softly, ignoring the pain gripping him.

His voice was weaker than usual, but he advanced toward him.

- I'm fine...- Cruz's voice trembled, then trailed off.

Severide turned, trying to understand.

Cruz was trapped in the wreckage, trying to free himself, but his body was exhausted. His air mask was off, his face pale and anxious. Every second seemed eternal, and Severide's heart pounded as he approached.

- Cruz! - he shouted, swimming toward him.

He ignored the pain in his side, burning like fire beneath his skin. His movements slowed, his vision blurred, but he didn't stop. He had to get him out.

- If I don't do it now, it's over - he repeated to himself.

But time was running out, Cruz was giving out.

- I'll get you out - Severide promised, clenching his teeth.

With a desperate effort, he moved a beam and freed him, but the wound opened wider. He felt a stabbing pain that made him stagger. Blood ran down his leg, mixing with the murky water, but no one could see him.

They surfaced. Cruz was unconscious, breathing shallowly.

After they were rescued on the boat where his colleagues were, Severide placed him supine, ready to intervene.

His hand, already tired, pressed firmly on his chest. He was short of breath, his heart in his throat, but the pain in his side grew with every breath. Each compression was a stab, a knife under his skin. His already injured side burned, but he didn't stop. His exhausted body moved slowly, every movement a test.

- Breathe, damn it! - he muttered, starting the compressions.

Cruz's heart was stopped, breathing almost nonexistent: immediate CPR was needed.

Severide got down on his knees, hands overlapping in the center of his chest, pressing hard and rhythmically, about 100 compressions a minute, allowing his chest to rise between each compression.

The cold air hit him, but he continued. Each compression was a stab in his side, a pain that made him clench his teeth to keep from screaming. Each beat increased the pain, but Severide didn't give up. Every squeeze brought him closer to madness, but he didn't stop. Blood soaked his shirt, mixed with the rain, took his breath away, but he held control. He thought only of Cruz.

He couldn't stop. Every pressure on his chest was a fire beneath his skin. But there was no time. Only his hands pressing, again and again.

The wet skin clung to his uniform, but he didn't think about it.

His side burned, but his strength was greater than the pain. His hands trembled from the cold, but they followed the rhythm. The feeling of Cruz's chest reacting gave him strength. That was all that mattered: that thumping beneath his hands.

Every heave of his chest gave him a glimmer of hope. But the pain in his side was constant, increasingly fierce. Yet it continued. He felt Cruz's heart beating faster. He had to stay lucid. There was no choice. Only to keep going.

After twenty seconds that seemed eternal, Cruz coughed, spat out water, and opened his eyes.

- You did it - Severide said, panting, dropping his back against the boat. Cruz patted him on the shoulder, weak but alive.

- Where the fuck did you take that blow? - Severide smiled slightly, the pain hidden behind his determination.

- Nothing a hero can’t handle. - he said

But deep down, he knew that wound could cost him dearly.

His side throbbed as if the water itself were trapped in his flesh. Every breath was an effort, but that moment shared with Cruz made him feel invincible.

Severide stood up, ignoring the dizziness that was making his vision shake.

- We survived. And it’s not over,- he thought.

The sound of the sirens reached him only then, but to him, it was music of hope.

Chapter Text

The return to the barracks seemed almost unreal, far from the tension and chaos of the river.

It was always a transition. After the adrenaline rush of surgery and the tension of pressure, the silence and routine could almost seem strange.

Severide sensed something was wrong, though he tried to ignore it. The pain in his side throbbed constantly, a dull drum that grew more insistent with every step. His usually confident and purposeful walk was now a slow, almost hesitant pace. His wet shirt clung to his skin, and dried blood was beginning to stain it around the wound.

He tried to keep a straight face as he crossed the threshold of Barracks 51. In his heart, however, he knew he was letting go, partly from the pain, partly from exhaustion and blood loss.

Only Cruz followed him with his gaze, attentive and worried, noticing how Kelly's step was less decisive than usual.

- Kelly, are you okay?? - he asked softly as they approached the locker room.

Severide shook his head but didn't answer. His mind was busy trying to control the pain and nausea that threatened to overwhelm him.

As they headed to their lockers, Tony emerged from the corner of the room, his face as cheerful as ever, unaware of what was happening.

- Hey, Kelly! Great save today, huh?- he called, clapping Severide on the shoulder with his usual energy.. 

Severide raised an eyebrow, with that bitter, cutting half-smile that had become his trademark.

- Great? Just another day of heroes in wetsuits, Tony., - he replied in that biting tone that Cruz knew well and admired.

Tony laughed heartily, clapping him on the shoulder, unaware of the pain his lieutenant was hiding.

- Always modest. Are you okay? You seem... a little off. - he asked him, noticing how strange the lieutenant was.

Severide nodded vaguely, avoiding his colleague's gaze.

- I'm just tired. I'll be back later. - he said walking away

Tony looked at him for a moment longer, but saw nothing but a tired colleague.

- Okay, boss. If you need anything, you know where to find me.. -

Severide nodded, then turned and quickly disappeared into the locker room, leaving Tony with a slightly puzzled and concerned expression shared by Cruz who had witnessed their exchange.

Later, Kelly locked himself in the barracks bathroom. The door clicked shut behind him, and for a moment he remained there, his back pressed against the wood, his eyes closed, his breathing labored.

Every heartbeat was a dull thump against his ribs. His side burned, and not just from the wound: the skin was taut, hot, as if fire were building inside him..

In the silence of the room, he moved with difficulty toward the sink. His hands trembled as he lifted the hem of his T-shirt, now stiff with sweat and dried blood. Each movement drew a strangled groan from him. When he managed to pull it off, the sight of the wound made him stagger.

Severide's breathing became shorter, but he tried not to let it overwhelm him..

He took a tissue from the dispenser, moistened it with cold tap water and with a steady hand began to gently clean the wound.

The pain burned with every movement, but he concentrated on the task at hand, as if caring for that wound were routine, another test to overcome.

Then, he took a small adhesive bandage from his pouch and applied it carefully over the wound, clenching his jaw so as not to let any sign of pain show.

Blood had drawn a brown and black line down his side, and the surrounding area was swollen, dark red, and menacing. It looked worse than he remembered.

Putting on his clean T-shirt, he closed his eyes for a moment and gripped the edge of the sink, his knuckles white from the effort.

- It's nothing. Hold on. Breathe.-
But his own body was betraying him. A sudden shiver ran down his spine.

- I can't give up, - he thought.

He grabbed a tissue and soaked it under cold water, pressing it against the wound. The contact was an explosion of pain. His teeth clenched, his breath caught.

Another wave of nausea rose in his throat.

“You have to get over it. If you give in now, what kind of example are you setting?”

He moved with difficulty toward the sink. His hands shook as he lifted the hem of his shirt, now stiff with sweat and dried blood....

The contact of the wet cloth with the wound was an explosion of pain.
A shiver ran from the base of his neck to his knees. His muscles tensed, as if to fend off the wave, but it was too late.

His mouth suddenly filled with saliva. Thick. Hot.

— No, no... not now. — he thought, gritting his teeth.

He gripped the edge of the sink harder, but his fingers slipped on the damp metal. His breath became short, ragged, and a stomach cramp twisted his insides.

The bitter taste of vomit began to rise. He tried to swallow, to stop it with willpower, but his body no longer listened to his mind.

His throat contracted in a violent spasm. The food—or what was left of it—came up like lava, thick and acidic, burning his windpipe. He bent over the sink just in time, vomiting with a desperate effort. A choking sound filled the room, followed by rasping, labored gasps.

He leaned his forehead against the fogged mirror, his face pale and covered in sweat.
His arms were shaking. His whole body felt like it was about to break.

“If I collapse now...”

He closed his eyes.

“...Who's going to keep the shift going? Who's supporting the others? I can't give up. I can't afford it..”

But the body wasn't listening. And he knew it. ..

Severide rinsed his mouth with cold water, his hands gripping the sink, his breathing short and heavy. His clean T-shirt clung to him, now soaked with sweat. His forehead rested against the mirror, still fogged by the steam and his own breath.

His heartbeat was pounding in his ears.
The nausea had subsided, but that dull emptiness in my stomach remained.
He had lost more control than he expected.

Then he heard the door creak.
A cautious step. Too cautious.

The door opened slowly behind him, making him jump..

- Kelly? -

It was Cruz's calm voice that interrupted that fragile moment. It was low, uncertain, but no less present for that.

Severide spun around, nodding.
He closed his eyes, exasperated with himself.
Not now, Joe. Not here.

— Everything OK. — he muttered, without turning around.

— You don't look exactly "ok", — Cruz replied, approaching slowly. "You have the face of someone who's seen hell and left something behind."

Kelly shook his head, still bent over the sink.

— I'm just tired. The river, the cold... you know how it is. - .

Cruz stopped a foot away from him. He looked around.
He noticed the water splashed everywhere, the towel balled up on the floor... and the faint acrid smell in the air.

— Did you vomit?

Silence.

Severide didn't answer, but the shaking in his hands was enough to confirm it..

— Christ, Kelly... what's happening to you?

Only then did the lieutenant slowly straighten up, carefully avoiding meeting his friend's gaze..

— It's just a moment. It passes.-

— You don't seem like the type for moments., — Cruz said, his tone harsh but subtle. - Not so..-

The lieutenant ran a hand through his hair, revealing the pallor beneath his unshaven beard.

— It happens. Even to the best of us, right? -

Cruz tilted his head, studying him.

— You always say that when your body speaks, you have to listen. So what's it screaming at you, Kelly? -

That sentence hit him more than he admitted.
His jaw tensed. His eyes darkened, as if tired from fighting.

- He's telling me not to bother you,- he cut him off, a forced half-smile. - But I appreciate the visit.-

Cruz didn't laugh. He didn't move.

— If there's something I need to know, will you tell me?-

Silence again.

— Joe... really. Forget it. It's just another day..-

Another moment of tension.

Then Cruz nodded slowly, even though you could tell he wasn't convinced.

— Okay. But if you don't talk... at least don't pretend, not with me.. -

Severide looked at him for a long second. His gaze was hard, but something inside was trembling..

— You never give up, do you? -

— You're my brother, Kelly. I won't let go of you even if you kick me out.-

>

A grimace. A kind of smile.

— Then get the fuck out of my way before I actually do it.-

Cruz took a step back, but didn't turn around right away.

— If you need me, you know where to find me. And if you can't stand... call me. Even just with a look. -

The door closed softly behind him.

Severide stood still for a long moment.
Then he looked at himself in the mirror again.

The reflection didn't lie.

Chapter Text

The day seemed endless.

The lights of the barracks, the buzz of his colleagues, even the patter of rain on the windows: it all sounded distant to Severide, as if there were a veil between him and the rest of the world.

It was as if there was a muffled filter that made everything distant, blurry, unreal, as if he wasn't really there.

The wound beneath the makeshift bandage throbbed in sync with his heartbeat, growing more insistent by the minute.

The pain, initially bearable, was spreading.
The wound burned, the skin tightened, and nausea rose in his stomach like a slow, inexorable wave.

Sitting at the common room table, Kelly tried to concentrate on the newspaper in front of him, but the words were just blurry black smudges.

He couldn't even pretend to pay attention.

The page was an excuse, a cover, a way to avoid having to speak.

He was so tired...

He took a deep breath, too deep.

A sharp cramp in his side made him lean over slightly, his fingers clenching on the edge of the chair.
He felt cold sweat run down between his shoulder blades and his vision blurred for a second.

It wasn't just pain, it was something deeper, more subtle.

It was the unpleasant, frightening sensation that the body was giving way, inch by inch.

Feeling a sickness growing inside him, Kelly leapt to his feet, staggering toward the corridor.

Cruz only caught a glimpse of him. He didn't call out to him. It was pointless: Severide's expression spoke for itself.

The lieutenant reached the bathroom and locked himself in, approaching the sink.

His face, reflected in the mirror, was pale and dull.
He had deep dark circles under his eyes, his forehead shiny with fever.

He looked like someone else, he looked like his father on his worst days, and that shadow in the mirror looked back at him with a tiredness that had nothing to do with the long shift.

He didn't have time to take off his shirt: nausea took over and he vomited in the sink.
Each spasm was a blade cutting into his side from the inside.
He leaned on the edge of the sink with both hands, keeping his head down and breathing heavily.

He knew he was sick, but he ignored the signs, as he always did.

The pain was getting worse and worse, and weakness was beginning to creep into his arms and legs.
The body was sending clear signals, but Kelly silenced them all, one by one.
He had become a master at this.

He stayed there for a few minutes, until he felt stable enough to stand up.

Even just walking seemed to require an amount of energy he no longer possessed.

With slow, uncertain steps, after rinsing his face and cleaning everything up, he left the room and headed straight for his office.

Closing the door behind him, he drew the curtains of the bunk, dropped onto the cot and lay down on his side opposite the wound.

Every movement was calculated, measured, as if the slightest mistake could bring it down.

The darkness enveloped him like a heavy blanket, but it did not comfort him.
It only seemed to increase the pressure on his chest making him feel worse.

His head was throbbing, each beat a dull thump against my temples.
He was shivering, but his body was warm, too warm.
He suspected he had a fever and he was right.

He closed his eyes, trying to let go, just for a few minutes, just to recover a little, just until the world stopped spinning so fast.

Stella was the first to look for him.

The curtain moved slowly and her scent reached him a moment before her voice.

— Hey… are you okay? You've been missing for a while.- churches

Severide didn't open his eyes, not right away.
He didn't want to lie, but he couldn't tell the truth.

- Just a headache, - he said in a low, rough voice.

Stella knelt beside the bed, stroking his arm..

-  Can I stay a while? Bring you something? Keep you company? -

Lui esitò.
Every fiber of his body wanted to give in to that comfort, but he couldn't, he didn't want to.
Vulnerability was a luxury he had never allowed himself, not even with her.

He finally opened his eyes and took her hand in his.

- Stella, everything's fine.... I mean it... I just need some privacy. -

She looked at him for a moment, studying him. She knew when Kelly was lying, and right now he was.

At the same time, however, she respected his silences.

- All right, - she said softly. She kissed him on the forehead and walked away without making a sound.

Kelly closed his eyes again. The darkness was his ally again, but the respite was short-lived.

A few minutes later, the curtain moved again.

- Hey, Superman, - said a familiar voice. - I just saw Capp put ketchup in his coffee thinking it was syrup. Do you want to miss this episode too? -

Matt Casey sat on the edge of the cot, amused.

Severide opened his eyes and made an effort to lift himself up a little.

-  Are you sure it wasn't one of your experiments? -

Matt laughed.

- I swear. This even beats your tuna sandwich with barbecue sauce..-

Kelly grimaced, which looked like a smile, but she couldn't hide the effort.
Sitting down was difficult for him. He couldn't breathe, his forehead was throbbing harder..

Matt glanced at him briefly, but didn't notice the discomfort in the dim light of the room.

- Anyway, if you want to come and see the show, we are missing the official judge.-

- In a minute, - Severide lied. - I'll be there in a minute.-

Matt stood up and patted him lightly on the shoulder.

- Okay, but hurry up or you'll miss the replay with the salsa. -

Severide nodded slightly and when Matt stepped out, he fell back.

The truth was that he couldn't even sit still.
The strength it had taken for him to smile at Casey had cost him too much.
It was all a little theater, a script he had been reciting for years.

His side burned as if the wound was getting worse, his head felt too heavy to hold up, and every breath was a challenge.

He closed his eyes, his chest heaving with difficulty.
The threshold was there, right in front of him, and Kelly continued to ignore it.

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.