Stuck With Me
After a car accident leaves Y/N in critical condition, Casey anxiously waits by her side as she fights for her life, grappling with his own fears and the weight of everything they've both been through.
Y/N had been on her way to start her shift at Med when it happened. One second, she was slowing for the intersection; the next, the world exploded in shattering glass and screeching metal. The impact sent her car spinning, slamming into a streetlight. Then, nothingness.
Brett and Violet had just finished a call when the dispatch came through—major MVC, driver unconscious, possible entrapment. Their stomachs dropped when they heard the location. They instantly recognized the location, as it was on the route you typically took to get to your shifts at Med.
They arrived to find Y/N trapped, barely conscious, blood pooling from a head wound. She was breathing—but barely, and it was visibly laboured. Violet gets into the passenger seat and starts IV and gets a C-Collar on her. Squad 3 pried the door open, and gently moved her to the gurney. Just as she was settled on the gurney, the monitors shrieked in warning as she flatlined.
“No pulse!” Violet shouted. “Starting compressions!” She jumps on and straddles the gurney as Brett and Severide load it in.
Casey arrived just in time to see them loading Y/N into the rig, Brett delivering a shock with the defibrillator, as Violet sat back on the bench and spoke into her radio. His stomach turned as he saw your body jolt. Matt tried to jump into the back of the ambulance, but Severide held him back before slamming the doors shut, as Cruz got into the cab and gunned it to Med.
En route to Med, Violet is doing compressions, while Brett gets you intubated since you were no longer protecting your airway.
Once they arrive to Med, it is a host of organized chaos
"Female, late 20s, T-boned at high speed—found unresponsive at the scene, GCS 3. Sustained significant chest trauma with suspected cardiac contusion or tension pneumo. Lost pulses as we left the scene—three rounds of epi given, three shocks delivered. Intubated en route, no spontaneous respirations. Six-minute downtime."
“Going to Baghdad” Maggie called out as they rushed past.
As soon as they entered, the trauma room was chaos—beeping monitors, the hurried shuffle of feet, the thud of chest compressions. The team had been working for what felt like an eternity, but nothing was giving. Will, Ethan, and Connor moved in sync, pushing meds, shocking Y/N again and again, trying to pull her back from the brink.
“Pulse?” Connor asked, voice strained, eyes fixed on the monitor.
“Nothing,” Will answered, his voice low but firm.
Connor turns to the defibrillator and starts charging it again.
"Charged to 360! Clear!" Connor shouted, his voice cutting through the noise of the trauma room.
The room fell silent for a moment as Y/N’s body jolted once more, the shock coursing through her.
Seconds ticked by. All three doctors were watching the monitors, when suddenly, the beeping of a faint pulse began to return. Connor’s heart hammered in his chest.
“She's back,” Ethan breathed, exhaling a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
Connor quickly turned his attention back to Y/N, watching her intently.
“We need to get her to the OR,” he said, taking charge, his voice steady and commanding. “I’m not wasting time. Let's move.”
He looked over to Will and Ethan. “You ready?”
Will nodded, already prepping the IV fluids. “Let’s go.”
Severide appeared in the doorway, his face tense with worry, but relief in his eyes. “Is she stable enough to move?”
“For now,” Connor replied, turning to the gurney, adjusting Y/N’s head gently, making sure your airway was secure. “But we’re pushing it. We can’t wait much longer.”
The team was quick to wheel Y/N out of the trauma room, and Connor took point, pushing the gurney with a sense of urgency. He never took his eyes off of her, watching the mechanical rise and fall of her chest from the ventilator and the pulse on the monitor.
“Stay with me, Y/N,” he whispered to himself, though he knew you couldn’t hear him. His breath caught as they reached the hallway, the tension thick in the air.
The OR doors loomed ahead, and the weight of the moment hit him like a ton of bricks. He had no idea what would happen when they got you inside—but he knew one thing for sure: He wasn’t letting you go without a fight.
The team rushed you into the OR, and Connor didn’t hesitate. He followed immediately, calling orders as they moved into the sterile environment.
“Let’s get everything prepped. I’m not losing her,” Connor said, his voice sharp and filled with determination. “She’s strong. We’ve got this.”
In the hall
Casey stood there, numb, watching the love of his life disappear behind the operating room doors.
And then, as they wheeled her past—his vision swam. The world tilted.
Someone called his name. Hands grabbed at him.
Then—nothing.
“Casey!” Severide barely caught him before he hit the floor. He was completely out—limp in Severide’s arms.
Brett rushed for help. Choi arrived within seconds, immediately checking Casey’s vitals. “Pulse is weak—thready. BP’s tanking.”
“Matt, come on,” Severide muttered, shaking him, but he didn’t stir.
Choi pressed his knuckles hard against Casey’s sternum, rubbing roughly.
Nothing.
Another rub.
Casey suddenly gasped, jerking violently. His eyes flew open, wild and unfocused.
Then he fought.
Casey came back swinging. Hands on his arms, voices all around him, his body on fire. He felt trapped—pinned.
“No—get off me!” He thrashed, panic clawing at his chest.
“Hold him down!” Choi barked. “If he doesn’t stop, he’s gonna crash again!”
“Casey, stop!” Severide’s voice cut through the chaos. “You’re safe. You passed out.”
But Casey wasn’t listening. His body was still in fight mode, reacting purely on adrenaline. Choi didn’t hesitate.
“Two milligrams IM Ativan—now.”
A sharp prick in his shoulder. Seconds later, warmth spread through his veins, dragging him under.
The next time he woke, he was in an ER bay, IV now in his arm, nasal cannula delivering oxygen. His head throbbed. His limbs felt like lead.
“Easy, man.” Severide was beside him.
Casey blinked, sluggish. “What…”
“You passed out. Went completely unresponsive. Scared the hell out of all of us.”
Flashes came back—Y/N, the OR, the panic, the blackout.
Casey swallowed hard, noticing the IV in his arm. He reached up to yank the nasal cannula off—
“Don’t even think about it,” Severide warned, standing to place a heavy hand on his best friend’s shoulder.
Casey scowled but relented. “Where’s Y/N?”
Severide hesitated. “Will should be out soon.”
Minutes stretched painfully before Will appeared.
“She made it,” Will said. “Surgery went well. She’s stable.”
Relief hit Casey so hard he nearly choked on it.
Severide wheeled Casey up to her room, IV still hooked up. When they entered, Y/N was just starting to stir. Her eyes fluttered open, hazy with sedation. Her gaze landed on Casey.
She blinked, confusion flickering across her face. “Matt?” Her voice was hoarse from the tube.
“Hey,” Casey rasped, moving closer. “Yeah, I’m here.”
Her eyes drifted to the wheelchair, to the IV still in his arm. Her brows furrowed. “What… what happened?”
Casey hesitated, but Severide filled in the blanks. “Idiot over here passed out in the waiting room when they took you back.”
Y/N’s lips parted in faint surprise. “You—what?”
Casey exhaled. “Guess I didn’t handle it well.”
She gave a soft, tired smile. “You’re stuck with me, Casey.”
His throat tightened as tears started rolling down his face. “Yeah,” he murmured, taking her hand gently. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”
The first few days of your recovery were rough. The pain was unbearable at times, but the exhaustion was worse. Physical therapy was grueling. But Casey never left your side.
Some days, she made progress—sitting up, taking a few steps.
Other days, the setbacks hit hard—pain flaring, dizziness keeping you in bed. Frustration weighed on you, but Casey was always there, steady as ever.
“You got this,” he’d whisper, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
One night, you broke down, tears slipping free. “What if I don’t get back to how I was?”
Casey cupped your face. “You're not alone. We haven’t crossed that bridge yet, but if we do, then we figure it out together.”
Y/N exhaled shakily. Then, she leaned into him.
Because through it all—through the pain, the fear, the uncertainty—one thing remained true.
She wasn’t doing this alone.
And neither was he.
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