So Long, Farewell to You My Friend- Otis
Summary: The reader reflects on some memories of her and Otis.
Pairing: Otis x Reader (platonic)
Word Count: 1,423
Warning(s): angst, mentions medical emergency, medical stuff that may or may not be correct (I tried doing my research please cut me some slack), mentions death, a funeral, etc
a/n: there was a tv show I used to watch all the time as kid called out of the box. And at the end of every episode a man and woman would sing an outro song. I don’t remember the song except for one line, which is the title of this fic.
The wind blew lightly, whipping pieces of her hair in her face. For March, the weather was nice in Chicago, so she decided to read outside. Everyone teased her for her love of reading, but she would brush them off and continue to read the story unfolding on the pages in front of her.
Suddenly, a shadow cast over the pages of the book. Looking up, y/n sees Matt standing there with a dark-haired man. “Hey, Matt. What can I do for you?”
“I just wanted to introduce the new candidate for truck 81. Otis, this is y/n. Y/n this is Otis,”
She stuck her hand out for him to shake. “It’s nice to meet you! But something tells me Otis isn’t actually your name,”
“It’s not. My name is Brian Zvonecek,”
“Are you by any chance Russian?”
“Yeah, I am. How did you know?”
“I know a Russian last name when I see it. That, and I dated a Russian,” She smiled. Otis’ eyes then went to the book she was reading.
“That’s a good book you’re reading,”
“It is! For my new year’s resolution, I challenged myself to try or do something new and this book caught my eye. I normally wouldn’t of read something like this,”
She and Otis continued to talk about her book choice to where they didn’t even notice Matt leaving. Out the corner of her eye, she could see her fellow firefighters looking on. And if y/n knew any better, she knew her co-workers would make bets on how long it would take for one of them to develop romantic feelings for the other. Sadly for them, the two would be nothing more than just friends.
She scrolled through her phone, replying to some texts and casually looking up to see what was playing on the tv. It was a rather quiet and slow shift with very few calls, which meant the people of Chicago were behaving themselves. But then again, it was in the middle of winter and way too cold outside to do anything.
That changed when she heard a call for ambo 61.
Ambo 61 - 2502 Clover street - male, late forties, possible stroke victim
y/n’s ears perked up, “Wait... that’s my parents’ house!”
In a panic, she dialed her mom’s number only for it to go to voicemail. She tried several more times, but her mom never answered. And without thinking of the consequences, she hoped into ambo 61 with Brett and Foster. The whole ride to her house, her knee bounced. Her mind went through the possibilities of her father’s survival rate. He could survive, be fine and make a full recovery. Or he won’t make it, and it would devastate her and her mother.
She didn't want to think about the latter.
Ambo 61 arrived at the brick two story home. Rushing in with Brett and Foster, “MOM?”
“What happened?” She asked her mother, as the two paramedics went to work.
“We were standing here in the kitchen talking and suddenly he complained of having a severe headache. So I went to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom to get the Advil and I came back to him on the floor moving erratically,”
“Was he having any other symptoms?” Foster asked.
“He’s been having some nausea, blurry vision and his left eyelid was kind of droopy,”
The two paramedics looked at each other worriedly. Emily looked at the two women, “We need to load him up and take him to med now or he won’t make it,”
What Foster said sent her mother into a panic. She wept loudly as she grabbed her father’s hand begging for him to hold on. It hurt her to see her mother like this. Her mother and father have been together since high school, getting married shortly after graduating. For several years they struggled to get pregnant. In 1990 they finally conceived and nine months later, she was born.
Arriving at Med, “What do we have?” Connor asked, rushing over with April and another doctor to help. After Brett relayed the information to Connor and the other doctor, a look of dread came across their face. It was as if they knew her father would not make it. And a feeling of sadness washed over her like a blanket, but for her mother’s sake, she remained hopeful.
“We need to take him to the OR STAT,” Connor barked.
“What?! Why” Her mother grabbed Connor’s arm.
Connor pulled her aside, “We believe he’s having a brain aneurysm and time is of the essence,”
“Mom, Connor and the other doctor know what they’re doing. I trust him with dad,” Y/n pulled her mother away from Connor. Connor nodded at her and joined the other nurses. Maggie then directed them to the waiting room.
Taking a seat, her mother wiped her eyes. “I don’t know what I'll do if we lose him, y/n,”
“I don’t know either, mom,” She sat down next to her and stared at the ceiling. When she was six, she remembered going to her first baseball game at Wrigley Field with her father. They had a great time despite the team losing. When she was twelve, she remembers being pulled from school by her mom because her father was shot while on duty. When she turned eighteen, she told her parents she wanted to become a firefighter. Her father genuinely thought she’d follow in his footsteps and become a cop, but supported her decision.
She was so much in her thoughts she didn’t see the door to the waiting room open. Y/n and her mother stood up, “Well?”
“I’m sorry-,” Connor started, but her mom repeatedly hit his chest with her fist.
“YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO SAVE HIM!!”
“You didn’t try hard enough-,”
Y/n grabbed her mom, rocking her back and forth slowly. She wanted to cry, and break down, but she had to be strong for her mother. "Mom, they did everything they could to save dad,”
“I know. It’s just- we made a promise to each other we’d be together forever,”
Y/n looked at Connor, “You tried and that’s all we can ask for,”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Connor said sympathetically before leaving the room.
A week later, she stood in her childhood bedroom, running her hands down the front of her black dress. The last funeral she went to was Shay’s. A sudden knock on the door made her look up.
“No can do my friend,” Otis chuckled, poking his head in the room. “You okay?”
“Honestly? No. I always knew this day would come, but I just didn’t think it would be this soon, you know? I figured I’d have him around to have him walk me down the aisle on my wedding day or have him hold his first grandchild,”
“I don’t know what you’re feeling, but just know that everyone at 51 is there for you,”
Soon, her mother told the pair it was time to go to the funeral. The scene outside brought tears to her eyes. Her family of firehouse 51 were there along with Intelligence who were dressed in their dress blues.
“Y/F/N was one hell of a cop. He used his badge soulfully, always going the extra mile to help people in his community. He made sure justice was served. He was one of us; when one of us goes down, we support one another. That’s what makes a family,”
The funeral was tough, but she’d be forever grateful that she had love and support from everyone.
The bouquet of lilies felt heavy in her hands as she stared at the memorial. She wanted to believe that this was all one big nightmare and that he’d tell her some stupid joke or pull a prank on her or something. It hurt her to see Cruz break down, and all she wanted to do was bring him in her arms and tell him it will be okay.
A hand lightly squeezed her shoulder. She didn’t have to turn around to know it was Cruz. She put her hand over his, “I miss him, Cruz. I miss him a lot,”
“It won’t be the same without him,” She let go of his hand, and bent down to put the flowers down. Her forehead rested on his name, and she whispered, “goodbye for now until we meet again,”
This has been sitting in my drafts since FOREVER. I’m starting to get my drafts cleaned out.
If I started a new series would anyone read it?
