AN: Just because it needs to be said, I don't own Chicago Fire. If I did, well we'd all be watching a completely different show. I should also point out that I let stories write themselves, so who knows where this one will take us. Therefore count on spoilers for all aired episodes, just in case.

Prologue

Pain.

That was the first thing she became aware of. There was a pain that was overwhelming; a pain that was piercing through her. Pain that she had never felt before nor imagined could ever exist.

There was pain. It was consuming. It was disorienting. It was wrong.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, the idea that there should be a bright light nagged at her consciousness. That's what she had always been told at least. In high school they had studied Plato's Myth of Er. In his afterlife there had been two tunnels side by side with judges seated between them. He had been guided through the process and told that he would come back and tell everyone what he had seen. She was apparently not even worth something that simple. Where were her guides? Where was her light? Where was her warmth and comfort?

Maybe it was lost in the midst of all the pain. She coughed. Could it be that she hadn't died after all?

Her lungs burned and the air tasted of smoke and dust. She took a ragged breath. It felt chalky, if that was even a way to describe air. She tried to focus on everything around her, but the air was too thick and had caught in her throat.

Panic set in as she tried desperately to breath normally. At this point, she would have killed to be Er. To be walking in the afterlife where nothing hurt and nothing really mattered. Fuck, she'd even settle for being Dante, forced to wander the nine circles of Hell for an eternity. She'd give anything to be far away from this place and the fire that tore through her like molten blades.

She coughed again and winced, this time at the pain that followed. Nothing felt right.

She blinked a few times; her eyelids felt heavy like they had been caked in cement. The world around her was grey. What wasn't grey - well that was simply dark. A small beam of light filtered through the haze in front of her. This world was disjointed and confusing.

Nothing made sense.

Maybe this is my own personal hell, she thought as she coughed for a third time. Air moved harshly through her lungs again. She raised her hand to slowly wipe at her eyes. God, everything felt like it was on fire. Every small movement caused agony to prickle down nerve endings that were too raw, too exposed. All of her muscles screamed in pain at even this small task. She rubbed roughly at her eyes and blinked again. This time the world snapped roughly into focus. The outskirts remained dark and unfocused, but the objects in the grey became more corporeal.

She shifted and yelped at the feeling of lightning tearing down her left arm. It felt like someone had closed her shoulder in a vice and was tightening it every time she moved. Hot needle-like misery shot down to her fingertips as she forced herself into a sitting position. She carefully cradled her arm closer to her body to keep it safe from any unnecessary jostling.

It was then that she noticed the discomfort radiating from the back of her head. It was distracting and more than a little painful. If she was being honest with herself, it felt like the back of her head had been smashed in with a hammer. Nausea set in as she moved a little too quickly. The world around her swam dangerously like the depths of the sea tossing a small boat. Her eyes closed immediately in a vain attempt to keep her food from coming back up. Air hissed out between her teeth with even the most subtle of movements.

Concussion. That much was obvious. All the signs were pointing to that as a diagnosis. Between the nausea, the radiating pain that moved all over her head every time she took a breath, and the fact that her vision was swimming, it was pretty clear that she had hit her head at some point.

She tried to think back to what had happened to land her in this position with a possibly dislocated shoulder, a concussion and several possibly broken ribs. The only thing she could remember was that they had been called out to a bomb threat on an office building. A twenty-story building needed to be evacuated and Engine 81, Rescue 3, and Ambulance 61 had been dispatched. The police had needed help clearing the building.

Oh God, she thought as the memory of what happened flashed graphically in her mind. The officers on scene reported that EOD had been dispatched, but would take some time in responding. She could tell by looking at the Chief's face that they needed to get the building clear and fast. They didn't have enough people to search, especially with the on scene police officers holding down the perimeter. She had done the math. If the guys worked in pairs to clear the floors and worked from the roof down, it would still take them too long to make sure everyone got out. They needed all the help they could get.

It's all my fault.

She hadn't hesitated to toss on her turnout gear before she barreled head first into the targeted building. It definitely wasn't in the protocol for medics to enter a building before it had been cleared. However, the voices of her colleagues had been enough to push her over the edge. If there actually was a bomb, there was a chance they wouldn't get all the floors cleared in time. That much had been obvious in the desperate tone the guys had taken over the radio. There just weren't enough hands. Images of New York and Oklahoma City flashed through her mind as she charged headlong into the building.

She didn't have to look to know that her partner was right behind her. That was the kind of person she was. Her partner would be there right next to her, no matter what shit she managed to get into. She would follow blindly into danger if it meant that she would be there to back her up. Her partner would be there to pick up the pieces when she royally fucked up.

And fuck up she had.

She coughed again as her eyes scanned the area around her. Concrete and twisted metal looked like odd stalagmites that rose threateningly from the ground. "Shay?" she croaked out as she pushed herself onto her knees.

"Shay! Answer me!" she demanded as she carefully picked her way over the treacherous piles of debris. She tried to focus on finding her partner and not let her mind wander to the events that led up to this exact moment.

She had run into the building and started searching from the basement up. They had been trained for this and they could help. She ignored the chief's voice that crackled over her radio telling her to pull out, to let the boys and the police handle it. She had thought she could get something accomplished even if it meant saving only one person. They had made it to the third floor before a voice cut through the silence telling them all to retreat. The bomb had been located and it was set to go off at any minute.

She tossed a look to her partner, saw the same panic on pale features and then turned to find a way out. She sprinted towards the stairs, praying that they had enough time to get out. She took the stairs two at a time; "Almost there, keep going," she repeated to herself as she forced her feet to go faster.

She felt the air rushing past her before she heard the explosion. It was like everything was being sucked backwards into the very bowels of the building. She knew what was coming and managed one last look at her partner to convey just how fucking sorry she was that she had led them into this. Her partner's eyes softened in understanding and forgiveness before the loudest sound she had ever heard ripped through the building, pierced her ears and ran mercilessly in her mind. The floor they had been standing on suddenly gave out under them and she felt herself falling among bright flashes of light and pulsating forces of sound that threatened to rip her apart.

The last thing she saw was her partner reaching out towards her. She found herself reaching back in a sad attempt to grab hold, to protect her partner from the pain that was heading their way. She saw the pale hand reaching helplessly towards her, and heard a sickening sound before pain erupted everywhere on her body.

Then nothing...

She shook her head slightly, trying to fight the fog and haze that wanted to take over. Shay needed her; she needed her to be alert and ready to go when she finally found the blonde. "Leslie, I swear to God," she murmured. She couldn't help but notice the quiver of fear and panic that ran thickly through her voice. She tried to take a deep breath to steady her nerves. Falling apart now wouldn't help Shay or herself. She needed to stay focused.

A shock of blonde hair caught her attention as her brown eyes scanned the area around her. "Shay!" she shouted as she scrambled the best she could toward the other woman. She dropped to her knees next to her and had to bite back the cry of anguish that threatened to rip from her throat.

This was bad. This was very, very bad.

Everything slowed down as she took in the state of her friend. The first thing she noticed was the large piece of concrete that was laying on Shay's lower half, effectively pinning her in place. The second thing she noticed was the blood.

Blood was something she was used to. She saw it everyday on the ambulance. It was something she understood and knew how to deal with. Except when it was seeping out of her best friend. That was something she was not equipped to deal with.

There was blood everywhere. It was on her, under her, streaking her blonde hair in a way that seemed like it belonged in a cheap horror movie instead of real life. There was just too much blood.

The third thing she noticed as the medic in her scanned for injuries was the piece of rebar that was sticking out of the right side of her chest by her shoulder. She bit back a sob as her shaky hand reached out to feel for any signs of life in her partner. Her fingers pressed firmly against Shay's neck, hoping and praying for the steady thump-thump of her heartbeat.

Don't be dead. Please God, don't be dead, she repeated silently to herself as she waited with bated breath to feel any signs of life from the woman lying prone before her.

I need you to be alive. Please be alive.