A/N: I don't own Chicago Fire, NBC, or any other known entity. This takes place outside of Chicago, which is why so few of the Chicago characters appear in the story. This is also my first attempt at a Chicago Fire story, so please be kind. There's only 4 chapters, and I've finished writing them already, so updates shouldn't take too long. This is not based on true events, though there are parts to this story that may be true somewhere in the world. I hope you all enjoy this story, and please review. :)

Chapter 1

The phrase, "a routine call," is an oxymoron.

There's nothing routine about what we do. Fighting fires isn't as simple as "putting wet stuff on the red stuff." You put water on an electrical fire, or water on certain chemicals, and you're asking for trouble.

A fire is never a routine call.

Even backing up Ambo isn't routine. I mean, you can get shot at, hit, pinched, kicked… I've seen guys take tire irons and try to chase us away from a victim. You never know what is around the bend, waiting for you.

Even knowing all that, no one is ever prepared to lose someone.

We know we run the risk, on every call, of never coming home. But knowing that doesn't make it easier to deal with the loss. You hope and pray that everyone gets out, and you take every precaution to make sure they do.

Especially when you're the leader.

"It's never easy to be the leader," she acknowledges softly. "Especially when you know you're leading your men into harm's way."

I nod, sighing as I slip further down into my chair.

"What does he think?" she asks gently, nodding toward the bed.

I shrug. "It's kind of a firehouse standard, not to talk about those kinds of things," I explain. "Like saying it's been a quiet shift."

"Oh, I hate it when people do that," she groans. "Because, inevitably, right after someone says that, all hell breaks loose."

I smile lightly.

"That's true in firefighting, too?" she continues.

"I think it's pretty much universal when it comes to public service jobs," I reply.

She smiled to herself. "I had someone once tell me it was a quiet night. Next thing you know, the unit's on fire."

I arch my eyebrows.

She shrugs slightly. "Someone decided to bake store made cookies in the microwave. Didn't turn out so well."

I nod, smiling slightly.

"Though, it was better than any fire drill we'd ever have."

"I've had calls like that," I tell her. "Where workers do most of the rescuing for us. Makes our jobs really easy."

"We try hard."

Her casual demeanor makes her easy to talk to, and almost makes me forget the seriousness of the situation at hand.

She seems to notice this, and puts her hand on top of mine. "Tell me about him," she nudges softly.

I shrug slightly. "He's…" I struggle for a moment, trying to find the right words. "…tough. Tough, but fair. Always looking out for other people. Really cares more about others than himself sometimes. First one in, last one out kind of person. Makes sure his guys, my guys… hell, every guy who's in the firehouse, he always makes sure they are safe before he worries about himself."

"Sounds like a great guy."

I nod again. "He is."

She nods slowly, and I can tell she's wondering what I'm not saying. "You two close?" she asks.

"Depends on the day, I guess," I reply honestly.

She nods again, looking toward the door. "I'll be back, okay?"

"Yeah, sure," I say, watching the bed as she walks out.

I keep watching the monitors, knowing that they aren't telling the whole story. While his heart definitely is beating, he isn't breathing on his own. Intubated. Ventilated. Who knows what's going on in his head.

"You're an idiot," I tell him.

And I know that if he could answer, I would never have said anything. Because he would knock me on my ass for that.

"Sir?" Jackie, another young nurse, says as she walks in.

I look over at her.

"Do you mind stepping out for a few minutes? I have to check him and do a few things."

"Sure," I tell her. As I walk past her, she pats me gently on the arm, and I give her a small smile and nod. I glance back at him as she draws the curtain around him.

"Hang in there, Sev," I say quietly before walking away.