A/N: Thank you all so much for your continuous support and I hope you all had a great holiday. This chapter is going to be from Kelly's side, so let me know what you think.

Disclaimer: All I own is Cayson and the plot line.

-Alisabeth


Kelly Severide sighed, checking his watch for what felt like the thousandth time as he fought the urge to scratch at the rough tag in the collar of his neatly pressed dress shirt. Cursing himself for the first time in a long time over thinking with his libido rather than his brain he watched his date for the evening mingle, quickly downing the flute of Champaign he'd been holding for the majority of the time he'd spent travelling through the gallery. Rolling his eyes as Linda walked right by him in favor of smoozing up to her boss, the gallery owner, he averted his attention, shaking his head as he moved onto the next exhibit. A man of classic rock and simple taste he'd have much preferred a trip to a dive bar for burgers, beer and a cover band rather than the upscale finger food and rather boring paintings around him. None of it had accomplished the first thing on his 'checklist' for a date; keeping his attention. Feeling a hand wind around his bicep he glanced away from the supposed masterpiece he'd been trying to analyze, finding that rather than having answers it was giving him a headache. Seeing Linda smiling coquettishly he smirked, hoping that she was going to tell him that it was time to head back to her place.

"I'm so sorry Kelly but I have to be here just a bit longer, my boss needs me to talk to an artist he'd like to put on commission," Linda babbled, causing any sense of hope he'd had of freedom to deflate. "Feel free to check out the new exhibit though, I think it's something you might like." Motioning to a half wall a few yards away she skittered off once more, her heels clicking rapidly on hardwood flooring.

Dammit, if she had not tantalized him with her double D's and her riotous curls he would've been enjoying a brew with the guys. Pinching the bridge of his nose he turned, attempting to locate the so called 'exhibit' that he'd supposedly enjoy. Walking easily across the floor to the area where people were beginning to gather he peered over the heads of most easily, eyes catching the placard with the title on it. "The City's Hero's by Annaliese O'Malley." For once Linda was right, he mused, becoming enraptured by the images hung on 12" x 24" canvas.

The collection was magnificent, the snapshots conveying the work of local firefighters, paramedics, hospitals and police officers. Some artfully done in black and white while others were in full color, they were all taken from behind, all identities kept secret. Chuckling when he saw the one of a police officer perched on the hood of a cruiser in full color, arms crossed and watching traffic, Kelly smiled, stopping suddenly when he saw the last two in the line up. He'd recognize that uniform anywhere, the same uniform he wore whenever he was on shift.

Taken aerially, the first was from a recent fire, Truck 81 parked at an angle where its identification was unreadable, the members of his station appearing remarkably clear despite the distance. It was one from a line up, when the crew was balanced with the hose in hand to fight the flames. Looking closely he found Casey, spotted the flash of brunette ponytail as Dawson ran across the scene pushing a stretcher. In the second was the same building, a firefighter leaving the building with a child in his arms.

"Amazing, aren't they?" questioned a well-dressed man as he sipped at a glass of what smelled like bourbon.

Only capable of nodding Kelly went over the entire collection once again, picking out the people he knew and mentally naming them.

Chuckling the man turned, offering his free hand. "I'm Christopher Valois, Ms.O'Malley's agent. Now tell me, what do you really think?"

Flushing ever so slightly Kelly shrugged. "I'm not really an art person but they are amazing. Ms.O'Malley really captured station 51 at it's finest."

Christopher seemed confused. "How did you know what station she photographed, Ms. O'Malley makes sure to consistently remove any real sign of identification."

Pointing to Matt, the barest hint of face available he grinned. "After years you seem to learn the face of your coworkers and how they move." He paused. "Wait a sec, did you say your name was Valois? Any relation to Cayson?"

Tensing Christopher spun to look at Kelly. "How do you know Cayson?"

Holding up his hands in surrender Kelly frowned. "Whoa, not like that. She's cool, she did the station house a solid, nothing more nothing less. What's she to you?"

"She, has a name. Moreover, she is my sister." Circling like a bird of prey Christopher shook his head. "Hmm, tall and dark like prince charming, you must be Lieutenant Severide."

Curious Kelly raised an eyebrow. "Cayson say anything about me?"

"My son, Tyler. Why should she have?"

"Absolutely no reason man, she's cool though. Definitely a kick ass photographer."

Wide shoulders loosing their tension Christopher agreed. Talking a little bit more about the collection Kelly decided fifteen minutes later that he'd had enough of waiting, and with Cayson on his mind he left forgetting all about why he'd been attracted to the blonde in the first place.