Chapter One: Like a House on Fire
Cailin pulled herself reluctantly away from Jeff; turning back to where Matt was still kneeling in front of Gabby, as the intercom crackled to life.
"Are you kidding me?" Cailin yelped as the call came in. "Did she answer? I don't think she answered," she grumbled, "stupid fires."
Clarke couldn't help but laugh at her chagrin. "Sounds like it is just a scrap fire. I am sure they will be back soon enough, trying to steal the Chief and Donna's thunder. In the meantime, more cake for us," he joked.
"Good, because otherwise I am sure Mouch would have devoured it all!" She smiled up at him, standing on tiptoe to give him a quick peck on the cheek before they moved out of the way, knowing the intricate ballet that was about to happen. She let out a groan, "total Chief move, Boden."
"What's that, babe?" Clarke asked after plucking a piece fabric off the Squad truck.
"Boden is going with them, apparently he missed the memo on it being his wedding day," she said, shaking her head until she saw Donna. "Except she seems cool with it, so who am I to judge?"
"I'll keep that in mind," Clarke smirked, trying and failing to remove the fabric from the ladder truck before it drove away.
"It feels really weird to not drink at a wedding," Cailin remarked as they sat at a table after helping 51 take off.
Clarke gave her a smile, "maybe your family would be welcome at more places around town if-oof," he cut off as she playfully punched him. "Nice left hook, de la Hoya. Guess your shoulder is all healed, huh?"
"We shall see," she said, ignoring the twinge of pain she felt overextending it. "Still have to re-qualify and find a department to take me."
She looked so downcast that Clarke pointed over to the table where the bride was sitting with Hermann's wife, Detective Lindsay and the barely recognizable Desk Sergeant from the 2-1. "Why don't you go sit with the cool kids? I think they are passing around a bottle."
Cailin followed his finger, part of her wanting to go join in with the other women, but something stopped her. Moments with Jeff feeling somehow more precious. But, Voight did say he would be willing to give her a chance because of Erin's seal of approval...she was debating what to do when she heard the uptick in radio chatter. Her heart rate increasing before her ears even knew what was happening. It thudded even harder as she watched Connie rush over to adjust the volume.
"Mayday emergency, mayday emergency, house 51 not reporting. Building explosion at 5929 South State Street. Request back up from all available houses. Hazmat hold for instruction, potential chemical hazard on scene."
Clarke and Cailin's eyes met and grew wide, both of them accustomed to always, at least subconsciously, being attuned to radio chatter. Able to hear it when the civilian guests, including the bride, could not. Cailin nodded at Clarke, who already heading for the gear room, knowing his pre-Lieutenant bunker kit still sat inside. She looked over at the table of women, not knowing who had realized what was happening, catching Cindy's panicked filled eyes as she dumped out her purse, searching for her keys. She could tell the woman was trying to not outwardly emote, just like she could also tell the astute Erin had picked up that something was wrong. Cailin strode to the table, her jaw and shoulders set.
"Cindy, why don't you give Trudy here the keys to your minivan," Cailin said, her voice calm, but clearly an order.
"She's barely had a sip," Donna protested, though her voice wavered as she could feel the change in the air.
"Sergeant Platt, why don't you hold on to those for a while, take the women back into the quarters," Erin suggested, gesturing with her head toward the intercom, now incessantly squawking like an injured bird. Platt caught on immediately, taking the keys from a now shaking Cindy and ushering the two women towards the multipurpose room.
Erin and Cailin looked at each other for a long beat, wondering what their roles were in this situation. Cailin felt for Erin, Kelly Severide already out on the call, in a building that had exploded. She spied Clarke out of the corner of her eye; his turnout kit clutched against his more formal clothing made for a stark contrast.
"Affirmative, send hazmat, chemical spill at 5929 South State. Possible meth lab explosion. Requesting additional ambulances as well, 51 still not reporting. Nearest non-active engine is in route."
The words 'meth lab' had Erin pulling out her phone, detective trumping girlfriend. "I'm calling it in," she said, her tone pure steel even as her eyes clouded with worry.
"Fine, but do it from the car, I'm taking us over," Cailin said, taking the keys Clarke handed to her in one hand as she pulled her badge from her bag with the other.
Cailin screeched up, over half a block down and across the street from where the trucks had parked; not even getting the car in park before Clarke was already hopping out. "Damn it, Jeff" she swore, shaking her head as Erin followed suit.
She carefully made her way through the debris littering the landscape, cursing her heels and sundress for impeding her movement. Erin was having the same struggle, not having made it much further ahead.
They both stopped, staring up at the building and surrounding area. It looked like a bomb had gone off, mostly because one had. A giant, toxic, homemade bomb.
Cailin felt her blood turn to ice, but shook it off. Where the hell was Jeff? She caught sight of him, next to Chief Boden and the red SUV. The man bleeding from a cut on his head, covered in ash, a radio gripped so tightly in his palms they had turned pink. The relief chief standing dazedly next to him, shaking his head like he was trying to clear water from his ears.
"THOUGHT IT WAS JUST BECAUSE OF THE CONCRETE AND THEN BOOM, TOP FLOOR BLEW OUT!" the relief chief yelled, not knowing he was doing so.
Cailin charged forward, not realizing she was leaving Detective Lindsay rooted to the spot, just as Clarke was about to jog to the building. "Back-up," Boden croaked, not sounding at all like his usually formidable self. "Wait for back-up," he said, trying desperately to clear his throat.
Cailin spied a bottle of water in the front seat of the SUV, retrieving it and twisting the cap off. "Drink," she said, handing it to him, "agreed," she said, glaring at Clarke.
"Cally, I have to-" Clarke started to say, cut off by the approaching siren. Firefighters were hopping off the engine while it was still rolling, springing immediately into action, Clarke joining in with them as though he were part of their crew.
She clenched her jaw, making the sign of the cross. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Erin practically get mowed down by an approaching ambulance. Cally knew shock had taken over the normally tough-as-nails detective. She traversed back through the debris field back to the car, digging through the trunk. Thankful she hadn't cleaned out her gym clothes from PT. She slipped them on, grabbing extras for Erin. "Hope you have elf feet, Detective," she said tossing the pile at the other woman.
This was enough to at least temporarily kick Erin out of reverie. "You really don't have any clothes actually in your closet, do you, Callahan?" she said, a grim smile on her face as she hastily changed.
It hadn't been more than a couple of minutes, but the scene was already flooded with the next wave of first responders and more than a few looky-loos. Both Cailin and Erin looked around, torn between their training telling them to do crowd control and their emotions wanting an update on the whereabouts of 51.
"Tell Severide to get his and Squad's ass back down here," Boden was barking into a radio, sounding authoritative enough to make both Erin and Cally smile with relief.
A most welcome sight greeted Cailin as she scanned the crowd, that of Gabby and Shay making their way over to 61, slowly, but in one piece. Her heart beating out her profession as she rushed toward her friends. "Gabby, Leslie, thank God," she said, jogging over. "You all right?"
Shay nodded, already pulling out an elastic bandage and wrapping it around Gabby's wrist. "Blast knocked us on our asses, but we're good," she said, panting slightly, looking a bit pale.
Cailin nodded, reaching for a butterfly bandage for the bleeding cut on Gabby's temple. "Your wrist okay, Gabs?"
Gabby nodded, "This one jumped on top of me. So what, I pass my firefighter test so you want to take over my spot on 61 as a paramedic, Callahan?"
"Pretty sure Clarke already called dibs on Shay," Cailin shot back, wiping off the cut and placing the bandage over it. Both women gave a chuckle, looking at Shay, who merely grimaced, continuing to pull out triage supplies.
"Matt!" Gabby said, coming to the realization her significant other had gone in the building before her.
"I don't know, Clarke went in with the crew that got here the same time we pulled up," Cailin said, looking up at the building, before realizing Gabby's eyes were glazing over.
"All right, Dawson, let's get you out of that bunker jacket, you too, Shay," Cailin said, helping Gabby out of her coat, trying to get the women more air.
Shay shook her head, heading to the supplies, "I'm going to go check on the Chief," Shay said, grabbing a kit and heading toward the SUV.
Cailin watched as Boden tried to brush Shay off, the blonde forcing him to sit on the curb and be checked out. She watched as Erin transformed firmly back into Detective Lindsay, ordering the crowd to back up, flashing her badge and all but growling. Cailin turned her head back to the building, a hive of buzzing activity with hoses being run, ladders being raised and firefighters dashing to and fro.
It was hard to keep track of everything, until she saw familiar faces start to emerge from the wreckage: a limping Mouch, cradling his shoulder followed by Hermann and Clarke carrying a larger form, between them. "Anyone ever tell you to cut back on the carbs, Cruz?" Hermann was yelling as he and Clarke maneuvered the man to a waiting ambo, his leg clearly broken.
Cally made a face, but pulled herself together as she saw Gabby rush toward the group, yelling for Matt. "Piece of crap staircase came down as soon as the building shook," Hermann said, "Casey and Otis were already down in the basement, Truck 36 is roping them up now. We stopped for some drunk as a skunk homeless guy when it gave out. We had to pull tons of fun here from where he was dangling."
"Which is how I tweaked my shoulder," Mouch said.
"How did Cruz break his leg then?" Cailin asked as Gabby wavered with relief, Clarke reaching out to steady her.
"Homeless guy came to swinging a stickball bat," Cruz said through gritted teeth, "and I am not fat, I'm big-"
His statement cut off by another blast, two more floors of the building exploding outward, a fireball following. This set off another flurry of activity, Clarke and Hermann jumping back into action and turning back toward the building.
"Don't be too much of a cowboy in there, Jeff," Cailin warned, catching the hem of his turnout coat before he could run back into the building.
He turned, giving her a quick kiss; harkening back to the scene where he had rescued her, "not my first rodeo, babe," he said, before putting his mask and helmet on and charging toward the building.
Cailin realized Erin had made her way around the perimeter and was standing next to her. "You're just going to let him go back in there?" she asked, shaking like a leaf, looking incredibly pale.
"He has to go, Erin. How many times do we have to go into the undercover equivalent of a burning building?" Cally replied, before realizing that the woman wasn't able to focus on her; a look she had seen on her own face more than once. Detective Lindsay was in the firm grip of a panic attack.
"Jeff is going in there because he is one of the best and he is not going to leave one of his own behind. Kelly is one of his own," Cally said before gently reaching out and lightly putting a hand on the other woman's shoulders. She found herself echoing the words Jeff had used with her. "Everything is going to be fine, you just have to let yourself breathe. That's it. Nice and easy, slow breaths, stop thinking about it, it's a reflex, remember?"
Erin finally caught her breath, gulping greedily at the oxygen, wrenching herself out of Cailin's grasp. "I'm fine," she snapped, not wanting to admit to how close she had come to fainting. Cops didn't faint. She sure as hell didn't faint.
Cailin gave her a look that told her she wasn't fooled for a second, but there was also something so empathetic in the woman's blue eyes, Erin felt herself soften just the slightest bit until terror caught her in its vice-grip once again.
Catching the fear creep back up into Erin's eyes made Cally even more grateful for the arrival of Voight and Halstead, Dawson with them. "Come on," she said, trying to not drag Erin with her in the direction of the other IU detectives. She gave Halstead a look, before raising her eyebrows at Voight and jerking her head in Erin's direction. She could tell the other woman was desperately trying to keep it together, put on her usual tough face. Cally was perfectly aware of how much energy that took, how easily the façade could crumble. Like it was threatening to do with Antonio Dawson.
"Gabby's fine. She's over by 61. She and Shay are refusing to budge, they walked out on their own," Cailin explained, wondering how she was managing to hold it together before realizing she had once again managed to separate herself completely from her emotions. It would catch up to her later, but for now the silent serpent of PTSD was actually slithering in her favor for once.
Everything seemed to speed up as the newest fireball raced through the building, noxious smoke pouring out of every window, filling the street with its burning toxicity. Cailin felt her eyes burning, knowing the myriad of chemicals that went into making meth were now being unleashed into the atmosphere. It was then Hermann and another firefighter emerged, carrying out one of their own. But unlike Joe Cruz, this figure wasn't joking with his rescuers; this one was gasping like a fish out of water between the two men trying to carry him to safety. It took Cailin a moment to recognize who it was, and when she did, her heart stopped.
"Crap. Matt! We need a medic over here, stat!" she bellowed, taking in her friend more collapsing than being sat down.
The paramedics swarmed, jumping into action and shoving them out-of-the-way. Cailin looked from face to face to see if Gabby was one of them. She wasn't, but a very pale and shaking Shay was. "I got this," she said to Cailin before turning to bark orders at her fellow paramedic. "Get him on the ambo now. Call ahead to Lakeshore; tell them we need the best pulmo doc in all of Chicago. Cally, get Antonio to have Gabby meet us there."
Before she could even nod in compliance, Shay was already following the stretcher into the ambulance, trying not to wince in pain. Cailin took a halting breath, forcing herself to focus on calmly telling her friend her maybe fiancée was on his way to Lakeshore. In between wrangling Antonio and gently breaking the news to Gabby, Cally missed another familiar figure also being carried out the building until her eyes met Clarke's over another stretcher.
"We got you, buddy, you're going to be fine and you can play me all the pod-things you want," Hermann was saying, gripping the hand of Otis, his leg at an unnatural angle. Brian, Cailin corrected in her head, injured in the line of duty, she should respect him enough to call him by his name. "Can you call Cindy and tell her to meet me at Lakeshore, I'm going with him," he said, looking grave.
"Will do," Cailin said, pulling out her phone, though she didn't dial, looking at Clarke, who was wiping off his sweaty, smoke-covered face. "What happened to Matt, Jeff?"
"They were pulling him up when the second blast happened, knocked his mask off and they pulled him right through the fire ball. He's got at least second degree burns and took a lungful of whatever the hell is in that," he replied, gesturing to the ominous cloud hovering over them.
"Crap. What about Squad?" she asked, looking around for Erin, who was deep in conversation with Voight and the rest of the assembled IU.
"Trapped between floors. Apparently there were multiple labs; main one was up top, the first to blow. They can't get up to the roof without going through hell and the staircase is gone below them. They are working on getting ladders inside and up now," Clarke said.
The pair stood, looking up at the building, frozen as they saw the smoke gather and change into a monster before their eyes; knowing what was going to happen right before it did, another explosion blasting out another floor of the building. The one Squad was trapped on...
Chapter Two: Raging Inferno
Smoke, debris and flames came roaring out of the structure; reaching out to pull anyone or thing into its malicious embrace. Cailin, Clarke and anyone standing close to the building thrown back as the concussive energy radiated out of the building. Immediately all chiefs on scene started yelling for everyone to move back and for their crews to stand down. Cally heard the buzzing in her ears, though she wasn't sure if it was from the shock wave or from an impending panic attack; her psychic armor finally falling away. It was only after Clarke hauled her to her feet, cradling her face in his hands as he kept asking if she was okay that she realized it was from the blast. Finally she nodded, pointing to her ears; unlike his, they hadn't been protected by gear.
Clarke saw the beast growing before him, seeing it draw back before its venomous strike. He had worked meth lab scenes before, knew how bad they could be and after being in the building he could confirm that this operation seemed a contradictory mix of volume and disorganization. Quantity over quality, to say the least. He was already tensing as the supersonic wall of air passed over them, knocking them both back. Smaller, lighter and unburdened by gear, Cally knocked further back. Her unmoving heap made his blood turn to ice, though she quickly started coming to. He shook himself off, simultaneously reaching down to pull her to his feet, asking if she was all right. She didn't answer right away, looking at him as though he were speaking an alien language. He worried that her recent concussion had made her vulnerable to a more severe injury. His dirty palms found her face, leaving their mark as he continued questioning her. A long moment passed before she nodded, pointing at her ears. Clarke realized she didn't have the benefit of protective gear and her eardrums had probably taken a good hit.
"Let's get you back away from here," he said, fighting the urge to wrap her up in his arms and keep her pressed against him. He knew he had to get back in that building, men still trapped inside. HIS men. But first, he had to get his girl to safety. She nodded again, still slightly dazed, shaking her head, desperately trying to stop the ringing. He guided her by her elbow, depositing her next to a vaguely familiar looking paramedic. "Can you check her ears?" he asked the woman.
"I'm fine, Jeff," she said, realizing she was probably yelling like the first relief chief had been when they first pulled up. "Really," she said, forcing herself to lower her voice. She could still hear; it was just like she was underwater. She could hear enough to pickup on the fact that every CO in the vicinity had called for his crew to stand down; and judging from the firefighters hauling ass away from the building, most were complying. Giving the noxious cloud pouring out of the building she didn't blame them, not to mention more than one of them looked like their gear was melting to them. She waved off the same paramedic that had packed her wounds after the shooting, "they need you more," she said.
The words dove straight into her heart and gut as soon as she said them, her blue eyes locking on familiar sea glass ones. Hell, she had said it to Erin not that long before. He had to go back in. For his men, trapped in the inferno raging before him. She knew despite his military training he was going to ignore the command from the COs, or maybe because of his military experience; he would not leave a man behind. Honor, courage, commitment; they made up his core, his essence.
Clarke's eyes met Cally's, seeking comfort and maybe acceptance in their sky-blue depths. He could see the change in them, as her words sunk in. His heart caught in his throat for a moment; he knew he was going back in that building, he didn't want her opposition. But the clouds quickly cleared, leaving behind a beacon of light. She gave a single, resolute nod. "I love you, Cally, always," he said, pressing his lips briefly to her hers; picking up his mask as he jogged back toward the building, ignoring the protests from the COs.
"See you around, Clarke," Cailin called, fervently praying it was the truth.
It looked like a war zone. If the war had taken place on the surface of the sun behind a solar flare. Everything engulfed in flames and pitch-black at the same time. What objects Clarke could make out melted into indistinguishable lumps. The blast had brought down more than just what remained of the staircase. The need for ladders to rescue Squad nullified. Mills and Capp were struggling to stand, both looking dazed as they tried to make sense of what had just happened. Their turnout gear looked like it was peppered with gunfire, including a particularly nasty piece of metal embedded into Capp's upper arm. Mills had an actively bleeding head wound, discovering it about the same time Clarke did, the younger man's head reaching up, touching the wetness and recoiling as he saw the red. "Can you get out?" Clarke bellowed through his mask at Capp, knowing it was the only way the other man would hear him. Protocol said he should check for spinal injuries, but he was more concerned about additional explosions and the building coming down on top of them. Capp nodded, looking at the piece of metal in his arm and paling.
"Don't pull it out," Clarke screamed, shoving Capp toward the sliver of light that was the blessed outdoors. He looked back at Mills; nearly sighing with relief as he realized the other man's mask was still on as well. Luckily, the series of explosions had blown enough holes in the building that kinetic energy and diffusion had taken over, releasing much of the deadly chemicals into the outside air. He had to resort to hand signals with Mills, the man's eardrums completely perforated. Though the legacy firefighter had inherited good instincts and skill, leading him to the same actions Clarke would have instructed. They swept the area visually, trying to discern which mass might be human, coming first on an unconscious Tony, half-buried under debris. Mills reached him first, digging him out and already pulling him towards the exit, as Clarke continued trying to locate Severide or Newhouse.
The trio emerging from the building must have spurred others to defy their orders, as Clarke was suddenly joined by one lone fellow firefighter. He hadn't worked with the man, Dowling, before; but he was too grateful for another presence to worry about that. "We're still missing two," Clarke said, desperately listening for the high-pitched scream of their PASS units. Both men froze, wanting to rip off their masks and helmets to hear better, but afraid of what the heavy hanging clouds in the structure still held. Suddenly, faintly, Clarke heard it; those two ominous tones, repeating, getting louder the closer he moved toward the source. His boot hit something that gave a little, a moan following. Clarke frantically started digging, working to uncover the firefighter attached to the alarm. Thankfully, it didn't take much before a face he recognized could be seen.
"You look like hell," Clarke said, crouching over Severide, resisting the urge to grab him and shake him.
"About damn time, where is the rest of the cavalry?" Severide asked, trying to get up, stuffing down his panic as he realized he couldn't feel his legs.
"Us two are it, they told us to stand down," Clarke said with a smirk.
Severide grimaced, still trying to force his legs to follow the command his brain was giving them, not wanting Clarke to know what was going on. "What happened to once a Marine, huh?"
"I came back for your sorry ass, didn't I?" he said, before realizing Severide still wasn't moving and he didn't like the look on the other man's face. "Talk to me, buddy," he said, moving more debris out of the way, realizing that Severide had also been peppered with shrapnel.
"Clarke, over here," he heard Dowling yell, and then the other PASS alarm sounding. He looked down at Severide, "sit tight, I'll be right back."
"Not like I can go anywhere, Clarke," Severide called after him.
Newhouse had taken the brunt of the blast his helmet knocked off and his bunker jacket blown open. Clarke wasn't sure if it was from the explosion or his abnormally inflated chest. Blood hemorrhage from his nose and mouth, giving Clarke a good idea of just how serious the younger man's injuries were. He had seen this type of injury before, just not outside of battle, blast lung coupled with penetrating ballistic injuries from debris. Newhouse's eyes were wide and panicked, his fingers clawed at his throat as he gasped for air. Clarke took in the wheezing and blood, practically watching the other man's sand run out before him. Newhouse needed oxygen and a ventilator, but there was no way he was getting either of those things in what was left of the building.
"Hold on, kid, we gotta get you out of here, to fresh air," he said, clenching his jaw as he knew the unlikelihood of Newhouse making it to the hospital instead of the morgue. Clarke leaned in, pressing his ear to the man's chest, clearly hearing the struggle to breathe and something else...he paused running through his combat medic knowledge. "Crap," he said, quickly working to haul the man to his side despite Newhouse fighting him and crying out in pain. "It's for your own good, I think you have an air embolism."
He looked up at Dowling, the other man rooted to his spot as he had been since coming across Newhouse. "We gotta get him out of here, now!" Clarke ordered, bringing the other man back to the present.
"Sure thing," Dowling replied, "what end do you-" he didn't have a chance to finish the question as Newhouse began violently choking on his blood and whatever other toxic mix of chemicals he had been breathing since his helmet was knocked off.
"Damnit, he's aspirating," Clarke swore, feeling a sense of dread and helplessness wash over him, knowing the outcome of what was happening in front of him. It seemed to happen in both milliseconds and hours, Newhouse's body bucking before going completely slack. Clarke shook his head, pressing his fingers to his neck to confirm what he already knew from looking into the man's vacant but still somehow panicked eyes. He shook his head at Dowling, pressing his fingers to the young man's eyelids, forcing them closed before he rushed back to his former Lieutenant's side.
Tiring of waiting, Sergeant Platt pulled up in the Hermann's minivan, Cindy and Donna rushing out. Platt the only reason the CPD didn't stop them, Voight waving them through. "Crap, Hermann," Cailin muttered, realizing she hadn't made the phone call she Hermann had asked her to make before Clarke went rushing back into...she shook it off. She had to believe that he would be fine, couldn't allow any other possibility. She rushed over to Cindy, trying to fill the terrified woman, who was badgering Boden..
"Cindy, Christopher is fine. A little banged up but fine. He went with Brian to the hospital," Cally reassured her.
"Oh thank God," Cindy said, making the sign of the cross as she looked around. "What about Squad?" she asked, her eyes growing wide again.
Cailin swallowed, realizing she didn't know what to say. Squad seemed the only ones unaccounted for, but that had to change, because...
"Clarke's going to get them out," Erin said, resolutely from her side, as if reading her mind. "He has to. No man left behind, right, Callahan?" she said, looking at the other woman, wondering if the blonde was as close to crumbling as she was. If it wasn't for her anger at Hank for not letting her work the case, she would have shattered by now. "Thank God he had the balls to go back in," she said, glaring at Boden and the other two relief chiefs beside him.
Boden didn't hear, so caught up in trying to reassure Donna he was fine, even as tears streamed down both their faces, the man apologizing for ruining their wedding day. Everyone's attention turned to the firefighter emerging from the building, the sun glinting off the piece of metal sticking out of his arm. Rafferty sprung to action, running toward Capp, pulling him towards an ambo. Mills followed close behind, dragging a still unconscious Tony with him; the young man's bunker jacket practically molded to his form from the intense heat of the fireball. Other firefighters surged forward, reaching around Mills to grab Tony, to get him on to a gurney. Cailin noticed one lone figure break off from the pack, rushing into the building. She let out a whoosh of air, happy Clarke had backup, even if it was from a stranger.
"He'll be fine, so will Kelly," Erin said, realizing she had unconsciously wrapped her arm around through the other woman's.
Cailin set her jaw, nodding in agreement, even if Erin's tone made it much more of a question. They leaned into each other needing each other's strength, though neither woman would have admitted it, even if interrogated. Both nearly collapsed, the only thing holding the other up as the entire building started to shake, the structural integrity irreparably compromised.
"Everybody back," the chiefs yelled again, though this time all were already heeding the warnings.
Seemingly nanoseconds before the weary building finally gave up and folded in on itself, collapsing to a ground that seemed to swallow it up, a trio materialized. Both Erin and Cailin wondered if they were hallucinating, as they saw the two men in full gear carrying a third man on the remnants of a door between them. Erin was already off and running as she realized it was her fireman splayed on the door, being transferred to a gurney. "I'm good, I'm good," he said, trying to assuage the brunette detective standing beside him looking both terrified and furious.
"How can you say that, Kelly? You just got carried out of a collapsed building on a door!"
"Can we please have this argument in the ambo?" he asked as the gurney was loaded into the waiting vehicle, not wanting her to unleash whatever was building up inside of her in front of the assembled crowd. Sure, the guys had seen plenty of scorned women dress Kelly down in front of the firehouse; but at least then he was standing on his own two feet, at least then he could feel the damn things.
One of the relief chiefs didn't offer Clarke the same courtesy, getting in his face as soon as Severide was safely on the gurney. He raged on about insubordination, chain of command and disciplinary action, but Clarke barely even registered the man's wrath. He stepped around him, smiling at the approaching figure.
"Semper fi, huh, cowboy?" Cailin said, looking up at him, both relieved and worried. "You should get checked out."
"In a minute," he said, reaching for her, wrapping his arms around her, and pressing her to him like he had wanted to before.
His lips sought hers with such force that it took her breath away. "Better?" she asked when he broke off the kiss; studying him carefully, knowing his composed exterior belied a crumbling spirit.
He shook his head, cradling her face in his palms, resting his head against hers. He needed to touch her warm, soft flesh, to feel her breath against his face. He craved the feeling of her heart pounding next to his. Desperately wanting a reminder that they were both alive, while the newest member of Squad lay buried beneath the rubble...
Cailin reached up, threading her fingers through his, bringing them down; wishing she could banish the demons creeping back into his soul. "Newhouse?" she asked, the only unaccounted member of the roster. He closed his eyes and shook his head, his nostrils flaring slightly. It was her turn to cradle him, pulling him down toward her. He immediately feel to his knees, pressing his face to her stomach. She dropped her hands down, running one through his hair, the other around him. "You're safe, Jeff, I've got you," she said, echoing his words once again.
Chapter Three: When the Smoke Clears
It was Boden who approached them, waving off the relief chief who had tried to tear Clarke a new one. He cleared his throat on his approach, pausing to give his former Squad member time to come to his feet and collect himself. "Lieutenant," he said, extending a hand, "thank you for your work today."
"My job, sir," Clarke replied, shaking it firmly. Cailin remained at his side, close but not touching.
Boden looked at each of them before saying, "why don't you head to the hospital, get yourself checked out? I am sure you will want to check on Lieutenant Casey, Detective?" he said, taking in the woman's flagging energy. The pair nodded, coming down off their adrenaline high; leaning on each other as they walked away.
The only things Clarke removed on the way to the hospital were his tank, helmet and mask. He left on his bunker jacket as he could feel the fabric of his non-FR shirt sticking to his skin beneath it. He tried to not wince, not wanting to worry Cailin. He could tell she had pushed things too far; on her leg all day without any assistance, knocked back by multiple blasts, and who knows what else she had done why he was running into burning buildings. She was intensely focused on the drive from South Street to the hospital; her jaw set and her brow furrowed. He knew she was worried about Casey, but he couldn't help but wonder if there wasn't something else going on underneath the surface.
Cailin focused on the traffic in front of her, wishing she were in a department issued vehicle so she could have lights and sirens all the way to the hospital. She pulled up illegally by the ambulance bay, snarling and flashing her badge at the security guard, muttering something about a rent-a-cop. Clarke couldn't help but smirk, gesturing to his turnout gear as well.
The ER was its usual scene of chaos, especially considering the tour bus accident. Cailin scanned the people in the waiting room, zeroing on Gabby, slumped against her brother. "Gabs," she said, rushing over.
"Cally," Gabby said, tearing up as soon as she the pair.
Cailin skidded to a stop, Clarke bumping into her, steadying her and keeping a hold of her as she asked, "what, what is it?"
"I don't know, they won't tell me anything!"
She slid her eyes over to Antonio, wondering if his badge had helped. The other detective shook his head. "Screw this," Cailin said, marching up to the nurses' station. "Matthew Casey, CFD, news, now!" she demanded, knowing it wouldn't make her any friends; but considering her stunt with Arata at the train derailment, she was pretty sure she wasn't high on the BFF-list of most medical professionals in the city.
Cailin let out a sigh of relief as the nurse said, "you must be his sister. Doctor will be right with you."
Cailin nodded, croaking out a thank you until she realized. Christie, someone needed to call Christie. And that someone should be her, but she wanted to be able to talk to the doctor. Cally pulled out her phone, ducking to the exit to make a quick call. "Cam, it's me. Yes, your only sister. I need you to do me a solid. I need you to go pick up Christie. It's Matt again. No I don't know yet. Yeah, the building explosion. Just do it, Cameron; you two broke up eons ago, I thought you were still friends."
Clarke was still standing in the waiting room when she walked back in. "What's the matter, CFD doesn't get first priority around here?" she snapped.
"I'm fine, Cal. What about you, do you need an ice pack?" he asked, wishing she would sit down instead of pacing.
Gabby was still sitting practically catatonic in the waiting room chair, Antonio had his arm around her, but Cally could hear the incessant buzzing of his phone. She wondered what Voight and his team had come up with regarding the owners of the meth lab. Their eyes caught and he twitched his head toward his sister and then toward his phone. Cally nodded, sitting on the other side of Gabby so Antonio could take the call.
She searched for the right words to say, but her own fears tangled her thoughts and words. Finally she croaked out, "he's going to be fine!" She was demanding it of the universe as much as she was saying it to her friend.
Gabby gave the briefest of nods, staring off into space with her eyes empty enough that Cailin had to wonder if Shay hadn't slipped her something. Speaking of which, where was Shay?
She spotted Rafferty, filling out paperwork as fast as she could. She patted Gabby on the shoulder. The woman didn't even flinch. "I'll be right back, I'm going to check in with Rafferty."
Cailin walked over, rapid firing questions at the paramedic. "Have you seen Shay? Did they bring Severide here too? Have you heard anything about Casey? What about the guys they brought to the Med Center?" Cally caught something in the woman's eyes. "What, what is it?"
Rafferty cleared her throat, "Severide is here, he is in neuro now. He started seizing in the ambulance, so they are trying to figure out if he has any head trauma in addition to if the paralysis is permanent. That other detective is even bossier than you; she followed them up there. Shay had to be admitted as well. She was more hurt than she let on, took a piece of rebar to the abdomen, lost a lot of blood." She studied Cailin carefully, wondering if she was going to need to flag over a gurney; but the other woman just squared her shoulders, tensed her jaw and replied, "I see."
Cailin took in the new information, feeling the dark waves of panic start to tug at her with their familiar undertow. She forced it back, forced everything back and down. She had to turn off her emotions, to distance herself from feeling anything; otherwise how could she be there for the people who needed her strong...
"Anyway, I gotta get back to the scene, there was still some green tags that needed to be checked out. You gonna be alright?" Rafferty asked.
"I'm fine," she replied as a doctor stepped out calling for the family of Matthew Casey. She strode over, ready for battle, steeling herself for the worst possible news'.
"Family of Matthew Casey?" the doctor said to the blonde before him, taking in her stature and badge. Cailin didn't bother to correct him, just staring at him, waiting for any news. "Mr. Casey was exposed to several toxic chemicals and fumes including hydrochloric acid and is suffering from acute hypoxemia."
"But he's alive?" Cailin asked, trying to sift through what the doctor had just told her.
"Yes, but we don't know the extent of his injuries. He is at a high risk for chemical pneumonia and we currently have him on artificial ventilation to take some of the pressure of his lungs as we continue to run tests and we have him highly sedated."
She let out a long, slow breath, "what's the prognosis?"
"We won't know what his long term prognosis is for some time yet. But unless he has complications with other organs, his short term outlook is pretty good."
"I see," she replied carefully. "Can anyone see him?" Her mind was whirling with concern over Matt's health as well as what this meant to his career in the long term.
"Once we get him moved into the ICU. I think it is always healing to have familiar faces around." The doctor's pager went off, he gave Cailin another long look, wondering how much of his information had sunk in. The young woman's eyes had the glint of steel and looked far closer to some of the patients he had seen during his tenure at Walter Reed than that of a worried sibling. He finally got a short reply of "thank you, sir."
Cailin closed her eyes, internally steadying herself before walking back to where Gabby was still sitting, staring straight ahead. Clarke was beside her, perched on the edge of the chair, still in his turnout gear. His face was a blank mask, but Cally could tell he was in pain. She wondered what the extents of his heroics inside the building were. She looked around for a nurse, wondering if anyone was actually working at this damn hospital.
Finally she just stepped in the path of a nurse making her way to the snack machine. "Excuse me," she said, hoping her voice didn't sound as hollow as it felt. "There is a fireman over there, from the building explosion. He hasn't been looked at yet."
"We've been really busy with trauma cases from the bus accident," the nurse said, trying to brush her off, stopping when she saw Cailin's badge and her intense focus. "I'll see what I can do," she replied, turning back toward the nurses' station.
Cailin made her way back toward Gabby and Clarke, trying to ignore the physical pain coursing through her body. She had been able to halt her emotions, but her body was betraying her.
She had to crouch down in front of Gabby to finally get the woman's attention, her leg threatening to give out on her any second. "They had to put him on a ventilator, but he's alive. Once they move him to ICU, you can see him." She kept her information sparse; knowing from personal experience Gabby would not be able to process anything more than that.
Gabby just nodded. Cailin looked up at Clarke, a flicker of concern darting across her face before she settled it back into its blank visage.
Clarke patted the chair next to him, brushing her hair back with a still soot-covered hand. He knew Gabby was in complete shock and that Cally was trying her damnedest to shut down her emotions in order to continue on. He also could tell she was terrified and in pain. There was nothing he wouldn't give to turn the clock back to earlier in the day when he was fastening that pendant around her neck, and to stop time there; to let himself get lost in her instead of this day from hell.
She carefully pulled herself to standing, every nerve ending a tiny knife stabbing her. She didn't sit, seeing the nurse she flagged down earlier coming toward them.
"Sir, I understand you were at the building explosion?" she asked, her expression sympathetic. Clarke nodded. "We need to check you out for chemical exposure. If you could come this way." He nodded again, standing, giving Cally a squeeze and what he hoped was a reassuring look; though judging from the further paling of her skin, it didn't work.
"I'll be fine, Cally. Love you," he said, giving her a quick kiss.
"At least he's breathing on his own,," came Gabby's voice from below her, somehow empty and venomous at the same time.
Cailin would have been taken aback, but she knew exactly what the other woman was feeling, or trying not to feel. "Matt is in good hands. And he's a fighter." Her eyes were drawn to the exit, her brother accompanying Matt's sister. The woman was teary eyed and wringing her hands, rushing up to Cailin for information. Cailin moved them out of the way, not wanting to stress Gabby further.
"What do you mean he's not breathing on his own...on purpose?" Christie looked at her completely perplexed.
"It's actually pretty normal with pulmonary issues," Cailin replied, harkening back to her own lung issues back in New York. "They are just helping take a load off while they figure out what all treatment he needs. Think of it like his lungs taking a little vacation." Cailin sounded far more assured and in control than she felt. "While we are waiting on him to be moved, why don't you go sit down?"
Cam stared down his sister before helping Christie over to a chair, concerned over the armor she had resurrected. He had heard stories from Cullen, about how Cally was more of a shell than a person and he worried she was slipping away once again. Hopefully her fireman was okay. Why the hell couldn't she date an accountant or some other boring, safe, professional? "Cal-" he started.
"I'm fine, Cam. Just get Christie over there by Gabby before she falls out. I'm going to get a coffee and see what I can find out about the rest of 51."
Cailin was returning with her cup of coffee when she stopped short, the paper cup falling to the floor as she saw the nurse attempting to extract pieces of fabric from the second-degree burns maring Clarke's back. No wonder he hadn't taken his bunker coat off yet.
It shouldn't have surprised her, nearly every firefighter that had emerged from the inferno looked like they were life-sized shrinky dinks. But seeing the red, angry blisters scattered across a back she had admired, stroked and loved...an orderly and nurse appeared at her side. The former with a mop and scowl, the latter with a look of concern and trying to move her away.
"Miss, please," she said, gripping Cailin's elbow.
"Let go," she growled in reply, her tone one of fierce protectiveness.
Clarke's head turned, recognizing not only the voice, but also the tone. "Cally, I'm fine," he said, craning his neck to try to look through the gap in the curtain, the nurse admonishing him even as she waved Cailin in.
"That is not fine, Jeff!" she argued, entering the curtained off area and facing him down. "This is what you get for running into a burning building without FR on, cowboy!" She wanted the nickname to soften her words, but her intonation belied her. Her voice cracking as she inched ever nearer her breaking point.
"I need to get the dressings on. He will need help with changing them and cleaning the wounds for the next couple of weeks and the doctor will probably prescribe him a round of antibiotics and maybe some pain meds. We're still waiting on his tox and gas screens, but his lung sounds are good. So he is telling you the truth, detective, he will be fine. Thanks for getting him seen, though."
Clarke gave Cally a look silently calling her out before turning the tables on her. "What about you, babe, how's the leg and shoulder? I'm guessing you didn't tell the nurse about getting shot in the thigh and shoulder a month ago."
"How are you walking around unaided?" the nurse asked as she spread ointment over Clarke's back.
"She has a cane, she's still supposed to be using it."
"Thanks, narc," Cailin grumbled, "it didn't really scream 'wedding attire' and I wasn't aware it was going to turn into..." she trailed off, overwhelmed.
The nurse looked from one to the other. She saw plenty of crap in a day, but a cop and a fireman? She wouldn't want to hear their dinner conversations. She finished taping down the dressing, saying, "how about I give you two a couple of minutes and go see if I can find a pair of scrubs lying around?"
She slipped out, leaving the couple staring at each other. "I really am fine, Cal," Clarke said, his voice low, his eyes full of concern.
As had been the case since she met him, Cailin felt her walls crumbling as she got lost in his eyes. Her armor pierced once again. "It feels awful to say it, Jeff, but for the first time I am so glad you aren't at 51 anymore. That could have been- she broke off, terror and grief etched clearly on her face.
Clarke reached out to her, ignoring the scorching sensation of his back. Physically connecting with her far more important than his pain. His hands encircled her wrists, pulling her up to the side of the bed. "But it wasn't, Cally. I'm here, I'm safe and I am not going anywhere on you." He meant it, vowing it to her with his entire being. He realized that even though he would keep running in while others were running out until the day the CFD made him retire, he wasn't willing to make her go through the pain of losing someone she loved again.
Something cemented as she echoed his thoughts with her next statement, her eyes full of such anguish it broke his heart as she said, "I can't lose you, you gotta be in this for the long haul."
"You ain't getting rid of me, Callahan, promise," he replied, pulling her down to him, his lips meeting hers.