A/N: This is one of my favorite chapters of this story, but was also so hard to write. This is your warning to have tissues handy!

Gabby's first stop was the building where she'd once shared an apartment with Casey. The last time she'd seen him alive and well had been when she'd returned from Puerto Rico to get the rest of her things and say goodbye. She'd asked him to come with her, despite knowing he wouldn't, because she hadn't been ready to admit that their marriage was at an end. The heartbreak and pain on his face had mirrored her own feelings. But even through the pain, Casey had told her that he was proud of her. She'd savored the feel of his arms around her, trying to memorize how it felt to be held in his arms, knowing she'd never experience that feeling again.

She couldn't help but wonder if she would have stayed had she known what the future held. If she'd known that Casey and Severide and Herrmann and the rest of her 51 family would lose their lives in a fire barely two years later, would she have stayed? She knew the answer: yes. She would have stayed and savored every single moment with them. But she also knew that it would have been a mistake. Things between her and Casey had been falling apart; had she stayed, their relationships would have ended up in shambles, which would have impacted the firehouse. While she'd missed out on the last two years of their lives, it had allowed her last memories with them all to be good ones.

Memories of her and Matt's time together in that apartment flashed through her mind as she stood there, looking at the door to their apartment building. Moving in. Celebrating her graduation from the Fire Academy. Losing Shay. Severide moving in with them after Shay's death. Getting engaged. Losing their baby. Louie coming home with them. Getting married. Losing Louie. Her father moving in. Matt's award and promotion. Her father moving out. Their last kiss. Their last time holding each other as they slept. Her leaving for Puerto Rico. Returning to say goodbye. So many memories, both good and bad, had been made in that apartment. When she thought of Matt, this is where she'd always picture him. Here, where they'd supported and loved each other through the good times and the bad until the time had come for them to part ways.

"Goodbye, Matt," she whispered, turning away from the building. She didn't know yet what the future held for her or where she'd end up, but as she turned away, she knew that this would be her last time coming to this building where so many memories had been made. It was too hard to come here now, knowing that the man who had made this place a home with her was gone forever, as was the man who had been a friend and brother to them both and had once shared the apartment with them.

Gabby's next stop was Firehouse 51. She'd wanted to come here since she'd arrived in town but had also been dreading it. Seeing it adorned in the black bunting that symbolized the loss the house had suffered nearly broke her. She knew from what Boden had told her that the house was currently out of commission during the shift that had been theirs. CFD didn't have enough floaters to staff a whole shift, so they'd decided to reassign the calls to other houses instead.

As she walked up the apron towards the firehouse, her eyes caught sight of the makeshift memorial to the side of the overhead doors. She counted the pairs of boots sitting there: 13. Casey's hadn't yet joined the others. She knelt down in front of it, looking at all of the notes and flowers and other items that had been left there. She picked up a picture of Severide standing beside a young boy, his arm wrapped around him. She recognized the boy as Nathan, whose life Severide had saved when he was out running. She sat the photo back down and her eyes caught sight of another picture. This one contained Matt holding a small boy. She recognized it immediately, as she'd been the one to take it. The boy in Matt's arms was Louie.

Fresh tears fell from her eyes as she picked the photo up. The only two people who could have left it there were Louie or his father, as this had been the only copy of that photo. She flipped it over; she'd always marked the date on the back of pictures of Louie. It had been Matt's suggestion when they'd thought Louie would be theirs forever so that when Louie was older, they'd able to remember when each picture was taken. To her surprise, there was a note on the back.

Matt, I'll never forget what you and Gabby did for Louie. You were a hero to my son long before you were a hero to this city. You impacted so many lives, and your loss leaves a gaping hole that can never be filled. – Andre

Beneath that was another note, this one written in a childish scrawl.

Dear Matt, thank you for being my daddy before Daddy found me. When I grow up, I want to be a firefighter just like you and Gabby. I hope you're liking heaven. – Love, Louie

A sob escaped Gabby as she placed the photo back where she'd gotten it from. She hadn't realized that news of Matt's death had already been announced, although she shouldn't be surprised. She knew from Cruz, Mouch, and Severide's deaths that the CFD had pre-drafted announcements of the four survivors' deaths. They'd told Boden that it was a precaution to ensure that, if they did die, their death would be announced officially before anyone had the chance to leak it to the press, but Gabby knew that it was because they'd known what she and the others hadn't wanted to admit: it wasn't a matter of if, but when.

"I've been told that there's been a constant flow of people stopping by to pay their respects and leave a tribute since the news first broke," Boden said, kneeling down beside Gabby.

Gabby looked at the chief in surprise. She hadn't heard him come up and hadn't expected anyone else to be here considering that it was already dark. "They would have loved seeing this," she said softly. "There's notes and photos and news clippings from so many victims that they saved over the years. There's a picture of Severide with Nathan and one of Matt with Louie. There's even a newspaper clipping about Molly's."

Boden nodded. "It helps, seeing this. Knowing the impact they all made on the community and the lives they saved. It helps to know that it wasn't all in vain."

"I remember after Shay died," Gabby said softly. "When Severide wanted to quit, Matt went up to Benny's cabin with your logbook and showed him the lives that had been saved on each call. It was what convinced him to come back. This is the same thing. It's a physical representation of all of the lives that were saved because they were willing to put their lives on the line to save others."

The two stayed there in silence for a couple of minutes as they looked at the makeshift memorial, lost in their own thoughts and memories. Finally, Boden stood, sighing. "I was coming here to put Casey's boots out with the others," he stated, his grief evident in his voice.

Gabby nodded as she stood up. "I wondered who had been putting them out," she admitted.

"That first day…it felt like the only thing I could do," Boden admitted. "When I arrived, the bunting had already been hung, and the trucks and ambulance had been draped, as well. From what I've been told, the other shifts came in to do it as soon as they heard the news. There were already items being left on the apron in front of the doors and I knew it couldn't stay there, but I also wanted to give the community a place to honor their fallen. So, I brought the boots out and lined them up, then moved the items that had already been left. I've added to it every time we lost another. With each one I placed I prayed that I wouldn't have to place another, but those prayers have gone unanswered." He sighed, shaking his head. "Severide and Casey's…having to place theirs…it's harder than the rest. Those two were the backbone of this house. I always knew that no matter what happened, I could trust them to be there, supporting me and leading the men and women of this house. To lose them has been to lose the heart and soul of 51."

Gabby followed Boden as he unlocked the door to the firehouse, holding it open for her. "Chief? Do you mind if I…" She gestured towards the common room, the lump in her throat making it impossible to complete her sentence."

"Take however long you need," Boden replied, an understanding look on his face.

Gabby nodded, heading towards the common room as Boden headed in the direction of the apparatus floor to retrieve one last pair of boots from the turnout room. When she reached the doorway, she stopped, her feet suddenly unable to move. She could still see Mouch sitting in his spot on the couch, watching tv while Cruz and Otis sat at the table behind him, tinkering with Otis's latest obsession. Capp and Tony were at the big table with Herrmann, the three of them joking around about one thing or another while Kidd sat shaking her head in amusement. The guys from Engine 51 were sitting at the over end of the table, eating lunch, and she could hear Brett's voice drifting in from the hallway, 61 having just returned from a call. Severide and Matt came walking in from the bunk room, cigars in hand, passing through on the way out for one of their cigar chats.

Gabby blinked and suddenly everyone was gone and it was silent again. Gabby squeezed her eyes shut, willing everyone to reappear, but when she opened her eyes, she was once again greeted by an empty room.

A tear trickled down her cheek as she walked over to the couch, resting her hand on the back of it in the spot where Mouch had always sat. He would never again sit there, just as Otis and Crus would never again be tinkering with a project, Severide and Matt would never share another cigar chat, and the others would never again sit at the table. Somehow, seeing the empty room made it seem more real than even the funerals today had. For the first time since she'd heard the news it hit her that they were really all gone.

She held herself together long enough to get to Matt's office, collapsing onto his bunk as sobs wracked her body. They were gone. Matt, Severide, Herrmann, Mouch, Otis, Cruz, Kidd, Capp, Tony, and the entire Engine crew. They were gone and they were never coming back. They had responded to their last alarm and had answered their last call; their duty had ended.