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ssfghfrrggf · 3 years

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Heavy is the Head Chapter 8 Going Down

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“Excuse me, chief, do you have a minute?” Gallo asks, knocking on the door to Casey’s office. He can’t believe he’s actually taking Ritter’s advise and apologizing for what he said the last shift. He meant it, and he knows he lucky Casey didn’t fire him on the spot. Boden probably would’ve, but then again, Boden probably would’ve listened to him.

“Yes, I’m glad you came in here actually,” Casey says, inviting him into the room. Severide is standing in the corner with his arms crossed over his chest. They were probably talking wedding stuff.

“Before you say anything, Chief, I’d like to apologize for what I said and how I acted last shift,” Gallo says, forcing himself to sound sincere. He hopes Ritter is right about this. “There’s no excuse for how I acted.”

“I agree, there’s not,” Casey says stiffly but digresses as Severide clears his throat. “But I’m going to let you look into your hunch.”

“Sir I-” Gallo starts to argue, but then registers what Casey said. “wait, you’re letting me? Really?”

Casey nods. “But I’m letting Severide take point on it. I don’t want you running all over creation with this. And if he thinks you need to take it back a notch and you don’t listen to him, then I’m going to hear about it. Got it?”

“Yes sir,” Gallo says, nodding his head and glancing over at the squad lieutenant. “You won’t regret this.”

“I better not.”

Gallo’s grateful for this chance to pursue these fires, but he can’t help but feel like Casey still isn’t taking it seriously and that he’s just dumped all the responsibility off onto Severide.

“So what are you thinking the connection between these two cases is?” Severide asks, as Gallo follows him back to his office. “I looked through the files and nothing stood out to me. I also know the investigator who did all three cases, he’s a solid dude.”

“Honestly, I’m not really sure,” Gallo admits. “They just struck me as odd, you know?”

Severide nods thoughtfully. “I know the feeling. Sadly fire chiefs and juries need more than hunches. Especially when there’s reasonable explanations for everything.”

“I was kind of hoping we could go look at the scene or something,” Gallo suggests hopefully.

Severide sighs. “I can give Phil a call and see if he’ll hold the scene and let us have a look at the last fire, but the other two scenes were cleared a long time ago.”

“Thank you lieutenant,” Gallo says, he can’t put into words how happy he is that he’s being allowed to work on this.

“Yeah, and here are your copies of the files,” Severide says, handing him a stack of files.

“I get files?” Gallo asks, trying not to sound too shocked.

Severide looks amused and conceals a chuckle. “Yes, you get files. You gotta figure out this hunch of yours.”

“Oh- oh.” Gallo’s really not sure what he was expecting from this, but this isn’t really it. He figured Severide would take the case and he’d have to wait around for the lieutenant to figure it out and then bring him into the loop. But now he gets to be part of the loop. He gets to take a more active role than annoying his superior officers until they do what he wants and take him seriously. The situation is quite literally in his hands.

“I’m going to give the files my own look over, but this is your thing.”

“Thank you,” Gallo breathes, and he means it. From the bottom of his heart he means it. Someone is finally taking this seriously.

***

“I still can’t believe he proposed to you in a freezing pool after you pulled him out a window,” Mackey muses, as she, Brett, and Foster are sit around admiring the ring Severide got Stella, like they’ve never seen an engagement ring before.

“It doesn’t surprise me one bit,” Stella says, keeping her hand held out in front of her. It’s been quite a few years since she had a ring on that finger, and it’s a little strange, but it feels right. Right like nothing else has felt right before. “I think it was cute.”

“Only you would call that whole situation that,” Foster laughs. “Almost dying in a fire and then getting soaked in a freezing pool? No thanks.”

“I’m just glad that pool was there, because let me tell you, a hospital proposal would’ve been awful,” Stella jokes. It seems like her and Kelly have spent so much time in the hospital, she doesn’t need a proposal there. As little memories associated with that place as possible, the better.

“You didn’t know the pool was there?” Brett asks, looking at her in shock. “You neglected to mention that all the times you’ve told the story.”

“No, the only thing I was worried about was not getting burned alive,” Stella laughs.

“But she’s got good extinct,” Kelly says, coming up behind her and rubbing her shoulders and leaning his head over her to pant a kiss on the top of her head. “Saved my ass more times than I count.”

“I don’t know how you survived before I came along,” Stella teases and reaches up to pat his cheek.

“Oh it was rocky,” Casey joins in the converversation as he makes an appearance to get a refill on his coffee. “There’s nothing to explain how he managed it. Broken neck and blown up with a grenade, what a year apart?”

Severide ducks his head nervously and shrugs off the jab. The grenade incident has been briefly discussed before, but Kelly stands by the firm assertion that he doesn’t remember any of it. Which very well may be true, but Brett remembers it vividly and hates talking about it. The only reason he didn’t die on that hospital floor was because Mills had found him and stopped Dr. Halstead from black tagging him.

“Like I said,” Stella says with a playful smirk. “It’s a miracle you made it to adulthood.”

“Really, that goes for any man, I think,” Foster says, leaning back and propping her feet up on the table. “We’re the reason any of them make it past adolescents. The only ones who don’t need us are the ones who are smart like Ritter.”

“Please don’t bring me into this,” Ritter says, poking his head from his book.

“Well, Severide gets some credit, even if he did propose to you in a swimming pool in the middle of January, because he did it,” Sylvie points out. He blew their plan, but he asked and now him and Stella are going to get married.

***

“You look busy,” Ritter comments, dragging Gallo’s attention away from his files for the first time since Severide handed them to him.

“Yeah, I finally got a hold of the files from those fires,” Gallo says diverting his attention only for a couple seconds to look at his friend before digging back into the files. He has yet to find anything linking them together other than his gut feeling, but he’s going to dig until he finds answers.

“So apologizing worked?” Ritter says and sits down on the bed next to him.

“Shut up. He was going to let me do it even before I apologized,” Gallo says. He’s never going to admit out loud that it probably did help his chances.

“Mhmm,” Ritter says and flips open one of the files. “So what exactly are you looking for here?”

“I don’t know, that’s half the problem,” Gallo says with a sigh. He’s been looking at the files for what feels like ages but he can’t seem to find anything tying the cases together.

“Hey, kid. You up to take a ride?” Severide asks, approaching them. “My buddy in arson said we can go poke around the scene..”

“Yes!” Gallo says and hops off the bed, trying to keep his excitement at bay. “Oh I gotta check with Lieutenant-”

“I already did. She practically begged me to take you off her hands for a couple hours. Go grab your gear and get in the Squad,” Severide says jerking his head toward the door. He looks amused by Gallo’s excitement, but keeps any comments about it to himself.

“Thank you lieutenant,” Gallo says as he walks past the squad firefighter to get to the bay. For some reason he really wasn’t expecting things to go like this, he half expected Severide to give him the run around and not take his crazy theory seriously, the same way Casey had.

“Yeah,” Severide shrugs and turns to follow him.

***

“Hey, lieutenant,” Gallo calls from down the hallway in the dark gloomy house. The kid sounds concerned and like he’s just found.

“What’d you find?” Kelly asks, shining his flashlight in the direction of the kid. He conceals a shiver as a drop of water falls from the sealing and goes down the back of his shirt sending a tickle down his back.

“This door right here,” Gallo says and points to the door leading out onto the back porch of the house. “There’s scratches in the wood around the lock and bolt.”

Severide frowns at it, the wood is splintered away and chipped like the door was pried open with a crowbar or some other tool like it.

“It wasn’t in the report,” Gallo adds, and he’s right. There hadn’t been anything in the arson report about the apparent forced entry marks that they’re looking at now.

“I know,” Severide says and pulls out his phone to take a picture of it. Phil has always been meticulous with his investigations, and has some of the cleanest neatest reports in the department. “I’ll call Phil when we get back to the house, but we’ll keep poking around here to see what else we can find.”

He hadn’t been convinced by Gallo’s theory, especially after reading the reports. They were all so different. The christmas tree fire that had happened on Roosevelt was because of a frayed wire on the christmas lights, the fire before that on Loomis had been caused by lint in the dryer, and the one from the previous shift, the one they’re at now, was caused by a gas stove malfunction. There’s essentially nothing connecting them, but just because there’s nothing connecting them doesn’t mean this one isn’t arson, and two parents died leaving their kids orphans so he owes it to them to pursue this, especially with the possible new evidence of foul play.

“Hey, lieutenant, we got a call,” Tony says, poking his head around a corner down the hallway from them.

Severide sighs and looks at Gallo. “We’ll come back later.”

***

“Hey lieutenant, you wanna go have another look around that house? See if we can find anything else that points to fowl play?” Gallo asks, poking his head into the lieutenant's office. They’ve been back from the squad rescue for about an hour now, he wanted to give Severide time to fill out his paperwork for the run before pestering him to go back and have another look at the house.

He’s not surprised to see that Stella is in his office with him, sitting on his bed. She has some kind of magazine that looks like it’s for wedding stuff, and the paperwork sitting on Severide’s desk is only half filled out.

“I don’t think we’re going to find much,” Severide replies, clicking his pen and leaning back in his chair. “I called Phil. He said those marks were from crews making entry, and that the paper work for it got mixed into the wrong file.”

“But what if there’s something else in that house that points to fowl play?” Gallo argues.

“Look, I’ve got paperwork I need to finish up. We can maybe go back after shift.”

Gallo swallows back an angry remark and settles for a curt “Okay” to dismiss himself from Severide’s office instead.

***

“Hey, lieutenant, do you want to take another look at that house?” Gallo asks, jogging to catch up with Severide and Stella as they leave shift.

Severide sighs and turns away from Stella to face him. “I’ve got some stuff I need to do. I’ll give you a call if I have time later, but I really don’t think we’re going to find anything else at that house.

“You know, for a second there I thought you’d take this seriously,” Gallo spits angrily. He can feel Ritter next him, willing him to rein it in, but he’s too angry and too worked up. He’d thought- or hoped really, that the lieutenant would take him seriously and put actual work into this case, but he’s blowing it off.

“Gallo-” Severide starts to speak, indignation smeared all across his face.

“You’re going to regret blowing this off when someone else dies!” Gallo shouts, unable to stop himself. “There’s an arsonist out there targeting families and you’re letting them get away with it because you think your stupid wedding planning is more important!”

The shock on Severide’s face switches to anger, and there’s a second where Blake thinks the man might actually deck him, but he doesn’t care.

“Watch it.”

“No, you’re blowing me off just like Casey is. You don’t care. People are going to die- have died, and you don’t care,” Gallo snaps, and turns on his heals and leaves before the lieutenant can respond. He doesn’t care if he gets fired for all the yelling at superior officers he’s been doing lately. People are dying and he’s the only one who seems to be noticing it, and if he has to get fired to make people see it, than so be it.

“Gallo,” Ritter breathes, following him toward his car.

“I’m done being blown off,” Blake interrupts him. “If they don’t believe me or care, fine. I’ll solve the case myself, because I’m right.”

***

“Hey, Kelly, you ready to come to bed?” Stella says in her best seductive voice as she stands in the doorway of their bedroom trying to get Severide’s attention.

“No,” he mumbles, barely even looking up at her. He hasn’t looked away from the fire files for more than a minute since they got home. Stella sighs and walks over to the couch, giving up on her attempt to get a couple minutes with him.

“You’re really torn up about this, aren’t you?” she says quietly plopping herself down on the couch next to him, and picking up one of the files to flip through it.

“He was right,” Kelly replies under his breath. “I didn’t mean to be blowing him off, but I was. I didn’t take it seriously or as seriously as I should’ve. If he’s right this could be huge.”

“Well, you are now,” she points out and runs her fingers through the hair on the back of his head. “Hang on…” she trails off as her gaze settles on one of the pictures from the fire on Roosevelt where the christmas tree had burned the house down.

“What?” Severide asks, looking at her.

“It’s not the focus of the picture, but that back window is broken,” she says pointing to the picture.

“Yeah, report says it was from ventilation,” Severide says, losing interest and turning his attention to a different file.

Stella frowns and shakes her head. “We never vented the back windows.”

This stops Severide and gets his attention. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure we didn’t break that window. We didn’t touch the back side of the house, and engine hit it from the front.”

“There’s no chance you’re remembering wrong?”

“Kelly, I’ve been a lieutenant for what? A couple months? I haven’t been point on a lot fires, but I remember the ones I did like the back of my hand,” Stella promises, looking him in the eyes.

Kelly’s frown deepens and he hands her another file. “Did you make entry through the back on this one?”

It’s the fire that lead to Severide proposing to her, but it’s hard to have fond memories of it. Gallo and Ritter barely made it out alive, let alone her and Kelly.

“We didn’t touch the back door,” Stella says looking at the pictures her fiance has just put in front of her. “And look there’s charing on these scratches.”

“Which means they were made before the smoke got bad, I know,” Kelly finishes for her. “And I assume you guys didn’t touch the basement door on that fire on Loomis.”

“No,” Stella says, shaking her head. She’s not sure exactly what the two of them just stumbled on, but she does know whatever it is, Gallo was right.

“Gallo was right,” Kelly says leaning back on the couch and letting out a deep sigh.

“Are you going to call Phil and have him reopen the cases?” Stella asks.

“Not yet,” he replies without looking at her. She can tell he’s planning something- has some idea running through his mind.

“What are you thinking?” she asks, studying him closely, hoping he’ll actually let her in on whatever crazy idea is running through his head.

“We need to go look at those scenes,” he says looking over at her, and she can tell there’s something else on his mind.

“Kelly, they’ve already started renovations on two of them. Now tell me what you’re really thinking,” Stella says and rubs the back of his neck. She can feel his tension. There’s definitely something going on with these cases but they can’t run into it willy nilly.

“All three of these were Phil’s cases,” Severide says slowly, flipping the file in his lap closed.

“And you think he’s covering something up?” Stella asks. That’s a big accusation, and if that’s the case, they definitely need to come at this carefully and thoroughly. You can’t come at an arson investigator with that accusation without evidence that is rock solid.

“I don’t know Stella. It doesn’t make sense. I know him. He wouldn’t cover something up, but he’s also not sloppy,” Kelly says, getting flustered. “But one case is a fluke, two is a coincidence…”

“And three is a pattern,” Stella finishes for him.

“Three is a pattern,” he repeats hesitantly and looks away from her. “I don’t get it Stella…”

“Kelly-”

He shakes his head and stands up. “I need to call Boden.”

“Kelly, please don’t shut me out on this,” Stella says, standing up too, and grabbing his hand.

“There’s a couple other cases I want to look into,” Severide replies after a moment of hesitation. “I think it’s possible that they’re connected to these, but I need to talk to Boden first.”

“What cases?” Stella asks, looking him in the eyes.

***

“What if we asked Boden for help?” Ritter suggests. He’s been helping Gallo sort through the arson files since they got of shift the day before last, and it’s been grooling. Blake is relentless in getting to the bottom of this, but the best thing they’ve found is a couple inconsistencies between how Gallo remembers things going down on the fire scene and how things were listed in the arson reports. Ritter isn’t really sure which is more stressful, watching Gallo run himself ragged trying to solve this thing or the fact that there’s probably an arsonist out there burning families up and there’s very little they can to do to stop them until the hit a real break in the case.

“He’s retired,” Gallo says flatley and throws his bag of personal belongings over his shoulder before slamming his car door.

“But he has friends who aren’t,” Ritter points out. “He probably knows someone who could get us a meeting with those first two families.”

“You think they’d talk to us?” Gallo asks, looking up from the file that currently has his attention.

“Yeah, I mean if it were my house that burnt down, I’d want to help figure it out,” Ritter says. “Or you could ask Casey since he probably has some good connections and could move faster on it.”

This makes Gallo snort.

“What?”

“Casey thinks this whole thing is a load of crap. Hell maybe he’s right and I am crazy,” Gallo scoffs, shaking his head. “Regardless, he won’t help.”

“Gallo, what made you think the cases are connected?” Ritter finally asks. He thinks it’s quite possible his friend is onto something, but he wants to know what it was that made him see a connection, what clicked.

“The families,” Gallo replies after a moment of thoughtful silence. “They reminded me of my family, and I always kind of wondered. They said the fire was started by a gas stove…”

“But you feel like there was more,” Ritter says, finishing for him. “And when the report came back on that 3rd house being a stove fire-”

“Yeah,” Gallo interrupts him. “But there’s something else about them, the fire spread and how quickly they reached flashover there was just something so similar about them, and I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

***

“Gallo, we need to talk.” Severide is waiting for him on the app floor when he and Ritter get to work. Stella is waiting with him. Both of them have grim expressions on their faces like whatever they’re about to tell him is serious. They’ve probably decided to reprimand him for the way he lit into Severide coming off the last shift, which he’d probably deserve. He’s been testing a lot of people’s authority and pushing a lot of respect boundaries lately.

“You’re not in trouble,” Stella adds, glancing over at her fiance.

“We found something.”

“What?” Gallo breathes, he’d thought for sure that after their fight last shift, Severide wouldn’t want anything to do with the case.

“We’ll talk in my office,” Severide replies, nodding his head toward the door to inside, but before they can make it more than two steps the tones sound.

“Engine 51, Truck 81, Ambulance 61, Squad 3, Battalion 25, multi story residential structure fire.”

“We’ll talk when we get back,” Severide promises as he heads to the squad truck.

***

It’s a three story building, and dispatch radios in as they roll onto scene that it’s a duplex with multiple residents. A block away Stella knew it’d be a big one, but arriving on scene it’s worse than she thought. All three floors are burning, and there’s heavy smoke.

“What’s our plan, chief?” Stella asks as they unload off the truck.

“Fire’s in the roof structure, so I don’t want crews up there, so truck and squad do a quick primary search. Then get out. This place is going up fast.”

“You got it chief,” Stella says, already masking up. “Mouch and Gallo, take the ladder up to the third floor. Nathan you’re with me, we’ll take the second floor.”

“Capp and Tony you two are together, Cruz your with me. We’ll clear the first floor and move up to help out,” Severide orders masking up with his firefighters.

“Be Careful in there,” Stella calls over her shoulder as she and Nathan head inside. Black smoke is already pouring out of the open door.

The first floor seems to mostly just filling up with smoke, it’s not even thick enough that they have to crawl in order to see. Stella can hear Squad making entry behind them as she and Nathan head up the stairs to the second floor. The second story is worse. The smoke gets thick and black before they reach the top of the stairs, to thick to see much of anything.

“Alright get down, Nathan,” Stella orders, dropping down onto her hands and knees. “Keep one hand on my ankle, if I stop feeling you touching me, I’m going to stop, got it?”

“Yeah!” Nathan replies, she can hear the excitement in his voice. Since joining 51 he’s gotten more than his fair share of hairy situations, and remains unphased by them. “Let’s do this!”

Stella shakes her head, amused with the kid’s energy, before pressing on deeper into the black smoke.

***

“Chief, we got two victims on the second floor and need assistance,” Stella’s voice comes over the radio.

“Cruz and I are clear on the first floor and can go assist,” Severide reports, glancing at Cruz who nods that he’s ready for more action.

“Copy that, go assist them, Severide,” Casey replies.

“Alright, lets go,” Severide says to Cruz and jerks his head toward the stairs.

“Kidd, what’s your location?” Severide asks as he and Cruz start their trek up the stairs into the thicker smoke.

“Second door on the left,” Stella replies.

The hallway at the top of the stairs is dark from the thick smoke, and they have to get down on their hands and knees just to see. Cruz keeps one hand on Severide’s ankle as they grope their way through the deepening darkness, letting him know he’s still right there with him. There’s next to zero visibility now, so Severide has to run his hand along the left side of the wall to feel for doorways. His hand slides off into nothing but empty space and he almost tips over.

“That’s the first door,” He calls over his shoulder to Cruz who gives his ankle a little squeeze in acknowledgement. Kelly presses on, finding the wall again, and it’s not long before he finds the next door, but this time it’s closed.

“Stella! We’re out here!” he shouts and bangs his fist against the door signaling to his fiance that he’s outside the door and that he and Joe are ready to come in.

The door opens just long enough for him and Cruz to pile inside and then it’s slammed closed behind them. The room is significantly less smokey than the hallway outside, it’s clear enough so that he can see both Nathan and Stella clearly along with the two unconscious victims lying on the floor.

“Mouch and Gallo, clear on the top floor. Heading back out now.” Gallo’s voice crackles over the radio as Severide makes his way over to the first victim. He catches the look of relief that crosses Stella’s face upon hearing that the other two members of her crew are safe.

“Me and Stella will get him, Nathan and Cruz, you two get the woman,” Severide orders, and everyone in the room shifts to do as they’re told. “We’re going to have to move fast. It’s pretty rough out there.

***

“Please, my neighbor Jerry is still inside!” An old woman says pleadingly and tugs on Severide’s sleeve, stopping him as he and Stella exit through the front door of the duplex. Tony and Capp had met them at the door and taken their victim off to the waiting ambulances. “Please, he lives on the third floor!”

Severide hesitates and glances up at the top floor of the duplex, there’s black smoke pouring out of almost all the windows, and there’s tongues of fire beginning to mix in. Upstairs is getting close to flashing over.

“I’m up for one more grab, if you are,” Stella says, glancing up at it too, probably making the same calculations in her head as he is. The chances of getting back out aren’t great with how hot the fire’s burning on the top floor is, and the chances of making a successful grab are even more slim.

“Chief, we got a confirmed rescue on the top floor, Gallo and Mouch must have missed them. Me and Kidd have enough air left to make the grab,” Severide says into his radio, letting it answer Stella’s question.

“I don’t like the smoke I’m seeing Severide. That top floor could flash over, and the chances of the vic even being alive-”

“There’s a chance chief,” Severide interrupts him. Two of the windows on the top floor aren’t belching black smoke which means there’s a good chance whatever room that is, is clear enough for someone to still be alive in there.

“You’re sure there’s a rescue?”

“Yes chief, we’re sure.” The old lady is still holding onto Severide’s hand and she’s crying now.

“You have two minutes. Not a second longer,” Casey replies after a second of hesitation.

“You got chief,” Severide replies and goes to get his mask back on. He glances at Stella who already has her mask back on.

“You ready?” she asks, bumping his arm with her fist as he finishes tightening the straps on his mask. He gives her a quick thumbs up, and she opens the door and disappears into the smoke; He follows her into the blackness.

Kelly keeps one hand on Stella’s back as they work their way up the stairs that start near the front door. The smoke gets thicker and thicker the farther up they go, until he can no longer make out yellow reflective strips on Stella’s gear; his only assurance that she’s still in front of him is that he still has his hand on her and the heavy thunk of her halligan hitting each each step as she sounds to make sure it won’t give out.

***

“Keep me posted on conditions in there,” Casey radios to his two lieutenants as he keeps a close eye on the smoke pouring out every possible opening on the top floor. It's already turned dark and deadly, and the smoke coming from the floor below it isn’t much better. He already regrets his decision to let them go back in. “If anything starts feeling off, I want you guys to bale out right away.”

“You don’t have to micromanage, chief,” Severide radios back, sounding more annoyed than concerned or worried about the amount of smoke he and Stella are undoubtedly trying to make their way through.

“It’s my job to micromanage,” Casey replies. “You guys just hurry, okay?”

“You got it chief.”

“Truck and Squad, I want you guys to get as many ladders on as many of those windows as you can in case Kidd and Severide have to bail out,” Casey directs to the groups of firefighters standing behind him. Most of them look like they’re ready to hop up and get back inside at a moments notice.

“They went back in?” Gallo questions, standing up from where he was sitting on the back bumper of 81. It sounds like a challenge, full of judgement and indignation.

“Yes, there’s another confirmed rescue on the third floor,” Casey replies impatiently. Gallo has been trying his patience since the house fire a couple shifts ago where he ended up sending the kid home, and it’s getting old fast.

“No, me and Mouch cleared that floor,” Gallo argues, he looks scared. “There’s no one up there.”

“You may have missed them,” Casey replies.

“Chief-”

“Go help put ladders on the windows,” Casey interrupts. He’s not in the mood for arguing with Gallo anymore.

“But-”

“Mayday, mayday, mayday! Firefighter down!” the whole fire ground freezes as Stella’s panicked voice crackles over the radio, her words barely descernable through the static, and Casey's heart drops into his stomach. Dread washing over him like a wave as fire starts rolling out the windows swirling with smoke, the top two floors are about to flash over. “Third floor, delta side, Severide’s down….it’s- Flashover!”

“Let’s go get them!” Cruz shouts and takes off toward the door.

“No one goes inside!” Casey shouts, before he even realizes the words are coming out of his mouth, but he finds he means them. He’s already sent two firefighters to their deaths, he’s not about to damn anyone else. Every instinct as a friend and a firefighter is screaming at him to send RIT to go get them, to go save his friends, but his years of experience tell him there will be no rescue, only a suicide mission.

“Chief!” Cruz protests as Casey pushes him back away from the building. He’s been a chief less than a year and he’s failed at the most fundamental part of his job, keeping his people safe. He’s not killing anyone else. It’s the worst decision he’s ever made, but he’s not caving.

“Kidd, can you get to a window and bail out?” Casey says, returning his attention to his radio.

“Negative… found a hole in the floor… going down…”

“Chief! You have to let us go get them!” Cruz shouts, and pushes against him. “They’re going to die! You have to let us save them!”

“No one else is going inside!” Casey yells and pushes the squad firefighter back. “I’m not letting anyone else die!”

He’s barely finished spitting the words out when balls of fire explode out of every window on not just the third floor, but the second too. He loses his grip on Cruz’s coat as a wave of shock hits him, but the other firefighter doesn’t move. Matt’s knees hit the hard concrete ground before he even realizes he’s falling; he can feel the waves of heat coming off the building as black smoke and evil red flames pour out the windows. He knows he should be giving orders, ordering 51 to hit the fire with everything they got, telling everyone else to do something- anything, but he can’t move. He can’t think. Stella and Kelly are dead. Even if she had managed to get her and Severide through the hole she found in the floor, the only thing it did was drop them right into another flashover. He can hear shouting, but none of the words register with him. He can feel tears stinging his eyes. They’re dead. They’re dead because he sent them back in. They’re dead and he’s the one who killed them.

#cf fic #chicago fire fic #stellaride fic #brettsey fic #kelly severide #blake gallo #matt casey #stella kidd #with the return of this fic #comes the return of me being on my bullshit #PLEASE REBLOG

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venusrosepetal · 7 years

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Our Girl. (Modern Military!AU) Intro.

Summary: (Modern!AU) Not long into your job as an army medic, you find yourself being deployed to Afghanistan on a six-month tour. You’ll find yourself in a whole new world of trouble while trying to adapt to your new normal, and maybe even find love along the way.

Pairing: Reader x Bucky Barnes - Reader x OC

Warnings: War, angst, blood, gore, death, PTSD, stereotypes, sexual indications, SO MUCH SWEARING, cockney, a little offensive maybe?

Word Count: 2,260.

A/N: This is based off a UK aired TV program called Our Girl. It’s a brilliant show and I highly recommend it to anyone who likes military themed shows. I know a fair wack about The British Military but NOTHING about American Military, therefore this will be British based. The fic will include British slag and Army slang which ill try to keep it to a minimum, but be aware some might slip through. Also, although this will be a “Love” story, it will focus heavily on the Afghanistan war and soldiers, so the ‘love’ might not always be obvious. Please, if you don’t agree with the military or war or any of that, just keep it to yourself and move on from this fic.

If you have any advice, concerns or anything please let me know!

This guy below, is Dylan ‘Smurf’ Smith. You’ll meet him in this chapter. :)

October 2013.

“Zero. This is Charlie two-one. Contact fatal.” your rushed voice pushed through the comms over your ear as your trained eyes struggled to see the three fatalities barely fifty-metres away. Hunching over, your boot-clad feet stomped hurriedly through the wet sand towards the first, of the three, severely injured soldiers.

Sergeant. Your eyes lingered on the three stripes stitched proudly to his chest as two fingers pressed firmly to the side of his throat. Pulse - weak. The racket from the battle around, filtered through your ears once more as you moved to the next victim.

Private. No stripes adorned this newbies heaving chest. The screams ripping from his throat would convince any sceptic he was possessed and the sight of his mutilated, bloodied, limb-less lower thighs could make the warmest blood run cold.

“That’s it Private! Keep shouting at me!” Your voice demanding and controlled despite the explosions happening less than 30 meters away. Your bare hand’s fumbled with two tourniquets, tying them painfully tight above the jagged flesh that used to be knee-caps.

“Keep looking at me Private! I’m gonna get you out'a here!” you finished strapping off the second tourniquet and whipped your head over your shoulder to the third whaling soldier. Moving quickly on your knees, you scattered over to him. Two Stripes. Corporal.

“Alright Corporal, I know your chest says otherwise, but right now, I’m the boss.” you yell sternly at the man before you, his chocolate eyes bursting with agony and he nods at you. “I’m gonna need you to man up OK?. Man the fuck up!” you shout over the explosions and rifle fire spread around you as you grab his right calf and cut the circulation a few inches above his now blood-soaked, fleshy ankle. “Stay low boss! I need to save the Private!”

Pressing the radio attached to your chest as you crawled back to the barely-continuous Private “Hello Zero! This is Charlie-two-one-T-two! Emergency evac requir-”

“INSURGENT!”

Dropping to your stomach skilfully and pressing the but of the rifle firmly against your solid shoulder, you fired off three rounds towards the enemy before crouching to your feet above the Private’s head.

“I’m getting you out Private!” gripping his webbing straps around his broad shoulders, you pull his trembling body to the safety of the troop Land Rover before ducking your head and sprinting back through the shower of bullets and explosions to do the same with the Corporal.

As you pull the one-footed-Corporal out of harms way, this whistle blew. Your eyes scanned the dead bodies that’s decorated the red washed battle-field as they rose to their dirtied feet, picking up the men with ‘lost limbs’ and walked towards the now fully conscious Sergeant.

“Good work Private L/N.”

“Thank you Sergeant.”

“So, why’d you pick the Private?”

“Well, he lost both legs and was losing a lot of blood. The other lad lost a foot, but he was fully continuous. I had to make a decision quickly.” you answered breathlessly.

“Thanks lads, go get some scoff and pick up your Oscars while you’re there.” He called laughing, now addressing the rest of the troop before bringing his green eyes back to you. “You know, you don’t just go to who screams the loudest.” his Mancunian accent thick.

“No, boss. I wanted to tourniquet the Private before I jumped on the Corporal.”

“Well, what about me.”

“ Took full impact to the blast, assessed, unable to survive.”

He looked at you for a second, his lips slightly turning up at the corners before nodding his head at your appraisal and sending you to scoff with the others.

After dropping off your kit to the block and showing, your found yourself sitting on the plush, brown leather sofa in the canteen with the Private from earlier.

“Honestly, the way you were screaming, I thought you caught yourself on one of them phoney IUD’s.” he just laughed at you as you praised his acting skills, shovelling more of his sandwich into his mouth. Shaking your head your eyes grazed over his shoulder at a Clerk walking in with her eyes set on you.

“Private L/N, the OC wants you in his office.”

With a simple nod, you excused yourself from your fellow soldiers and made your way to your OC’s Office. Rounding the corner you walked up to the open door, pulling your head back, spine straight and chest puffed, bracing up to the older, red-headed officer.

“At ease, L/N.” you relaxed at his command and made your way over to the large, mahogany desk. “Bit cold out there today, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yes sir. Absolutly boultic sir.”

“Well, you better pack your sun cream,” he smirked as you raised an inquisitive brow “You’re off to Afghan L/N and its 47 degrees.” (116F)

Butterflies erupted in your stomach as a jaw-aching smile was plastered over your face. Finally. Finally someone was telling your you’re good enough.

“You’ll be section Medic and replacement casualty. You’ve done well in you mission training, so you have tonight to say goodbye to your family. It’s not going to be easy L/N, you’re surving your country, do it and yourself proud. Brize Norton, tomorrow, eleven-hundred hours. You are to report to a Corporal Kinders , then to Sergeant Barnes of the USA and attach to his section under Captian Rogers . First impressions are important. Good luck Private .”

London 8:00pm

Saying goodbye to your family wasn’t as horrible for you, as you assumed it was for others. You lived in a run-down, three-bed, east London flat with your heavily pregnant mum, dead-beat dad and your four younger brothers and sisters. Your mum was a kind and loving woman, polar opposite to your controlling dad, who only cared for himself. He had been against you joining the army since the day you voiced your plans over a full-english in a grotty café. You knew he was only peeved because you’d no longer be there babysit while he went to the pub or because he couldn’t ‘borrow’ (and not return) money from you.

So when you arrived home that night, you received the exact reaction you’d expected.

Your mother cried, nestling her face in her swollen hands, but quickly turned blame on being hormonal, and your dad, he just huffed. He literally huffed. You sat on the floor and announced that, by lunch-time tomorrow, you’ll be on plane, to war, for six months and he huffs. His exaggerated breath causing his long, dark fringe to blow up, away from his eyes.

As for you younger siblings, only Lucy, who’s twelve, understands where you’re going. She promises to write every week and send you care packages with all your favourite nick bits, as well as making you promise to come home safely because she “couldn’t live in this nut house without you.” The others, who are all under five, scribbled you colourful picture and hugged your knees as your taxi pulled up to the pavement.

Giving one last wave to the balcony full people, you close the door to the cab and prepare for the journey.

. Brize Norton. 10:30am

Clad in your desert-camo uniform, brown boots and navy beret, you make your way across the large car park of Brize Norton RAF Airport. Daysack situated on your back and your plain black duffel bag hooked over both elbows you push open the door, passing your passport to the Clerk at the front desk.

Your wide eyes panned over the room, bodies dressed identically to you littered the walkways, chairs and some were even laid up the floors. You shimmied through the wall-to-wall soldiers, with your hand raised to a dark-skinned man calling your name .

“Private L/N.”

“Yes Corporal.” He passed you a bullet-proof vest equipped with a medic pouch strapped to the front and your circular dog-tags.

“I’m Corporal Kinders, welcome to the under five’s.” You followed his lead through the double doors and onto the airfield . “Right L/N, you’re with two-section.” He pointed to the small group of men on the far left using all four finger. ”You’re half the size of an average section as you’ll be joining Sergeant Barnes and a few US troops on the other side. So double in and join ‘em.” he announced nodding to the rowdy men. Around thirty soldiers stood in three haphazard lines in front of a fancy-looking camera laughing and joking. Dropping your kit by the door, you jogged over and stood with your section, looking at your booted feet.

“ Does it really take you massive cock-wombles this long to get in your sections for a bloody photograph!” Your eyes flickered up at the booming amercian voice, only to meet a well-built, extremely attractive, blonde Captain. His ocean blue eyes shot to yours when you let out an involuntary snicker.

“What’s are you laughing at Medic?” He boomed again. His authoritative tone and serious gaze making it harder to contain yourself.

“Cock-wombles sir.” you laughed.

Rolling his eyes and furrowing his blonde brows, he scanned the group again, raising his voice slightly. “For the benefit of our alleged new medic, who are we?”

“THE UNDER FIVES SIR!” the thirty-something soldiers all shout in sync, causing you jump slightly and roll your eyes at their enthusiasm. They probably practice in their bedrooms after hours. Twats.

“And why do you think we’re called that Medic?”

You peered your head forward and looked at your fellow comrades. No one here looked beyond thirty. “Because they’re all so young sir?” you questioned.

“And everyone of them is in my charge, So if you can’t hack being our medic and part of the team, I wont hesitate in throwing you out of that plane. Is that understood?”

“Yes Sir.” Nodding your head, all evidence of a smile was now void from your complexion. Captain Rogers walked forward into the centre of sand-coloured bodies for the photograph, but not before briefly giving you the stink eye. Great. Foot-in-mouth.

“I love a Medic me…”

“Yeah that’s because you’re sick in the head mate.”

“Nah I’m not. Fuck off Mansfield.”

Walking back through the airport , you were surrounded by men. You didn’t know you would be the only female in your section before coming here, and it wasn’t exactly a present surprise. Sitting down on one of the squeaking, collapsible chairs, you pressed the heels of you hands into your eyes, trying to dim the headache that was starting to come on.

“Well, if it isn’t my 'round the back of the Indian take-away in Guildford.’” a loud groan escaped your dry throat when you heard the voice behind you. As if this day could get any worse. You’d know that Welsh prick anywhere. Jumping up and spinning on your toes, you were faced with a small framed lad with bright blue eyes and medium brown hair. He was wearing the biggest shit eating grin you’ve ever seen that somehow manages to get even bigger when he sees your glum expression.

“We were bound to meet up again at some point. That’s the army for you.”

“Is that actually what you call me? Round the back of the Indian?” you question.

“Only for short, hm.” He shrugged, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I was going to text you back, but, we weren’t allowed phones in Catterick.” the pasty Welshmen commented.

“Oh yeah?” you retorted “You’ve got a little something on your chin.” His blue eyes widen slightly as he wipes quickly at his chin. You snort, batting the air with your hand.

“Oh no, it was just bullshit.” nodding with a sarcastic smile. He breathes out a short laugh before continuing with his taunt.

“I bet you don’t remember what they call me.”

“I do actually. Smurf. Because you look like one.”

“No I don’t!” He argued, feigning offense. “I’m gorgeous. Could'a had any one in you’re section that night, but I chose you.”

“But I chose you.” You mimicked causing a smug smirk to appear on his face. “Look don’t say anything too the others please. You know, first impressions and all that. It was just a once off and I don’t want this lot-” you point to the four men all sitting down laughing at each other. “-to think I’m some sort of slag.”

Smurf sucked a breath through his teeth, narrowing his eyes as they jump from you to the group of man-boys in front.

“I’m not sure I’m comfortable keeping the truth from my comrades.”

“Well, I’m a comrade now too , so you better not let me down.”

“Look, I’ll just say, I was on my phase two, went to pirbright for the rugby. Met you and a few girls and had a laugh-”

“That’s the truth.”

“-round the back of the Indian take-away.”

“No, Smur-” he laughed, stepping ahead of you, making his presents known to the group of man-children. Four sets of eyes staring at the two of you.

“Lads. A mate of mine-” he nodded to you, hands shoved deep into his pockets. “-Cockney,” a round of cheers erupted from the men. Usually you would have laughed, but you were currently in a state of panic. Giving Smurf your best impression of a sad puppy he continued. “-We’re alright, be nice to her. Happy?” he asked, turning to you.

“Ecstatic. You Welsh wanker.” He laughed, his blue eyes crinkling around the edges. You couldn’t fight toothy grin making it’s way to your face. Maybe this wasn’t going to be too bad after all.

TAGS: @beccaanne814-blog @just-call-me-mrs-captain @charlesgrey1875 @avengerofyourheart

@viollettes

#ourgirl #bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky au #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #captain america #mynameispaigex

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