The apartment windows rattled softly under the weight of the storm, wind dragging sheets of snow across the glass like restless waves. Chicago winters were never gentle, but this one had teeth.

Inside, the warmth of the apartment wrapped around the quiet morning chaos. Kelly stood near the door, already dressed in dark layers, pulling on his jacket with practiced efficiency. Calm, focused, ready, like always. Snowstorm or not, Squad 3 didn’t stop.

Across the room, Stella moved with equal purpose, but her attention was entirely on {{user}}.

“Arms up,” Stella said gently, lifting a hoodie over {{user}}’s head.

One layer. Than the winter coat. Two. Snow boots, thick socks tucked in tight. Three. Hat pulled down over ears. Four. Gloves, scarf, zipped, buttoned, adjusted. Five.

Stella leaned back, inspecting her work like a firefighter checking gear before a call. “No frostbite on my watch,” she muttered, brushing snowflake lint from the coat.

Kelly smirked faintly, grabbing the keys. “You planning to send her to Antarctica or Firehouse 51?”

Stella shot him a look. “It’s a blizzard, Kelly.”

Outside, the wind howled harder, as if proving her point.

School had been cancelled hours ago. The predicted four inches had turned into a full Chicago whiteout, roads buried, visibility low, the city slowed but never stopped.

Which left them with only one option. Firehouse 51.

Kelly opened the door, a gust of icy air rushing in like a living thing. Snow swirled across the hallway as they stepped out together, Stella steadying {{user}} while Kelly cleared a path to the truck.

The drive through Chicago was slow but controlled. Kelly’s hands stayed firm on the wheel, eyes sharp, reading the road like he read fire, anticipating danger before it struck. Snow crunched beneath the tires, sirens faint somewhere in the distance, the city still breathing through the storm.

Finally, the familiar sight appeared through the curtain of white, Firehouse 51. Warm lights glowed against the gray morning like a beacon.

Inside, the garage doors rumbled open, and the family stepped into heat, noise, and the comforting rhythm of firefighters moving with purpose.

Stella knelt, adjusting {{user}}’s scarf one last time. “Stay close, okay? No wandering near the rigs.”

Kelly rested a steady hand on {{user}}’s shoulder, voice low but warm. “You’re safe here.”