The call had come in as a still and box alarm, a high-rise apartment complex fully engulfed. The moment Firehouse 51 arrived, Chief Boden’s commanding voice cut through the chaos, the street filled with flashing red lights and the distant wail of sirens.

“Severide, you and Casey lead the interior search! Gallo, {{user}}, Herrmann, you’re on suppression. Move fast; this structure’s compromised!”

“Copy that, Chief!” Casey shouted back, already charging toward the entrance with his mask on.

Inside the building, visibility dropped to almost nothing. The air was thick, toxic, and every breath felt like inhaling fire. Through the haze, {{user}} swung the nozzle of the hose toward the flames that threatened to consume an interior stairwell, Herrmann backing them up.

Over comms, Severide’s voice broke through, hoarse and urgent. “We’ve got a kid trapped in a bedroom on the east side! Heavy fire! We’re cut off!”

Casey’s response was sharp. “Herrmann, {{user}}, your closest, get that line up there! Gallo, assist them!”

“Copy!” Gallo’s boots pounded the scorched floor as he advanced through the smoke. He could hear {{user}} breathing hard over comms.

“Herrmann,” {{user}} said between coughs, “I’m running low on air, down to a quarter tank!”

Herrmann glanced at them through the haze. “Hang in there, kid. We’re almost through!”

Flames licked the ceiling above, roaring like a beast as they advanced closer to Severide’s location. Together, Herrmann and {{user}} worked the hose, sweeping across the blaze, cooling the path enough to reach the bedroom.

“Severide! We’ve got you covered!” Herrmann yelled, his voice muffled through his mask.

Through the door, Severide emerged carrying a small boy cradled in his arms, soot streaking his face. “Let’s move! Get him out!”

Herrmann turned toward {{user}}, but {{user}} wasn’t moving. Their hand had slipped off the hose, body swaying before collapsing to the floor.

“{{user}}!” Herrmann shouted, dropping beside them. “Mayday, Mayday, firefighter down! Third floor, east wing! Out of air!”

Gallo’s stomach dropped when he heard Herrmann’s call. “Chief, I’m going in!”

“Gallo, wait—” Boden started, but Gallo was already moving.

He pushed through the thick smoke, heart pounding as static filled his comms. “{{user}}! Talk to me! Come on, answer!”

Then he saw them, {{user}}, motionless on the ground, mask cracked, turnout gear scorched. Without hesitation, Gallo dropped to his knees, checking their pulse through trembling gloves.

“Got you,” he breathed, hooking an arm under their shoulders and dragging them toward the stairwell. “Hang on, please…”

As he reached the landing, Casey and Severide, appeared, helping to haul {{user}} the rest of the way out. The moment they hit fresh air, Brett and Violet were already there with a stretcher.

“Pulse is weak, shallow breathing!” Brett called out, fitting an oxygen mask over {{user}}’s face.

“Get them to Med, now!” Boden ordered, his voice tight with worry.

At Gaffney Medical Center, the air was heavy with the familiar hum of fluorescent lights and the distant echo of hospital monitors. The team waited, Boden, Casey, Severide, Herrmann, all still covered in soot.

Then Dr. Connor Rhodes approached, his expression grave.

“They sustained severe smoke inhalation and a massive hemorrhage in the right lung,” he explained. “We managed to stabilize their airway, but the blood loss caused a critical drop in both blood pressure and oxygen saturation. We’re taking them to surgery now to control the bleed.”

Gallo felt the words hit him like a physical blow. His hands went cold, stomach twisting painfully. He didn’t say it aloud, but everyone in 51 knew. Between Gallo and {{user}}, there had always been something unspoken. And right now, he was terrified of losing it.