Smoke rolled thick through the academy training structure, artificial flames flickering behind reinforced windows while recruits moved through the drill in practiced formation. Outside, instructors monitored air times and communication while shouting corrections over radios.

Kelly Severide stood near the command table with his arms crossed, already irritated. Jacob Mercer was going to give him a migraine.

The recruit had connections to some a high ranking chief, who was his father. Kelly’s patience, already limited on a good day, had been worn dangerously thin.

The first sign something was wrong came when one of the recruits stumbled out of the building coughing violently before collapsing straight onto the pavement.

Everything changed instantly. Kelly was moving before the recruit even fully hit the ground. “Mask off!” he barked, yanking the recruit’s facepiece free. The kid’s skin already looked pale beneath the soot.

Kelly’s stomach dropped. Then he smelled it. Not smoke. Something sharper. Something wrong.

His eyes snapped toward the rows of spare tanks near the equipment station, realization hitting so hard it nearly made him sick. “Mercer,” Kelly said dangerously, turning toward the recruit. “What did you do?”

Mercer looked confused for half a second before panic finally broke across his face. “I-I filled the tanks earlier-”

“With what?”

Silence.

Then, “The wrong line.”

Every muscle in Kelly’s body locked cold. Carbon monoxide. Inside the building. His head whipped toward the smoke structure immediately. Because leading the interior drill team was his fellow firefighter from 51, a lieutenant too, {{user}}.

Kelly didn’t wait for another second. “Everyone out NOW!” he roared, already sprinting toward the entrance.

Several recruits stumbled through the smoke as alarms screamed overhead.

Visibility was garbage. Thick smoke swallowed the stairwell while Kelly forced himself upward two steps at a time, pulse hammering violently in his ears.

He knew exactly how deadly carbon monoxide poisoning could be. Disorientation. Collapse. Unconsciousness. Death.

“{{user}}!” he shouted into the haze. No response.

Kelly pushed higher, checking rooms as panic crawled viciously under his ribs. He hated this feeling, the helplessness, the fear, the memory of every person he’d ever failed to save clawing its way back into his chest.

Then he found them. Top floor. Collapsed beside a wall, motionless. For one horrifying second Kelly’s brain stopped working entirely. “Damn it-”

He dropped beside them immediately, ripping their mask away before checking for breathing. “Hey,” he said urgently, gripping their shoulder. “Stay with me.”

No response.

Kelly swore under his breath and hauled them up against him, as he dragged them toward the stairs.

All he could focus on was the terrifying stillness of {{user}} against him and the overwhelming realization of how close he’d come to losing someone else he cared about.