A/N: Okay, so, ever since I found the Chicago shows years ago, I always thought there had to be a fictional universe where Gary Hobson would interact with the crews. After all... it is Chicago, The Paper had been around for decades before Cat showed up on Gary's front step, and Early Edition established that it would continue to be delivered for decades to come. So, logically, it's still around now, and the One Chicago folks get themselves in enough trouble that they certainly could use its help.

I've looked for stories with this dynamic many times, but I've never found any (so please point me to them if they do exist and I've just missed them!), and I have tried to write a few times, but nothing ever came. But now, here we are! And I have some other ideas that seem to be moving past just "idea" stages, so we'll see what happens. ;)

Standard disclaimers apply.

The fire roared around him, combining with the heavy smoke to obscure his vision. Even through his gear, he could feel the heat of the fire as it roared closer.

Even though it hadn't started crawling along the floor yet, it was already licking up the walls and along the ceiling. He could only hope it hadn't started in on the beam lying across his back. His right arm was stuck underneath him, and there was something heavy on his legs, too, trapping him in the middle of the blaze.

His helmet lay on the ground about a foot away, having been knocked off during the initial collapse that had trapped him.

It didn't matter how often he ignored the pain that roared up his thigh and along his spine every time he shifted to attempt to get out from under the wood that had come down from the ceiling. Nothing was budging.

He felt something bounce off of his back, then instinctively flinched when another piece of debris hit the floor just a few inches from his nose. The fire was in the ceiling and it was getting worse; Kelly knew it was only a matter of time before the entire building came down.

His radio crackled, and he could hear Boden barking his name. "Severide! What's your location?"

Kelly sighed and grimaced, knowing he had no way to communicate. He'd tried multiple times already, but the way he was pinned in the wreckage meant he couldn't reach it. His previous struggles to get to it had only left him panting in pain.

By Boden and Casey's tone as his colleagues tried to raise him on the radio, Kelly knew they were getting more and more worried as the seconds ticked by, but he also knew it would be suicide for someone to try to get to him. Boden had already given the order to pull out, and, if no one knew exactly where Kelly was, it would be almost impossible for them to find him.

There was a dull thud as another chunk of plaster bounced off the floor a couple of feet away, and then pain exploded in his head as something made contact with it. Kelly barely had time to register what had happened before everything went black.

Zipping his leather jacket against the wind as he ran, Gary sprinted down the sidewalk. The neighborhood was usually one of the more idyllic spots in Chicago. Not today.

Even from down the street and around the corner, Gary could hear the sounds of a fire crew battling a blaze. He risked slowing down to check his watch, the newspaper headline running through his mind: "Firefighter Trapped, Killed in Hardware Store Fire."

Gary had long since learned to trust The Paper ever since it started showing up on his doorstep. It was still crazy to think he got tomorrow's newspaper every day, but it was times like these he was glad he did. Hopefully he would be able to help avert another tragedy.

He slowed his pace as he neared the scene of the fire. The firemen never would believe him if he ran up and started trying to explain they needed to save their teammate. According to The Paper, the rescue squad lieutenant had been searching for victims and ended up separated from the other firefighters. The chief had ordered everyone to evacuate, and the fire would be out of control by the time the others were all out; no one would be able to find Severide before the roof collapsed and the entire building became engulfed in flames.

Gary just wasn't sure where current events were in the timeline of the article. He hoped no one had gone inside yet, but he knew deep down that probably wouldn't be the case.

He stopped next to the small crowd of neighbors who had already gathered a safe distance away. Scanning the scene in front of him, Gary took in the paramedics waiting by their ambulance and the various firemen scrambling around as they fought the fire.

His eyes darted back and forth, looking at the names emblazoned near the bottom of each of the firefighters' coats. Herrmann… Casey… McHolland… Capp…

No Severide.

Gary sighed heavily. He reached for the newspaper sticking out of his back pocket. Unrolling it, he quickly scanned the front page. The headline hadn't changed, but he only briefly glanced at the large text. He was looking for… there! There it was: "…corner of the building, just feet from a side door the flames had obscured…"

Shouts rang out from the fire crew, yanking Gary's attention back to the blaze.

"Where's Severide?" The tall firefighter whose coat read "Casey" was rushing toward a stocky man just coming out of the front door.

The fireman at whom the question was directed whirled around to face the building, and Gary could see the name "Cruz" on his coat. Gary's stomach dropped. This was it.

He had to do something right away, but what…

And then an idea sprang to mind, and he bolted for the side of a shop two lots away.

"Chief, just let me go back in!" Cruz was practically begging.

Casey and Herrmann had already argued their cases for going after Severide as well, and all of Boden's men were now watching him intently, worry and desperation evident in their faces.

Boden clenched his jaw and reached for his radio again. "Severide! Report!"

Nothing.

The chief had already given the order to evacuate. They'd been on-site too long already, and part of the roof had already collapsed. The employee they'd pulled out early on had said no one else was there, and Boden's men had just finished clearing the building.

Cruz had admitted he didn't know where he'd last been with Severide, and the place was quickly turning into a death trap. They could already hear muffled explosions as various flammable items in the store's inventory blew, and, regardless of how fast they'd gotten the hose on the flames, it seemed all they were doing was keeping it from spreading to the other structures nearby.

Boden's chest ached at the thought of anyone being trapped inside, much less one of his own guys. As much as Boden wanted to give the okay, he also had to weigh the risks. Could they find Severide in time or would he lose more men if he let them go?

He watched the flames licking through the front windows and the open door, praying for a response on the radio and knowing he needed to make a decision immediately. Boden took a deep breath and turned to the others. "I'm sorry, men, but—"

"Hey!"

Everyone turned at the shout to see a man running from behind the currently blazing building.

"Sir! Are you okay?" Casey was there in an instant, hustling the man out of the danger zone. "Were you inside?"

The man, who appeared to be close to Boden's age, was panting with exertion. However, despite some soot smudged on the side of his face, he seemed to be remarkably okay. His dark leather jacket and jeans showed no signs of having been in the fire.

"How'zat? No… no, I'm… I'm okay," the man gasped.

Casey kept a steady hand on the man's back as he continued to breathe deeply. The man seemed anxious to continue but needed a moment.

Boden frowned. There was something familiar about the man, but he couldn't quite place him.

"I… I heard a… a guy calling for help," the man managed to get out. He waved a hand toward the building as he took another deep breath. He seemed to be determined to get his message out despite his struggle for air. "I… I think he's right… right near the back door on… side."

Cruz and the others immediately turned to Boden anxiously. Casey still had a hand on the new arrival's back, but he was watching the chief as well.

"Chief, that could be Kelly!" Cruz exclaimed pleadingly. "He must've been trying to get out if he's that close to the door. You gotta let us go check it out."

Boden's jaw worked. "Are you sure?" he asked the man. When he received a quick nod in response, he took a breath and then turned back to his men. "Okay. Cruz, Capp, go. Be careful. You have one minute."

Neither wasted a second as they turned and ran for the building. Boden watched them, his brow furrowed in worry, then he turned back toward the man who had just come from behind the building. He had a few questions for him—starting with where the guy had come from in the first place—but the black-clad stranger was gone.

Casey threw a thumb over his shoulder as he saw Boden looking his way. "I sent him to get checked out by Dawson."

Glancing toward Ambulance 61, Boden saw the man headed that way. His eyes narrowed as he noticed a newspaper sticking out of the guy's pocket. Something started to click in Boden's mind, but, before he could do anything further, there was a commotion near the side of the house. Boden whirled back around, feeling relief and then dread wash over him as Capp and Cruz appeared carrying a limp form between them.

No sooner had they gotten clear of the hardware store than most of the remaining roof creaked ominously. Even amidst the rush of water as the hoses continued to spray the flames, it was obvious that the place was going.

"Everyone back!" Boden barked, sending all of his crew scrambling farther from the conflagration.

Firefighters rushed around at their various duties as Dawson and Brett rushed over from the ambulance. The paramedics quickly put a backboard on the ground in anticipation of the others carefully lowering Severide to the grass.

The lieutenant's eyes were closed, and, even through the ash clouding his face, it was obvious how pale he was.

The members of Squad had all stepped back, but the worry on their faces as they watched the paramedics work was hard to miss.

Gary stopped by the ambulance to wave off the paramedics' concern, but only because the two women had been watching him approach. If he'd had his choice, he'd have just ducked away from the scene without talking to anyone else.

Although they pushed when he declined treatment, his explanation that he'd been in the yard behind the fire and not inside the building had been enough to convince them to let him leave.

The dark-haired paramedic had looked suspicious of his explanation, but she'd just pursed her lips and nodded. And then, thankfully, there had been a sudden series of shouts as Severide was rescued, and both paramedics rushed over to check on their colleague. That left Gary free to slip away unnoticed into the crowd and disappear down the street.

Cruz swallowed as he watched Dawson lean over Severide.

The paramedic checked for a pulse as she tilted her head down to listen for the sound of breaths coming from the fireman. The relief was evident on her face as she sat back on her heels and reached for something in the bag Brett was offering her. "Kelly?" Dawson called, studying his face. "Kelly, can you hear me?"

"Cruz!"

He hadn't even realized he was inching forward until the sound of his name made him glance up.

Boden raised an eyebrow. "Let the medics do their job," he said quietly but firmly.

Nodding, Cruz took a deep breath and clenched his fists. He berated himself for having lost Severide in the first place. When they'd found him just now… Cruz's fists tightened even more. How had he managed to get separated from the lieutenant? If Severide didn't make it, it was all Cruz's fault.

Dawson was leaning over her patient again, doing something, and then she sat back on her heels with a look of obvious relief as Severide began coughing and gasping for air.

"Hey, hey," Dawson soothed, firm but gentle hands on his shoulders to keep him down. "Slow breaths, okay?"

At the order, Cruz found himself letting out a breath he hadn't even realized he was holding.

"How do you feel?" Dawson asked, studying the firefighter's pained expression in concern.

Beside her, Brett was busily checking vitals and examining Severide's right leg.

Severide made a face. "Like I got hit by a falling building."

"Funny," Dawson returned.

He attempted to wave her off. "I'll be fine. Don't worry."

Somehow, she didn't look convinced.

"You had us worried," Casey said. When Cruz glanced at the other man, he realized just how equally afraid for the lieutenant everyone else had been.

Glad Severide was at least well enough to crack jokes, Cruz smiled. "Good thing that guy heard you calling for help," he remarked, knowing the relief was evident in his voice.

"What?" Severide frowned, then grimaced. "Ow!"

"Sorry," Brett apologized.

"We might not have found you in time," Casey chimed in to explain. "But some guy came running around the building to tell us he'd heard someone calling for help. That's how we knew where you were."

At that, Severide paused in thought. He started to shake his head, but everyone saw the pained flash cross his face. He swallowed and then continued without the head motion. "I mean… I don't remember yelling at all." He coughed. "The fire was so loud, and I knew no one was inside… because of the radio calls. I just couldn't reach it," he added as an apologetic afterthought.

Cruz blinked. "But… then who was yelling?"

"I… don't know," Severide replied, frowning as he thought through the events of the fire. "Are you sure that's what he said? The last thing I remember before waking up out here was something falling off the ceiling and… hitting my head." He winced; clearly, his trying to figure out what had happened was paining him even more.

Cruz felt another pang of guilt at the realization.

Meanwhile, Dawson did not look pleased with Severide's revelation. She shifted out of his line of sight, then suddenly reappeared and shone a penlight in his right eye. He winced and instinctively tried to pull away, but the paramedic put a firm hand on his forehead.

"Hold still," she instructed. She shone the light in his other eye, then tilted her head in thought as she clicked off the light. "Hm, well, you definitely have a concussion," she informed him. "It's possible it's caused some sort of selective amnesia, but I can't be sure. A doctor should be able to tell you more."

Severide made a face in response, then glanced over at Boden, who was watching his team in concern.

"Do I need to be worried?" Boden asked Dawson.

"Nah, I'm fine, Chief," Severide tried to assure his boss. "I have a hard head," he added, although his weak voice undermined whatever joking tone he was trying to convey with the statement.

"Right." The older man raised an eyebrow. "Dawson?" he prompted.

"We'll take him to Med to get checked out," Dawson said, shaking her head in what seemed to be an attempt to hide her amusement. "He's going to have some nasty bruises, but I don't think he broke anything. I want them to give him a full workup just in case, and they'll need to keep him overnight to make sure nothing develops from the concussion."

That was obviously not what Severide had wanted to hear. "I'll be fine," he protested. "You said my leg isn't broken. Just need some rest, and I can do that much better at home than at the hospital."

The look Dawson gave him could have curdled milk. She shook her head and then turned to the others. "Okay, let's load him up," she instructed with a gesture to the firemen.

Brett gave Boden a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, Chief; we'll wait around to find out what the doctor says and let you know."

Kelly frowned as they loaded him into the back of the ambulance. Something didn't quite add up… He didn't remember anything between the falling debris and waking up to see a bright blue sky above him. He didn't think he had any other gaps in his memory, but he knew for sure he hadn't yelled for help. Honestly, he wasn't sure he would have been able to, not with the way that beam had been holding him down and restricting his breathing.

It didn't make sense, but thinking too hard hurt his head, so he didn't waste more time on trying to figure it out. There would be plenty of opportunity for that later, hopefully once the docs had him on pain meds.

Either way, he supposed he should be grateful. Regardless of what that guy had heard, if it hadn't been for him, it was highly likely Kelly never would have made it out of that fire.

He'd have to remember to ask the other guys for the man's info later. For now, he was just thankful his team was all safe—and that he was—even if he was headed to Med.

Maybe his luck would continue and April would be on shift.

Fin.