#hawkami

Violet had her back turned to the firehouse when it happened.

One second, she was on the phone with Evan just outside the firehouse, wishing him a good night and promising to be there in the morning, just as he left for work, and the next she was swept off her feet, her body lifted off the ground and slammed back against the concrete, head cracking against the floor.

What just-

She turned around to see the rood engulfed in flames, smoke billowing out from every direction.

Without hesitation, she headed into the chaos, ignoring the splitting pain coming from at least four different places in her body.

Pain was good. Pain meant you were alive. Pain meant the damage wasn’t too severe.

She coughed as the smoke invaded her lungs, the moments of quiet that had occurred as the debris settled making way for multiple cries of help.

Cries that were coming from her family.

She pushed forward, someone whimpering very close to her on the left, right next to the ambo.

“Novak, that you?” she called out, making her way towards the whimpering just to see Novak out cold, Ritter the source of the whimpering.

“Stay, still,” she told him, making her way back around the ambo, the doors already open, trying to locate what she needed in the disarray. The medic in her took over instantly, and for that she was grateful – she couldn’t focus on anything right now but triage, the emotional side of trying to help them all be damned.

Her ribs screamed as she knelt down, giving Ritter a once over, confirming the firefighter had a broken leg, asking him to keep an eye on Novak and yell at her if her paramedic partner stopped breathing.

“Violet… you’re bleeding,” Ritter pointed out, but Violet couldn’t think about that.

“I’ll deal with it later. Need to find everyone.”

She spiralled outwards from Ritter and Novak’s position, doing as much as she could, conscious of the fact that she still needed to make it to the mess and the sleeping bunks – at this hour, everyone was scattered all over the Firehouse.

And she was the only medic standing.

She somehow managed to make it to the mess, having to crawl under the engine that had been tilted by the force of the explosion, almost stumbling over Stella, coughing so hard she could barely breathe.

Fuck, no oxygen to give her.

“Stella!” she got the firefighter’s attention, pointing to where she’d just come from.

The Lieutenant nodded, trying to say something, but giving up, just pointing further into the mess.

Violet didn’t let the splitting headache, nor her ankle or ribs stop her as she pushed through, spotting Kelly through a momentary gap in the smoke attempting to move one of the bunks.

“Kelly!” she got his attention, who just pointed under the bunk, where a pair of feet stuck out. Kelly groaned as he lifted the bunk, and Violet crawled under, hoping Kelly would not drop the goddamn bunk on her.

She didn’t clock who her patient was until she got a C-collar on them and she crawled back out from under the bunk, dragging the firefighter out from under, hoping that the precaution she’d taken was enough to not cause further damage to whoever her patient was.

Severide dropped the bunk just as she slid the firefighter out, the both of them just making out the features of her patient – Kylie.

An ugly gash on her head, her wrist crooked at an awkward angle.

He geared up to lift her, but Violet stopped him, pointing out that she hadn’t assessed him entirely, but she was certain that nothing should be jutting out of a hand.

“Been… in worse…” he coughed out.

“I can only imagine, Severide, but I can see you trying to mask the pain. Can you push through the pain and get both her and you out, or would you like me to give you something?” she asked, already rummaging around.

“Keep it. Someone needs it more,” he told her, and in less than three minutes, and Kelly had lifted Kylie like she weighed nothing, carrying her out as if he himself wasn’t injured.

Violet carried on making her rounds, slowly accounting for everyone. Everyone but…

Gallo.

He couldn’t have been outside – Violet had nabbed Capp’s radio, the firefighters of 51 having conducted a sound off led by Kidd. Gallo was the only one unaccounted for.

Where could he be?

The locker room – that was the only place she hadn’t reached yet.

She cursed as she stumbled over her ankle, stopping temporarily only to loop another metre or so of bandage across her side, the existing layer already bloodied on her right side.

That was an issue for later.

“Gallo!” she yelled out, hoping to hear a response. Nothing.

Nothing but the sirens that had been slowly multiplying beyond the ruined walls of 51 for the last ten minutes.

“Gallo, call out!” she shouted again, stumbling over overturned locker units.

The smoke was all but gone, but she was all too aware of the furthest wall that was glowing red and orange.

If Gallo was in here, he was running out of time.

“Gallo!” she called out again, disappointed to not have received a response, her search more frantic now.

She searched in more or less a spiral again, locating Gallo out cold, somehow only surrounded by the debris, but not pinned by it.

And yet, not so lucky – a metal shard jutted out of his leg, blood pooling around his ankle.

As quickly as she could, she pulled him out from there, tugging off his belt and tightly securing it in place.

Her radio crackled again, more CFD resources reporting they were on site. She looked over Gallo again under better light, realising it wasn’t just his leg that was the issue – half a dozen smaller shards of glass were jutting out of his arm and side.

No time to wait.

She took a deep breath in, copying a move she’d seen her colleagues perform a dozen times, a move that she’d asked Kidd to teach her until she could do it in her sleep, knowing that it could prove useful one day.

Today was that day; she hoisted Gallo over her shoulder, a yell escaping out of her mouth as she nearly toppled with her friend onto the debris-laden floor, her ankle screaming for her to give it a closer look.

As soon as I’m out.

She stumbled out of the locker room, relieved to see the firefighters who’d arrived on scene had made use of the massive new gap in the side of the firehouse, attempting to clear a path.

“Mikami!” one of them recognised her and helped her stay vertical as she walked out the last couple of metres to the outdoors flooded in hues of red and blue, at least fifty or so firefighters and EMTs working on the injured.

“Make way!” someone yelled, and two paramedics she recognised from Ambo 32 rolled up to her with a stretcher, the firefighter helping Violet to shrug off the still unconscious Gallo from her back.

Her body continued to beg for relief, the slowly wearing off adrenaline only making that call for rest louder and much harder to push out.

Everyone’s safe. Everyone’s out.

But they still need help…

She headed straight for the triage tent, proceeding to carry on treating her friends as best as she could, shaking her head at one of the other paramedics who offered to give her a once over.

“I’m fine,” she just got out quickly, moving along before she could hear any objections.

“Violet!”

She whipped around; her eyes meeting Evan’s across the half a dozen firefighters lying in between them. Even at that distance, she could see the worry etched into his face.

He crossed the tent towards her, and Violet saw his eyes slowly make their way down her body.

“I’m fine, Evan. There are more critical patients here that would appreciate your keen eyes,” she told him as she shuffled towards Kylie, the young woman still out cold.

She pulled out her stethoscope, trying to assess the young firefighter.

“You just walked over to Kylie with a limp and there’s blood dribbling down your cheek,” he told her as he crouched beside her, wiping the blood stream with the sleeves of his shirt.

“I’m alert, I’m talking in full sentences, and the worst I have right now is my headache. Don’t pull me off, Evan. They need my help.”

“Violet, from what I hear, you triaged and primarily treated every single crew member of 51. You’ve helped, now let me help you. Preferably without turning into Chief Hawkins and ordering you out of this tent?” he crossed his arms, waiting for Violet to respond.

Reluctantly, Violet agreed, and Hawkins led her to the far corner of the triage tent, forcing her to sit on the chair, shifting so she didn’t focus on anyone else but-

“-yourself. Did you get that?” he asked, and Violet shook her head, apologising, wincing in pain when she shifted.

“That didn’t look like your head, or your ankle caused that. Anywhere else?” he questioned, and Violet pointed towards her side, knowing that Hawkins would have found out about that injury soon regardless.

As soon as Violet shrugged off the fleece one of the medics had handed her after she’d passed of Gallo, she saw Hawkins’ eyes widen even before she got to peeling off her shirt.

“I got it,” he told her, apologising when he pulled the shears out of the med-bag and cut her shirt off her.

“More paperwork for you,” Violet managed to get out before another wave of pain washed over her, and she buckled over in the chair, only Evan stopping her from toppling out of it.

“Jesus, Violet…” Evan’s sentence ended there as he took note of the bloodied bandage, slowly unravelling it from around her torso to reveal a deep, ugly laceration that ran just above her hip towards her rib, dried blood sticking to the edges of the butterfly strips that Violet had hastily applied.

“You should have been treated first.”

Okay, so like, maybe not first, but yeah, objectively? Violet knew she would have solidly triaged herself as a yellow.

“They needed me – with Novak out I couldn’t… I couldn’t let anyone die if I could save them. Not them,” Violet told him.

“What if you ended up collapsing in there, Violet? What if you ended up hurt trying to pull someone out? I heard you carried Gallo out of the firehouse – do you know how much damage you could have done, how -”

“I know, Evan. But like I said, I couldn’t leave them. They were yelling for help. I treated myself, and I got to work, Evan. I’m okay now. And I won’t fight you sending me to Med.”

“Good. Here’s me thinking I had another battle to fight.”

“No. No. I’ll be honest, I think I’m going to -” Violet didn’t finish that sentence before her meagre dinner made a reappearance, right down Evan’s shirt.

Oh.

Fuck.

“No debate, you’re on the next ambulance out of here, Violet,” he told her, wordlessly unbuttoning his ruined shirt and holding her hair back as remnants of her lunch joined in too.

“Pike! Chrissy!” He beckoned to the two paramedics who walked in.

“No more Reds?” he asked, the two shaking their head.

“Good. Make sure Violet gets onto the next ambulance. I will reconvene with you at Med as soon as I can,” he told them, before crouching beside Violet, their eyes meeting again.

“I need to stay here just a while longer. Please don’t make Pike’s life hard?” he asked, and Violet nodded, too weak to do anything else.