A/N: Alright so I usually keep my author's notes pretty short. This is my first Chicago Fire fanfic, it is a Severide/OC with hints of the other characters and if I continue it'll probably be updated weekly/biweekly... The pronunciation of the OC's name is Cayson (KAY-son) Valois (Val-wah)... Thank you for reading. Constuctive Critisism and reviews are welcome but any flames will be deleted.
Grey eyes watched, wide with horror as brilliantly hued flames licked upon the duplex, a long tapered finger finding the cameras shutter and pressing it repeatedly. Vehicles and bystanders alike swarmed the scene, ambulances and fire apparatus deftly maneuvering through the chaos. Crouching to peer through the viewfinder as a wing of auburn hair blocked her vision, she gasped, flames shooting through the duplex as it was vented. Hastily switching out her lenses, she zoomed in with the high powered one, capturing the expressions on the faces of those below.
There were the usual; confusion, horror and fear, followed by one that caused disgust to roil in the pit of her stomach. Staring with a look of awe and excitement was a man, a backpack looped loosely over his shoulder. Zooming out, the photographer swallowed thickly, capturing the image of a line of firefighters working to bath the flames in high pressured water. Continuing to shoot until the scene cleared she sighed, gathering her belongings. Silently descending the stairwell she'd used to access the rooftop, she hugged her sweater closer, beginning to make her way home. Anxious to pull up the photos she kept her camera close.
One Week Later-
Fingers tugging uncomfortably at the strap of her shoulder bag, Cayson Valois eyed Fire House 51, listening to the movements coming from inside. Following the curve of the wide driveway, she bit her lip, stopping outside a door marked 'entrance' before continuing. Carefully tugging opened the door, she hesitated, flinching as a short, curly haired man appeared before her.
"Um, hello," she stuttered in greeting. "I um, I'm looking for whoever's in charge.
He chuckled, motioning her further into the large garage. "Truck Lieutenant, Squad Lieutenant, our paramedics or Chief Bowden?" he listed seemingly amused.
Her neat eyebrows scrunched in confusion, Cayson shrugged. "I don't know, whoever was in charge on scene for the duplex fire last week on Moore and 5th."
Tsking his tongue he thought back. "Well, Lieutenant Casey was Second in Command until Bowden showed up, but EMT Dawson was fielding injuries."
Her frustration rising Cayson prepared to leave, stopping short when a deep, masculine voice cut off any retort she could have made.
"Otis, give the girl a break," someone chuckled, approaching from behind her and causing her to turn slightly, her breath catching when she caught sight of the only thing keeping her from walking away. "I'm Lieutenant Severide, what can we do for you?"
The saying "tall, dark and handsome" seemed to have been invented to suit this man. His navy blue station shirt was pulled taut over a muscular torso, revealing the fact that he was obviously in shape and either possessed a series of six pack abs or that he was smuggling paint rollers beneath his skin. His short sleeves rode up ever so slightly to reveal smooth, tan, thick biceps. Subtly giving him a once over she blushed, averting her eyes as she took in his cheek bones, chiseled jaw covered in a day old scruff and other worldly blue eyes. Fingers itching to either reach for her camera or trail through thick, dark hair sprinkled with silver, Cayson felt a heat pulsing through her veins.
Realizing that she'd been asked a question, Cayson fumbled over her words and the buckled keeping her bag closed. "Well, you see, I was taking pictures last week over on Moore and 5th when the fire happened, you know the duplex? Anyone I stayed around trying to get some good shots when I noticed something odd. I brushed it off figuring I'd check it in editing but I thought this was something to bring to you guys, not a gallery." Oh, God she was rambling. "Is there a computer where I could plug in? Please?"
Confused, he motioned for her to follow him, gently placing a large, warm hand on the base of her spine as he guided her through a series of hallways until he reached a small office, booting up the laptop that sat on the desk. Perching herself on the rolling chair she gently removed her camera and her SD card, plugging it into the slot on the side of the keyboard. Fingers delicately stroking the keys in order to pull up the images left on the card she enlarged the one she wanted once it had been found, pointing to what she noticed.
Placing a palm beside the computer and one on the back of the chair Lieutenant Severide leaned over her, peering intently at the screen through squinted eyes. Cursing slightly under his breath he reached for the phone nearby, his arm brushing the bare skin on the top of Cayson's hand. Having a quiet conversation, he hung up a moment later, followed by having a large black man enter the tiny office.
"What's wrong Kelly?" he asked, crossing his arms over his barrel of a chest. Glinting in the fluorescent lighting was a nameplate, and if she squinted, she could make out "Chief W. Bowden." Eyes following a pointed finger he glowered. "Is that?"
Cayson couldn't help but pipe up. "A Zippo sir, and there's a bottle sticking out of his back pack."
As if noticing her for the first time he blinked. "I'm sorry and you are?"
"CaysonValois, I took these photos during the fire on Moore and 5th last week," she repeated for what felt like the hundredth time.
Face becoming ashen beneath its dark tone the Chief winced, causing a look of concern to flutter briefly through "Kelly's" eyes.
" Ms. Valois, could you please print out that image, along with any other's you have of that particular bystander?" Chief questioned softly. Pulling Lieutenant Severide into the hallway for a brief moment, door shut behind them, the chief said something that obviously disturbed his younger counterpart. Reentering to find six sheets of paper being extended Chief Bowden thanked Cayson, retreating to wherever he had appeared from.
Rubbing the back of her neck nervously Cayson ejected her card, inserting it into her camera and cleaning up. "Did I do something?" she questioned, feeling slightly out of the loop.
"No, not you. Thanks for stopping by, Miss," the lieutenant trailed off.
"Cayson, just Cayson."
"Thanks. Can I walk you out?"
Declining the offer and retracing her steps with her head held high, Cayson inhaled deeply once she reached the sidewalk, enjoying the smoky, manly scent that clung to her sweater from where he'd guided her earlier.