A/N: Le many hours were spent researching into this but hooray for some moving on with intimacy. It was worth it. Next week's is packed with goodness. Hehe. Meanwhile, I'm done with the manuscript for Vanilla and have a little more to go on the design aspect of things before sending it for publishing. I'm keeping everyone updated on my progress on IG hehe so if you want to know anything, send me a message there at hisangelchip.

Enjoy!

___________________

[Leroy]

The thing about holding boxes of condoms in your hands, one variety in each—I know, the benefit of choice, amirite—was that it somehow turned out to be a cool ritual favored by the fire gods above because all of a sudden, my pager was going off with the tone of a call-back for an emergency. Across the room, standing at the door, was my personal snowstorm. Also known as the person on the receiving end of said condoms. Or at least in the future, according to the fire gods. I hoped.

"Leroy, is that...?"

"Yeah," it took me a second to cross the room head down the hallway into his living room where I'd left my coat, still holding on to the palm-sized miracle boxes that were going to have to wait. I mean, depending on the call-back instructions.

I checked the screen of the pager, making sure that it was set to the right zone and tac channel for my station. It was. I rang the chief. Waited a couple seconds. Couldn't get through; the line was busy. Which meant other off-duty crew members had also been paged. Could be something big.

"Is everything okay?" He caught up from the bedroom and I turned with the pager in hand, night stuff in the other. His eyes went to the latter and with blushed ears, hurriedly retrieved them. "You focus on that. This can wait. Do you need the car? Is this a station call or um, a general one from the district?"

"It's from the station, which probably means the fire's in our area but maybe not big enough for a general call in the main dispatch channel." I scrolled the knob on the top of the pager just to check what was going on in the main dispatch. The same call. "Scratch that, it's big."

"Alright, be safe," he handed over my wallet that was over on the counter while I grabbed my coat and continued to ring the chief. "Call me if you need anything."

I was already heading down the hallway to the entrance, phone at my ear, calling over my shoulder. "Need you to decide which box we're gonna use!"

"Shall I ask the police on your behalf?" He called back.

"I am the police."

*

When Dispatch pages for a call-back, we're expected to be on the scene in less than thirty minutes with heavy traffic. It was eleven in the evening on a Sunday so a car wasn't going to cut it for an emergency. Chief returned my call a minute after I hit the road; the call lasted ten seconds and all I could make out over the blast of sirens and whatnot in the background was that the call-back was an all-hands situation and that if I was near the station, make my way there under five. And if I wasn't, to report directly to the scene. They'd bring my gear in the engine.

I was a ten-minute ride away, weaving through traffic and heading in the general direction of my station until the firefighter's GPS app on my phone alerted me to the exact location. One look and I nearly swerved.

All at once there was a ringing in my head, accompanied by the distant sound of sirens in the air; other stations sending their engines and ladders for backup, red and blue lights and the sharp, angry blast of noise whenever the police were nearby.

I'd left Chicken at home.

It would've been dangerous to top the speed I was already going at but I did anyway. It's not every day that shit hits the fan and you come back home to see your apartment building up in flames. At least that's not what I hope is happening.

Twelve wouldn't allow that. Not under our watch.

"Fire twelve engine twelve ladder twelve engine two fire nine engine nine engine three rescue one truck one mobile air one battalion one truck three battalion three and rehab seven for a structural apartment fire East Dulwich—"

I tuned out of dispatch and into station twelve's channel.

"—attack crew Zales and Hugh. Vent crew Park and Vance. Backup crew Jung and RIC crew Jack. Fire's coming from floor five, left-most unit. Interior attack on what seems to be a kitchen fire in the back. Could be a faulty gas line so watch out for flashovers. Forcible entry. Forcible entry. There are victims trapped. Rescue's in three minutes. We need ladders on all units at the back. All stations assist with evacuation of lower floors. Jaeger, mid-unit search, come in."

I didn't even park. My bike was left around the corner right before the road that was blocked off by backup and some of the crew members from other stations recognized me, shouting for chief who jerked a thumb at our truck.

There was noise. It didn't do well with the smell of ash and burnt plastic in the air and the assault of red, blue and white lights flashing with the sound of a woman screaming and a child crying. I was in full gear, checking my oxygen tank and grabbing whatever I was going to need for rescue because three minutes was not going to cut it. Chief was going to have to send some of us in and by the looks of it, Jaeger had been put on primary search and rescue before everyone else.

"Cox, I need you on ladder from the back, you hear?" "Engine nine where's the water can we get some water going on the side window now or attack and vent can't get the front door open. Ten seconds after the front door we'll get the front window pane open and check for victims." "Fifth floor mid-unit search, come in." "Cox. Ladder. Now."

"I'm here." I check in on the radio, godspeed towards the back where ladder was and where the windows lined up. The fire was coming from the unit beside mine; the one with the girl and her mother. Sometimes, grandparents. "There's a dog in the mid-unit. Jaeger come in."

Out front, chief was calling out black smoke and winds that were picking up, which meant that if we didn't hurry, the fire was going to spread in no time. It was dark out with limited lighting so I couldn't access the damage to the outer walls of the building in full.

On the other side where the open stairwell was, stations were helping out with evacuating residents on the lower floors. Jaeger was assigned to search the other unit on the fifth floor. Which was mine. And he hadn't come in.

"Cox, get up to the mid-unit through the window and check in. Jaeger, do not exit from the front door. I repeat, do not exit mid-unit front door winds have picked up fire is spreading I need water down the side of—ma'am. Yes, we're... Zales we've got confirmation on three trapped victims. One adult female. One elderly female. One child."

Engine nine was in charge of operating the aerial in the back for Jaeger to hop on and there was another, still in the process of positioning, meant to bring the rescue team for the unit on fire up to the fifth floor.

I wanted to get up because Jaeger wasn't coming in and there was no reason for him to be leaving us answered so the first thing that came to mind was the worst and if that was the case, climbing five floors worth of ladder was nothing. I got ready to mount.

Then I heard the barking.

"Hey Cox!" Jaeger climbed out of the window and onto the aerial—voice muffled by his gas mask. "Got your kid."

"What the fuck." I got out of the way, radio-ing chief to let him know that Jaeger was fine but not taking my eyes off Chicken. He never barks. "Why didn't you come in?"

"Your dog was going crazy in there and the feedback every time he barked killed me, dumbass." He put Chicken down as soon as the aerial came up to ground and my boy came right up to me. I gave him a quick, good rub. "Why the fuck are you so late? There's a fucking hole in your kitchen from the explosion next door."

Ah, fuck.

"Cox, Jaeger. Come in. Rescue's caught up in traffic. I'm authorizing forcible entry through the back window on fire unit. Get on the aerial. Zales, come in." "Park coming in I see three windows on the side, one for the kitchen, two others unknown, might be a bathroom and a bed. Permission to ventilate. Zales?" "No, it's too close to the kitchen there might be a direct fire under it. Any other options?"

"There's an upper floor," I radio-ed in while Jaeger and I climbed into the other aerial. "All fifth-floor units have an upper floor. It's not an attic. The primary bedroom is upstairs. There's one other bedroom on the main floor." "Copy."

"Aerial to drop Jaeger off on main and Cox on upper floor for entry while engine nine repositions for both main and upper floor windows for rescue exit. That's what I'm thinking." "Park, the window on the upper floor is your only other option."

"Authorized." "Copy." "Engine nine reposition! Fire three contain mid unit with mid-pressure hose and wait for truck one for backup. Make sure the fire doesn't spread."

We passed the fourth floor on our way up to the fifth on the aerial and I thought of Erlynn. It was eleven in the evening but I wasn't sure how late her shifts were for Sunday school and if she decided to eat out or stay in. Either way, the likely reason for a fire at this stage of its development had to do with either a faulty or illegal gas line that caused the initial explosion, faulty smoke detectors, and, or fire alarms. Sounds like a lawsuit.

Plus, at eleven in the evening, a family with a young kid like the unit beside mine was likely an hour into sleep. The fire had caught them off guard.

"Jaeger coming in. I'm reporting low to zero visibility. High heat at the back of the main floor. Searching for the bedroom." "You're going down the hallway," I acted as orientation, because at present, everyone else was short. "To the right's the stairs to the upper floor and the left's the bedroom."

I could hear Jaeger calling out for the victims in the dark downstairs as soon as I was dropped off on the upper floor window, which I'd broken and climbed through. "Low to zero visibility on the upper floor. I'm in one of the rooms. No open flame." "Copy. Park coming in. Ready to vent in three, two, one—"

Visibility increased slightly. Since smoke was always going to be worse on upper floors and anything that wasn't at crawling height, I was having the harder time. I started calling out for the mother and the kid, getting down low and heading for the door to the primary bedroom just off my memory of my apartment's layout.

"Hey! Can you hear me?" No answer.

The door was jammed. Something had fallen on top of it was my guess and the fact that the bedroom was directly above the bathroom and the bathroom, right next to the kitchen and the toxic smoke, black and in huge fucking clouds would've knocked anyone out after minutes of inhalation.

I checked the door for a backdraft just in case before breaking the handle—it was easy—and ducking back. Nothing came. I kicked the wood to move it out of the way but it was stuck against something. A shelf. I called out again.

There was coughing. Faint but audible. Further inside the room.

Smoke had made it so that it was impossible to make out what was going on or where the victims were. I radio-ed for Park to check the upper floor window again. "Flashlight. Something bright." "Copy." "Kid? Are you there? Can you see the flashlight?"

I hauled the shelf up and out of the doorway before getting back down and probing; careful because one of them might be unconscious and lying around. "Jaeger coming in I got an unconscious elderly woman permission to exit through front door." "Zales here, front door's coming in with water can you get through the window?" "Copy."

Wheezing. But muted—as though the person was in the next room or something but there weren't any rooms left. It's not easy to hear voices through thick-ass smoke or the loud roar of flames, screaming down below and sirens outside, no surprises. But with the faint coughing and wheezing, I made a guess. They were trying to hide from the smoke in a closet.

"Kid! If you can hear me, get out of the closet. You're safe. Don't worry." Nothing.

In seconds, my probe bumped into something that felt like the leg of a wardrobe. I felt for the handles and pulled it open; I had to be inches away from the victim to make out their faces. It wasn't the kid—it was the mom. "Hey. Hey it's gonna be okay. Can you—"

In her arms, the kid. Passed out.

The mom was the one wheezing, hand over her mouth and eyes nearly rolled back. I got into position for an over-the-shoulder. She reached out to stop me.

"Take her."

"Cox, come in. You see Park?"

I knew her as the kid who drew hopscotch patterns on staircase landings, played alone and called me 'cold'. That was all I knew.

"Please." The mother used whatever strength she had left in her to hand me her child as though she knew she wasn't going to make it and I nearly fucking flipped her off.

"You're not leaving him behind."

Throwing this back at her didn't feel very sudden it just felt, somewhat, like a promise because my job here was to get people out safe and that meant both of them. Not just one. I forced the mother onto my shoulder and used my free hand to get the kid under my arm. She was a ragdoll—fully unconscious. "Coming in. Park, you there?" I followed a blinking flashlight towards the window. The distance felt way longer than it should've been.

Everything was dark and pungent and slow and heavy and the heat was pretty much a killer, just in case anyone happens to think that firefighters ever get used to how hot things can get. It's the feeling of instincts on fire.

I could hear the whir of the aerial as soon as I got to the window and the noise of the outside was back; loud and sharp, piercing through my helmet and drilling right into my head. "Get the girl first," I told Park, leaning out and handing her over. He grabbed her right on. There was another guy on the aerial. Some backup from another station. He took over the kid.

The window was too small to get the mother over to Park while she was still on my shoulder so I had to duck and transfer her into my arms, positioning her head-first out of the window so that Park could grab from under her arms and pull her out.

Right before I steadied my grip and leveled her head to the window ledge, she looked me in the eye and whispered: "Who's him?"

__________________

"Sorry about your place," Zales stopped by the back of the EMS I was resting at, handing me a bottle of water. "Guess you're never getting any sleep now."

I snorted, taking the bottle and nodding in thanks, unscrewing the lid and pouring it over my head instead of actually drinking it. As though she knew that was gonna happen, she handed me another.

"At least Chicken's okay." I looked down to my left, curled up by my hip and fur covered in soot. "Everyone else?"

"Two residents and one other guy from station nine currently being treated on scene. The mom and kid you got out are in emergency at KCH. Pulse is going."

"The grandmother?"

"...not as good."

We went quiet. Chief came round to check in on me before giving the obligatory statement to the press that have arrived on scene. What remained of the apartment building was the smell of ash and debris. Water all over the pavement as though a thunderstorm had just passed. People crying. At least the lower floors still seemed... functional.

"So uh, heard you won't be having gas or electricity for the next week or two," Jaeger dropped by with a shock blanket over his shoulder, shirt-free like myself. He had a bandage on the side of his face that ran along his lower jaw. "Or a roof." He laughed.

I rolled my eyes and would've given the other side of his face similar treatment had I not been completely spent. "Fuck off."

"Want a lift back to the fire house?" Zales offered, only because she had a thing for Chicken and wouldn't admit it. "Unless you have a place to stay for the night."

I paused. Technically, I did. But the time now was already one in the morning and shift starts at six. Park stopped by to toss me my phone I'd left in the engine and immediately I was on to the missed calls and texts. Of course, they were from him.

Pictures and words were swimming so I skipped the scroll and went straight for the dial pad, giving him a call but also wondering if he was already asleep. He picked up on the first ring.

"Leroy!" Still can't get over how good he sounds over the phone. And in person. "I—are you alright? On the news; there were live updates on Twitter by the official... never mind, are you... I mean, that was your apartment, wasn't it?"

"The one beside mine, yeah." I sighed, waving curious eyes and wriggling eyebrows aside so that they'd scram. "The damage is... pretty bad. There's a hole in the wall. Half the house is flooded. I think they beat your record of busting my kitchen." I made light of the situation, thinking he would be bought over and get to sleep soon.

I should have known that idiots would never be able to hold a candle to geniuses.

"Ah I see. So I suppose you'll be sleeping in water beds and wading around in your bathing suit for the next week or so?" I could already imagine him rolling his eyes. "Leroy. Judging by the images and clips up on Twitter, repairs will take at least two weeks! Not to mention, the gas and electricity a-a-and water. Are you... I mean, do you plan to... I suppose, move in with Annie for the time being or...?"

He was testing the waters. And I was waiting.

"They're full. I mean, not that I mind the couch but I don't think I wanna hear Rexi and Annie going at it in the middle of the night or... the day, yeah you get where I'm going. The fire house is open, so. Maybe two weeks' worth of zero sleep, waking up at every alarm going off twenty-four-seven. Sounds..."

It was Erlynn. I spotted her getting out of a hackney and stare at the apartment building before turning, by coincidence, in my direction. Our eyes met. She started towards the EMS vehicle I was in.

"W-well. That definitely does not sound very ideal and I worry for your general health! Not that, I mean, not that I disapprove of firefighting or your decision to stay at the fire house for the time being but all emergency personnel are human too and resting is critical to—"

Once Erlynn was right in front of me, she started the pacing. "Oh my fucking... I can't believe the entire building is! What the fuck. What happened? Are you okay? Is my flat o—no, scratch that—do you have a place to stay? I mean, I'm not stepping foot in that mess but we could get a room or something just for tonight. Somewhere down—"

"—your wellbeing and... though you may deny this, you looked completely exhausted and you know, what with the long drive this morning and and the rush, and... I was wondering if you'd like to—"

"Yes." I stood up, sweeping the scene, making it easy for him. Water. Engine. Truck. Water. Police. People. Erlynn. Press. Engine. Water. "You're here?"

"Oh great. Okay, there's a place in South Kensington I'm gonna—"

He sounded surprised over the phone. "Yes. Um. Yes, I am. How...? How did you—"

"You said I looked exhausted." It was weird, talking to him like this. And missing him still. I was gone for barely three hours. "Did Vanilla Julian White just break the law to drive here without a converted license?"

"Ajgflkdjlaksjmnfwhnef—" was him over the phone and I laughed. Breathless.

"Wait for me." I hung up, grabbed my shit and then noticed Erlynn was standing by the EMS vehicle with her arms folded and a frown on her face.