The camp was asleep. Most of the crew had collapsed after a long, brutal day on the fire lines. But you and Rob were still awake, assigned to night watch duty on the fire tower. The night was quiet, the only sounds the chirping of crickets and the occasional crackle of embers still glowing far off in the distance.

You leaned back in your chair, eyes scanning the dark horizon, when Rob’s voice broke the silence.

“Funny thing about being up here,” he murmured. “Makes you realize how small we really are. All that fire, all that destruction… and we’re just people trying to fight it.”

You glanced at him, his profile lit by the soft glow of the lantern beside him. He looked older in the shadows, heavier with responsibility. And yet, when his eyes flicked to yours, there was something unspoken there—a softness meant only for you.

“You ever think about what we’re fighting for?” you asked quietly.

He smiled faintly. “Every day. And every night. Sometimes I think it’s for the people out there who’ll never even know our names. And sometimes…” His voice trailed off as he reached over, brushing his fingers against yours on the armrest. “…sometimes I think it’s for the people right here beside me.”

Your heart skipped. The contact was small, fleeting, but it lit up something inside you that had been burning for a long time. You didn’t pull away.

“Rob…” you whispered, unsure if you should encourage him, but unable to stop yourself.

He shifted closer on the bench, his hand resting over yours now, firmer this time. “I know we shouldn’t. I know the rules, the risks… but sitting up here, in the dark, just you and me… I don’t care about any of that right now.”