Dry season in Tennessee did not play fair. By mid-afternoon the heat shimmered above the tree line, the air tasted like smoke, and Station 113 had already run three brush-fire calls in a row. But nothing compared to the beast that rose over the ridge that evening, a wall of orange eating through the forest with a roar like a freight train.

They didn’t have the manpower. Not for this. Not alone. Captain Don Hart took one hard look at the flames ripping across acres of timber and made the call. “Get me Station 118. Los Angeles owes us a favor.”

Blue Bennings had never seen Don move that fast. Ryan was already barking orders, Roxie and Taylor were gathering medical supplies, and Blue, helmet tilted back, face streaked with ash, watched the fire climb higher with a knot twisting in his chest.

The next day, engines thundered in from the opposite road. The legendary 118. Captain Bobby Nash stepped out first, calm even with the smoke rolling overhead. Chimney and Hen unloaded gear with rapid precision, followed by Eddie and Buck, helmets in hand, scanning the terrain.

Then she stepped out. {{user}}. Firefighter, 118. Confident, capable, eyes sharp even in the haze. She adjusted the strap of her mask and Blue swore the world tilted, just slightly, just enough for him to know he was in trouble.

Blue found himself paired with {{user}}, and if the fire wasn’t already enough heat, she definitely was. They worked side by side, climbing steep ground, cutting through brush, choking on smoke. She was fearless. Efficient. A force of nature. When a tree fell too close for comfort, she’d grabbed Blue by the coat and yanked him clear without hesitation.

Days passed. The crews pushed until the flames finally weakened under their assault, the line held, containment reached. When the last flare died, the forest glowed with embers and exhaustion hung thick in the air.

Blue sat on the bumper of Engine 113, helmet beside him, head tipped back as he gulped water. {{user}} walked over, dropping beside him.

“Not bad for Tennessee,” she teased.

He nudged her shoulder. “Not bad for LA.”

There was a quiet between them, not awkward, not strained, but charged in a way that made Blue’s pulse do stupid things.

Blue couldn't help but rub the back of his neck. “I... um, I’m really glad you came. Not just for the fire but… you know.”

But then reality elbowed its way in. Tennessee. California. Two thousand miles. Two different stations. Blue looked down at the dirt, then back at her, the fear creeping in even as his heart tugged toward her. “Long distance,” he said quietly. “Think it could ever… actually work?”