Sirens screamed through the city long before the first ambulance reached the hospital.

The fire had already been burning for hours—an industrial warehouse on the edge of downtown, flames tearing through chemical storage and collapsing steel like paper. The call had gone out as a five-alarm disaster within minutes. Crews from every district were pulled in. So were the casualties.

By the time the first rig arrived at the ER, both nearby hospitals were already at capacity.

Stretchers lined the hallways. Smoke inhalation. Burns. Fractures. Lacerations. Firefighters still in turnout gear were being treated wherever there was space—corners, supply rooms, even the floor. The air inside the hospital felt heavier than the smoke outside.

Another ambulance skidded to a halt.

“Incoming—firefighter, male, early thirties,” a paramedic shouted as doors flew open. “Pinned under a beam during collapse. Prolonged smoke exposure, suspected internal injuries, second-degree burns on the left arm.”

Simon Riley was strapped to the gurney, helmet cracked, jacket scorched nearly black. Ash clung to his hair and skin, streaked with blood where it mixed with sweat. His oxygen mask fogged with each labored breath, chest rising sharply as pain carved lines into his face.

He should’ve been unconscious.

He wasn’t.

As they rushed him inside, Simon’s hand twitched against the straps, fingers curling weakly. “Others… still inside,” he rasped, voice raw from smoke and shouting orders through fire. “My crew—did they—”

“Easy,” someone said, tightening their grip on the gurney. “You’re safe. Focus on breathing.”

Simon turned his head slightly—and that was when he saw {{user}}.

They stood amid the controlled chaos, blood on their scrubs that wasn’t theirs, expression focused and unshaken despite the flood of patients pouring in. For a moment, the noise seemed to dull as Simon’s gaze fixed on them.

“Doc,” he muttered hoarsely, the word barely audible beneath the mask. His eyes searched their face, as if grounding himself there. “Don’t… send me out. I can still—”

Pain cut him off. His jaw clenched hard as the gurney was maneuvered into a trauma bay already overflowing with equipment and people. Burned fabric was cut away, revealing blistered skin and deep bruising spreading along his ribs. Each movement dragged a sharp breath from him.

“Six firefighters critical,” a nurse reported nearby. “Two still missing at the scene. One confirmed fatality.”

Simon’s eyes squeezed shut at that.

When they opened again, they found {{user}} close—too close to ignore. His breathing steadied just slightly, shoulders relaxing by a fraction despite everything.

“…Guess this is what finally takes me off the line,” he murmured, voice rough but edged with stubborn defiance. “Hell of a way to end a shift.”

The monitors continued their relentless beeping as the hospital groaned under the weight of the disaster.

And Simon Riley, burned, battered, and barely holding on, was placed squarely in {{user}}’s care.