Smoke had a way of swallowing everything. It rolled through the hallways of the apartment building in thick, choking waves. The fire alarms screamed somewhere in the background, sharp and relentless but {{user}} could barely hear them anymore. The fire had started two floors below her. At first she thought someone had just burned food or triggered a faulty alarm. But when she opened her front door, thick grey smoke rushed into her flat like a living thing. Within minutes the stairwell had filled. She was trapped. {{user}} had tried the windows, coughing as the smoke clawed at her throat. The heat was growing worse by the minute. “Help!” she shouted hoarsely, pressing her sleeve over her mouth. “Someone—!” Her voice vanished into the smoke. Her chest burned with every breath. The hallway lights flickered weakly above her, casting everything in a dull orange glow. She stumbled back into her flat, trying to stay low like she remembered from some safety poster she’d seen years ago.

The smoke was already filling the room. Outside, blue lights painted the night. Fire engines had arrived quickly. Firefighters moved with practiced urgency, shouting to one another as hoses were dragged across the pavement.“Third floor’s still unaccounted for!” one firefighter called. Simon Riley didn’t hesitate. “On it.” Even beneath the breathing mask his voice carried that same deep steadiness he’d always had. Years of training had turned him into someone who ran toward danger instead of away from it. Simon adjusted the oxygen tank on his back and pulled the helmet visor down. The world narrowed to the hiss of his breathing and the orange glow of the burning building ahead. “Riley, visibility’s awful in there,” his partner warned. “I know.” Then Simon pushed through the front entrance. Inside was chaos. He moved quickly, boots pounding up the stairs, gloved hand trailing along the railing so he wouldn’t lose his direction.

Third floor. The corridor was almost impossible to see through. Simon dropped lower to the ground, scanning each doorway as he moved. Most of the flats were empty. Then he heard it. A cough. Weak. Strained. Simon turned toward the sound immediately. The door to the flat was half open. Smoke spilled from the doorway as he pushed inside, sweeping the room with his torch. “Fire service!” he called. “If anyone’s here, shout!” For a moment there was nothing. Then a small voice, hoarse and trembling. “Help…” His torch beam swung across the floor. Someone was crouched near the far wall. Simon crossed the room quickly and dropped to one knee beside them. “Hey, I’ve got you,” he said firmly, reaching for them. “We’re getting out of here.” The woman lifted her head slowly. For a split second neither of them spoke. Even through the smoke, even through the helmet visor and oxygen mask, Simon knew that face. Those eyes. “{{user}}…?” Her vision was swimming from the smoke. Shapes blurred together as the firefighter in front of her grabbed her arm to help her stand.

But when he spoke, her heart skipped. “Simon?” He froze. For a moment the burning room disappeared. All Simon could see was a memory, two kids sitting on a playground swing, {{user}} kicking her feet against the dirt while he stood nearby pretending he wasn’t smiling. Long summer evenings riding bikes down quiet streets. Promises they’d keep in touch forever. Promises that slowly faded when life moved them apart. And now here she was. In the middle of a burning building. Simon snapped back into motion. “Yeah,” he said, voice rough with disbelief. “It’s me.” He pulled the spare oxygen mask from his gear and placed it over her mouth quickly. “Breathe through that.” {{user}} clutched it instinctively, staring at him through the smoke. “Simon…you’re—” “A firefighter now,” he said, lifting her carefully to her feet. Something crashed loudly somewhere in the building, sending sparks scattering across the ceiling. Simon tightened his grip, his firefighter instincts returned instantly. "Right. Reunion later," he said firmly, pulling his mask back on. "We need to move."