Chapter Text
Maya’s POV
The phone rattles me awake. For a second I can’t even place the sound, then my hand finds it on instinct.
“We need you, Bishop. Now.” Beckett hangs up before I can answer.
Adrenaline slams through me. I’m already on my feet, pulling on the uniform I keep folded on the dresser corner for exactly this. Out the door in under a minute.
The firehouse doors groan as I push through. Beckett’s there, looking like he hasn’t blinked in hours.
“Get dressed. Ruiz is on his way. The team’s been stuck on a call all night, fire’s not even close to contained.”
I nod, no questions. Locker room. Gear on. Gloves half-tightened when Ruiz finally strolls in.
“Really, Ruiz?” I bark, half-tease, half-truth. “Pick it up, you’re making me look bad.”
Beckett tosses me the pickup keys and a slip of paper with the address. His eyes are heavy, voice flat. “Long night. Be ready.”
“Always am,” I shoot back, already moving.
Ruiz angles toward the driver’s side. I block him with a look, jerking my thumb at the passenger seat. “Don’t even think about it.”
He smirks. Knew I’d say that.
* * *
The sun’s been up for an hour. Fire’s finally out. We’re packing gear, dragging hoses back onto the rig. My shoulders ache, but it’s the good kind of tired: work done, people safe.
Except one.
She’s still there. Woman under the tree. Same spot she was in when we rolled up. Aid car already took her husband, unconscious, straight to the hospital. They tried to get her to go too, but she wouldn’t move. And she hasn’t since.
Most people clear out once the smoke’s gone. Not her. She just sits, staring, flinching every time something bangs or clatters. It pulls my eye more than it should. Something about her doesn’t fit.
Engine and ladder head out. I climb halfway into the pickup, hand on the door, but I can still see her in the mirror.
Theo raises his brows at me like, you coming or what? I ignore him. Can’t just drive off. My body won’t let me.
I grab a spare water bottle, walk over. She doesn’t even clock me at first. I crouch down, hold it out. “Hey. I’m Maya. Want some water?”
Her eyes snap up, brown, wide, scared. She takes the bottle. Her fingers shake.
“They took your husband to the hospital,” I say, trying to give her something solid to grab onto. But the word husband makes her stiffen, like I slapped her. “You didn’t want to go with him?”
Her head jerks in a hard no. “I can’t. I can’t.”
Okay. Not touching that. I shift. Different angle. “What’s your name?”
“Jade,” she whispers.
“Is there anyone I can call for you?”
She shakes her head again.
“Medics check you out earlier? Any smoke inhalation?”
“I’m fine.”
I give her a once-over; no burns, no blood. If she wasn’t cleared, they would’ve flagged her.
Still. Something’s not right. I’ve seen a lot of fire victims. She’s not just in shock. There’s something cracked open in her, something I can’t put a name to. But I can’t unsee it either.
“Do you need a ride to the hospital?” I ask.
Her voice rips through the air before I see it coming.
“No! I can’t! I told you, I can’t. I can’t see him. I can’t go.”
I flinch back, muscles tight, ready in case she lashes out. But she doesn’t. It’s not aggression, it’s panic, raw and jagged.
“Okay, okay,” I say quickly, keeping my voice steady. “You don’t have to go. You’re fine. But you can’t stay here either. House isn’t safe.”
She stares at me, chest heaving. Then softer, wrecked: “I don’t know what to do. I don’t have anywhere to go.”
“Friends? Family? Anyone you can stay with?”
Her face crumples. “I don’t have anyone anymore. He made sure of it.”
And there it is, the sharp edge in my gut. The puzzle pieces line up, even if I don’t want them to. My mouth gets ahead of me. “Jade? Is your husband hurting you?”
She freezes, eyes locked on mine. Like she’s weighing if I’m safe or just another trap. My pulse hammers. I hold her stare, not blinking.
A tiny nod. Barely there, but I catch it.
I glance back at Theo. He’s tapping the wheel, annoyed, like I’m wasting time. My jaw tightens. Waste of time? She just said the one thing no one ever wants to say out loud. How the hell am I supposed to walk away from that?
“Wait for me, okay? I’ll be right back. Promise.” I force myself to step away, checking over my shoulder every few steps like she might vanish if I look away too long.
Theo leans out the truck window. “What’s going on?”
“She needs help.”
He frowns. “Then why didn’t she go with the aid car?”
“Not that kind of help. It’s… complicated. Just give me ten.”
“Bishop, come on. We’ve been out all damn night.”
I shoot him a look that says don’t push me on this. He groans, throws himself back in the seat. Good.
I head back, crouch in front of Jade again. “Hey. Sorry. I’m here.”
Her eyes grab onto mine like I’m the last solid thing around. And that’s when it hits me; I have no idea what the hell I’m doing. Zero. I’m trained to pull people out of fires, not… this.
The words slip out anyway. “Has this ever happened before? I mean… have you told anyone?”
She shakes her head, eyes glassy.
My chest tightens. What the hell am I doing? Why did I even come over here? I’m out of my depth. Way out.
Her voice cracks through the silence. “I don’t know what to do. I’m all alone.”
“Do you… want to stay with him? Or do you want to leave?” The question sounds harsh in my own ears, but it’s all I’ve got.
Her shoulders sag. “I’m not sure.”
I scrub a hand down my face. This isn’t my lane. No training, no script. But I can’t just dump her back here and drive off.
“I’m sorry,” I admit, words low, raw. “I don’t really know how to handle this. Maybe… maybe you could crash at a friend’s place while you figure it out?”
“There really isn’t anyone,” she whispers.
God, I wish someone could tag me out right now. She’s cracking herself open in front of me, and I’m terrified if I screw this up, she’ll slam the door shut forever. I’m not the person for this.
But maybe there’s a place that is.
“There are shelters in Seattle,” I say, words rough, unpolished. “Places that help women in your situation. Let me check?”
The silence is brutal. My stomach knots. Did that sound like I’m just trying to hand her off? Maybe I am. Maybe that’s the smartest thing. Still feels shitty.
Finally, she gives the smallest nod. No better options. She can’t sit under this tree forever, even if I think she wants to.
I jog back to the truck, grab my phone. “She needs help,” I tell Theo.
He sighs, rattles off a couple shelters he knows. I start dialing. One dead end. Then another. Finally, a yes. A bed waiting. A plan.
I run back. “The Lighthouse Shelter. They can take you today. They’ll help.”
Jade nods, but it’s flat. Empty.
“I know it’s hard,” I say, trying to sound steady, even if it’s a lie.
Her voice breaks. “I don’t have anything. It all went up in flames.”
“I told them that,” I answer quickly. “They’ll set you up for now, clothes, supplies, whatever you need. You’ll figure the rest out with them.” I don’t know if that helps. It’s the only card I’ve got.
She drifts in and out — shaking her head, sighing, looking like the weight’s too heavy to carry. It punches me right in the chest. I don’t even know why it hits so hard.
“I’ll drive you, make sure you’re settled,” I add. Not sure if I’m a comfort or just more noise in her day.
After what feels like forever, she finally stands.
“My partner’ll take us back to the station. I’ll grab my car there.” My voice fills the silence because someone’s got to.
* * *
I park in front of a house in Seattle. Just a house—two stories, quiet street, nothing that screams shelter. For some reason, I expected something bigger, more official. This looks like the kind of place kids might ride past on bikes without ever knowing what happens inside.
Beside me, Jade sits pale and rigid, her hands gripping her knees like she’s holding herself together. I try to picture being in her place, walking up to that door. Leaving everything behind. My chest tightens. I can’t really imagine it—because I’d never let myself get here. Right? I left home when it became too crappy…
“Jade?” I say softly, trying to pull her back from wherever her head has gone. “It’s going to be okay.”
She gives me a small, doubtful smile.
“We can go in whenever you’re ready.” I keep my voice even. This choice has to be hers.
Time drags. Ten minutes, twenty. My leg bounces, my hands ache to do something, anything. But I hold still.
Finally, she shifts, her breath shaky. “Okay. I’m ready.”
Relief sweeps through me. Someone else can take over now. Someone who knows what to do.
We step out of the car, Jade lingering half a step behind. Her face is grave with exhaustion, but she’s here. That’s something.
When her hand brushes mine, she doesn’t look up. She’s not going to knock. So I do it for her.
The door opens, and a woman smiles warmly. “Hi, you must be Jade. I’m Carina.”
Her voice carries an accent I can’t place right away, gentle but confident. The air around her feels… steady. Solid in a way I didn’t know mattered until I see Jade lean, just slightly, toward her.
And, damn, she’s beautiful. Not the time, Bishop.
I look to Jade, hoping she’ll speak. She doesn’t. I catch a flicker of something in Carina’s eyes, gentleness, patience, and I feel a subtle shift inside me, a quiet hope.
Carina doesn’t rush her. Instead, she speaks slowly, her voice soft but firm. “I’m really glad you’re here, Jade. It takes a lot of courage.”
Jade finally lifts her gaze, her eyes meeting Carina’s, and for the first time, there’s a flicker of curiosity. I exhale, surprised by how small but significant the change is.
“Would you like to come inside?” Carina asks.
Before I can prepare myself, Jade’s hand closes around mine, tight, unspoken. Her fingers are cold, her grip desperate. It catches me off guard. For a moment, I want to pull away, uneasy with the physical contact. But I don’t. I squeeze her hand back, offering what little support I can.
Carina’s eyes shift to me for the first time. Her eyes are so pretty, dark but inviting and calming. Her whole being is comforting. I feel safe. What the hell? When she looks back at Jade, I feel the sharp tug of disappointment.
Carina’s smile softens, and she addresses Jade again.
“Would you feel better if…” Carina turns to me, and it takes me a second to realize she’s waiting for my name; her eyes searching my uniform for a nametag.
“Bishop?”
“Maya… Maya Bishop,” I provide.
She smiles at me and nods, like she’s greeting an old friend.
“Would you feel better if Maya came in with us?”
Hearing my name on her lips jolts me more than it should. Jade squeezes my hand tighter, silent but clear: don’t let go. I can’t. Not yet.
Carina steps back, opening the door wider for us. “Please, come in.”
Inside, the walls are lined with posters: messages about suicide, divorce, abuse, recovery. The weight presses down, makes my chest tight. I’m used to smoke and sirens; this feels heavier.
Carina gestures toward a door on the left. “We can go to my office.”
Jade hesitates. I step forward, nod at her, and gently guide her.
The office door swings open, and the air changes. Light filters softly through curtains, a rug muffles the floorboards, and a couple of armchairs sit in a cozy circle around a small table. Shelves hold books, a few plants, and small personal items. Everything feels quieter, slower, like someone has taken the time to make this space… a home.
Carina closes the door behind us, soft click making Jade flinch.
I trace circles over Jade’s knuckles with my thumb. “You’re okay. I’m here.”
We sit around the table. Carina starts explaining the shelter’s process. Her voice is calm, steady, patient. I find myself noticing the way she speaks, the rhythm of her words. Competent. Controlled. Everything about her says she knows what to do, and it makes me… aware. I catch myself straightening in my chair, trying not to stare.
Jade releases my hand to take the sheet Carina offers. She barely says a word, eyes fixed on the papers. I watch her closely, tracking every flicker of expression, every pause.
Carina doesn’t push. She waits. She explains. She reassures. And even in the middle of all this, I can’t help but admire that steadiness. It’s something I haven’t seen a lot, and I realize it’s the same thing making Jade relax, ever so slightly.
“Do you have any questions?” Carina asks gently.
Carina doesn’t rush her. She gives Jade time, but when she sees the uncertainty in her eyes, she speaks again. “It’s okay. It’s a lot to take in. Would you like me to introduce you to Jo? She’s another social worker here, and she’ll show you around. Show you your room. Would that be okay?”
Jade looks at me, seeking confirmation. I nod, giving her the silent assurance she needs.
Carina stands, opening the door. A woman enters, and Carina introduces her as Jo. I wave at Jade, and she slowly follows Jo out.
When the door closes behind them, Carina sits back down. Her gaze locks on me, calm, steady, and… intense. My chest tightens, and I notice my pulse quicken. Damn it. Not the time, Bishop.
“Thank you for bringing her here, Maya.”
Her words catch me off guard. I mumble, “Uh… yeah. No problem.”
“You said on the phone her house burned down?”
I nod, trying to keep my voice steady. “Yeah. We tried to stop the damage, but it was bad. We were there for hours. Jade was sitting outside when my team left. I… I couldn’t leave her there.”
“And her husband?”
“He was unconscious. They took him to the hospital.”
Carina’s expression softens, but she doesn’t push. She simply nods. “Did she tell you anything else? How did you know what was going on?”
I run a hand through my hair. “I don’t know. I just… felt like I had to help. She looked scared. As we talked, she hinted that her husband was isolating her. I guessed it might be abuse, so I asked. She… told me the truth.” I trail off. “I don’t know much about it. I didn’t know what to do. That’s why I called.”
“I’m glad you did. We’ll take good care of her.”
“I know.” I can’t imagine Carina doing anything wrong. “Uh… I mean, I’m sure you will. You know, because you’re the expert and all…”
My cheeks burn, and the words tumble out before I can stop them. “I mean, I’m sure you’ll do a great job. You know, because…”
Carina laughs, and for a second, it’s like the room gets lighter. I can’t help but smile, feeling my shoulders loosen.
“I should go,” I mumble, suddenly unsure of what to do. I stand up quickly, but Carina is already rising too.
“Yeah, of course,” she says, warm and steady. “I wouldn’t want to keep you from saving lives.”
I chuckle nervously. “No, it’s just… my shift’s over. I’m a physical therapist for the Opal Flames; the women’s hockey team. But I’m off today. I just didn’t want to take up more of your time.” My hands start to sweat.
Carina smiles, and I feel a jolt in my chest. Okay, breathe. Just… breathe.
“I do have to get back to work.” Her tone is light, but I catch the subtle way she’s stepping back, giving me space.
I reach for the door handle, and she speaks again: “I’d gladly share my time with you again, Maya.”
Wait. Did she just—? I freeze, eyes locked on hers. My cheeks flare hot, my brain scrambling.
“Red is a good color on you,” she adds, almost offhand, and then, “Hopefully, I’ll see you around.”
I fumble with the handle, nearly smacking myself in the face with the door. “Uh, yeah. Hopefully,” I manage, muttering as I walk out. My mind’s still spinning. What just happened? Was that… friendly? Or more?