BTW, I started this story a long time ago (as you can see by the dates ;) but I am just now re-editing through it to see if I can pick it up again and finish it. I make no promises, but I would genuinely love to finish this story, so I'm going to give it a try.

(There is a glossary at the end of the chapter for any of the terms that may not be familiar)

Twenty five hundred degrees...Emma was wondering if she heard that right. It was hard to make out every word her instructor spoke inside the burning room, but she was pretty positive he just said that flashover temperatures could reach twenty five hundred degrees in their fully developed stage.

She knew she was hot, that was for sure. She kept having to straighten out her legs and arms to relieve the burning in her knees and elbows. She didn't even want to think about the sheer amount of sweat that would be soaking her uniform when she finally got to take off her turnout gear.

For Emma though, it would always be worth it. This was one of her last trainings in the academy before it was time to test and graduate and start her career. She was already set to join the Boston Fire Department, just as soon as she completed school, and that day couldn't come fast enough.

She was ready to be a firefighter. She was ready to run into burning buildings and carry out little kids and resuscitate dogs and march in parades to the sounds of cheers and applause. She was ready for this and nothing would convince her otherwise. Not even her instructor who was adamant in his teachings to reiterate the same facts.

"This is a controlled environment, people. The real deal will not be like this. Flashover temperatures will fry through your coats and melt your face masks. If you see the fire licking across the ceiling like that, well...it's already too late."

Emma rolled her eyes but quickly moved to the front when "next!" was yelled and it was her turn to sit front and center and experience the conditions of the deadly force in action.

It was fascinating. Breathtaking, figuratively and literally. Flames shot over her head and she wasn't thinking about the level of heat. Heat that no matter how uncomfortable, was no match to how bad it would be in an uncontrolled environment. No, her discomfort was at the back of her mind, right there with her personal safety and any other normal, human reactions one should experience in life and death circumstances.

Emma's eyes shone bright like the flames surrounding her and nothing could have been more important to her in that moment. It was finally her time.

2500°

She tried to force a smile on her face as she helped Toby to his feet and led him to the stretcher waiting outside his room. He was a frequent flier that called at least once a week to say his chest was hurting again and this time, surely it must be something serious.

Unlike the boy who cried wolf, Toby got the full response as anyone who reports having "crushing" chest pain would get, each and every single time he called 911. Emma, along with every other firefighter and paramedic on scene, knew Toby learned the key phrasing to use to make it sound like he could really be having a heart attack. They also knew very well, it was all one giant, steaming pile of bull shit.

No matter, every time Toby called, they all showed up. First a fire engine, consisting of a crew of three, then the two man medic unit right behind, and they would all walk up the six flights of stairs every week. They'd then go through the motions of running a twelve lead that would show a perfectly normal sinus rhythm, starting an IV, giving him four baby aspirin and then 0.4 milligrams of Nitro that would all have no real beneficial effect for the pseudo chest pain. He always asked for the morphine next, but thankfully, they could generally use the excuse of a quick transport to warrant not giving it to him.

Today was like all the others. Emma tried not to focus on the ache in her back as she helped carry Toby down the first flight of steps in the stair chair they were forced to use, per their protocol. Yet again, unlike the boy who cried wolf, Toby got the full response. Because, as they were all reminded by their medical director, should Toby ever truly be having a heart attack and they make the man walk every step himself, they'd all be liable and their dream jobs stripped from them.

Six months into the job, this is not what Emma thought she'd be doing. She wanted to be wearing fire gloves, not latex and she wanted to be carrying a hose, not a two hundred pound, drug seeking, pathological liar who will make welfare pay for his trips to the ER before he cashes their next check for junk food and new video games.

Unfortunately, this had become Emma's reality. Her calls were about ninety percent medical, where all she did was help move and carry sick or fake sick people. She knew this job was down and dirty, but she thought she'd be covered in ash and soot, not vomit and feces. Then if that wasn't discouraging enough, the other ten percent of calls were all either general alarms that always turned out to be nothing, or even more frustrating, alarms that were called in as real fires and ended up being families who burnt a chicken on the stove and had everything taken care of by the time they arrived.

Those were the worst because every single time, Emma would throw on her gear in mere seconds before jumping in her seat and trying to control her breathing and heart rate as excitement of a structure fire nearly overwhelmed her. She'd think that this was it — this was finally the real deal and her time to shine and she'd be out of the truck with her tools in hand before the vehicle was even parked. But then of course, came the same frustrating conclusion that once again, there was nothing there and nothing to do.

By the time they finished up, it was late enough for bed and Emma was more than happy to move to her bunk. She still had seven hours left of her twenty four hour shift and after a day full of trainings for fires that weren't coming and less than serious medical calls, Emma was completely exhausted and happy to sleep through until the end.

So of course it was the moment she finally drifted off to sleep after the long day that the lights came on and the tones dropped.

"Disorienting" doesn't truly explain it. Probably because it just wasn't strong enough of a description.

Emma was trying to follow orders; she knew her role as the probie and it was to listen and do exactly as she was told. The problem is though, that you can only do what you're told if you can hear what you're being told.

Breathing the air from her tank, Emma could hardly understand the man in front of her yelling for her to "pull the fucking line, already!" let alone understand anything coming from her radio. It was all a garbled mess and she silently prayed nothing critical would be said that she'd miss.

She grabbed the hose off the truck and tried to fan it out as best as she could outside the front door, per her training. But then she looked up at the building before her and knew there was no way of reaching the fire supposedly on the third story. She was just thinking that through when her coat was grabbed and her body forced around to face her officer, a man nearly seven feet tall, with his name badge reading, Lieutenant Stevens, even higher than Emma's eye line.

Even through their masks and hidden by darkness, Emma could see the anger in his face.

"What the fuck are you doing?! It's a high rise and the fire's on the third floor! Grab the fucking pack and get to the stairwell!"

Emma could feel her heart pound and knew the heat in her cheeks wasn't from the flames. She was mortified to have already screwed up only moments into her first fire and between that and the anxiety from the real life and death situation before her, Emma felt lightheaded as she ran back to the truck.

She wanted to stop and collect herself, but she couldn't. This was it — this was everything she always wanted and it was time to prove herself. So Emma grabbed the high rise pack and managed to shoulder the weight before all out running into the building and straight to the stairwell.

She saw her lieutenant again before he followed behind her with an axe and halligan in hand. She didn't pause to check in — she had to prove herself. So instead, she ignored the strain in her legs as she ran up the three flights in all sixty pounds of gear with the hose over her shoulder and just gave it everything she had.

She stopped at the floor just below the fire and dropped her pack before immediately pulling it apart. She felt relief when her LT took the hose to lay it out as she hooked up to the standpipe and the line was set for water in seconds. Her officer went ahead and radioed their progress and the need for water and in only a few more seconds, the line was filled and they were ready to go.

"Okay, just ahead there, that's the address that wasn't cleared. We're starting there with a primary search for any victims and if we don't find anyone, we'll go from there, okay?"

"Okay!" Emma nodded and shifted to get the hose in a better grip. She looked ahead at the door Stevens pointed to and took in a deep breath.

She just saw the silver "108" addressed on the white door before the lieutenant slammed it open and Emma rushed into the flames.

Short chapter to get into the story. I want to know if this is an AU people want to read, so please review and let me know. Many things in regards to Emma's calls or the way she or other speak will come in part from my own experiences as a firefighter, such as the fire training in the beginning of this chapter. But this is obviously fiction overall. Thank you for reading.

Glossary:

Flashover = when all combustible material simultaneously ignites and fire spreads rapidly across an entire space. There are signs of impending flashover, such as when fire starts "licking" across the ceiling. The survival rate of those trapped inside when it occures is nearly zero.

Turnout Gear = The protective clothing firefighters wear when dealing with life threatening emergencies, mainly fires. Consists of helmet, nomex (hood), face mask, coat, pants, boots and gloves.

12 Lead = An EKG. By using a portable cardiac monitor, you can look at a patient's heart to determine if something abnormal is happening. Always used on chest pain patients to look for abnormalities.

Probie = probationary firefighter or "rookie".

Standpipe = In high rise buildings, there will be a pipe that goes all the way up the building inside so that firefighters just connect their hose to the connection at the base of the building and then reconnect a new hose to the floor they need (typically the floor below the active fire). This is so they don't have to pull a hose up several stories.

"Pack" (high rise pack) = A specific set of hoses pre set up to be carried to ='and connected to, a standpipe.

Halligan = a hand tool generally used in conjunction with an axe. The set together is commonly referred to as an "Irons Pack" and is generally always taken into any fire.