Part 1

Part 2

I apologise for the brevity of this part and the move from 'of 3' to 'of 4'; the 40k character limitation isn't actually 40k characters, and I couldn't fit it into three parts. Part 4 up tomorrow.

One week later.

Why did all the fire stations have their doors closed all the time? It would be so much easier if she didn’t have to go through the front desk.

“Excuse me… good morning. I’m looking for Michael. Is he here today please?”

The man behind the counter was writing and took a moment to look up. “Do you have a last name?”

“Um… no. I’m sorry, I don’t. He did give it to me, but… I’m afraid I’ve forgotten.” There was quite a lot going on that night. And they’d taken his jacket away from her at the hospital, refusing to give it back. Why didn’t I take his badge number? She’d asked herself that so many times.

The man looked apologetic, spreading his hands helplessly. “Then I’m sorry, miss, I can’t give out that kind of information. I’m sure you understand.”

“Oh… yes, I suppose.” He nodded and looked down, picking up his pen again. “Wait! Er… sorry… it’s just that… I was at the apartment block last week. You know, the one with the crane? I… I met him there. Could you please…”

He shook his head, not even looking up, “I’m sorry miss, I wish I could, but… we have to protect the privacy of the men in our company.”

“Oh… yes, I understand.”

Vicki sighed in frustration. This had been the eleventh station she’d tried, and the answer had been much the same: sorry-not-sorry, you can’t come in.

Dammit, why can’t I remember his name?

She’d e-mailed the fire department, expressing her desire to thank the firefighter who had rescued her. They’d replied quickly, appreciating the sentiment and that they’d pass it on but no, they couldn’t release personal details.

There were dozens and dozens of fire stations that could have been in range for the events of the previous week. The frustrating thing was that none of them would even talk to her, so she could have unknowingly asked at the correct one and been turned away.

Dejected, she turned to leave and almost collided with a large man as he came through the door. He danced back with surprising reflexes.

“Oops, my bad. Sorry, miss.”

“No, it was my fault, don’t worry.” Nothing for it but to keep trying. She wouldn’t give up. Not until she’d found Michael, and he told her, himself, to leave him alone. Not until then.

The thought made tears spring to her eyes.

Next station, then. And the next, and the next, as long as it took. Damn their stupid policies.

“Hey… hey miss?”

She turned back. The large man she’d almost walked into was looking at her. “Are you okay?”

“Oh… yes, I’m fine, thank you. Just a bit frustrated.”

“You sure you’re okay?” He took a step closer. “Hey, don’t I know you?”

Vicki frowned. “I’m sorry, I don’t think so…”

“Yeah! I remember. You are that girl Mike brought down from the apartment block last week.”

Her heart soared with hope. “Um… yes, yes, I am. Do you know Michael?”

“Sure. He’s in my company. One second.” The man turned away and yelled across the station. “Amar! Where’s Mike?”

“Upstairs! You want him?”

“Yeah! Can you grab him?”

“Sure, Captain.”

The man turned back to smile at Vicki. “Technically, we don’t encourage vict— civilians from reaching out after events. But, between you and me, Mike has been… well, let’s just say, seeing you here, I don’t think we should let ‘technically’ run our lives, eh?”

“No, Sir, I don’t think we should let anything run our lives.”

“Right.” He grinned at her. “Mike’ll be down directly then. I’ll leave you two to catch up.”

“Thank you, Sir. Thank you very much.”

He grinned and walked off with a wave.

Vicki took a deep, steadying breath. Three days of thinking. Thinking really damn hard. Four days of looking… and she hadn’t anticipated it taking so long. And now the moment. She should’ve thought harder about what to say. She should’ve…

“Vicki? Is that you?”

She turned. He’d entered through a different door, catching her by surprise.

He looked much the same as she remembered, only… brighter. But then, it wasn’t a dark and rainy night illuminated only by torch light reflection or strobes. Her eyes hungrily traced the contours of his face, reconciling what she saw with the memory she had of him. He was more handsome now than he had been then.

He took a step closer. “You okay?”

She realized she hadn’t said anything, she’d just been staring. “Sorry. I’ve… I’ve been looking for you for a while, and, well… now you’re here, and… and I had all these things I wanted to say to you, and…” she glanced toward the counter where the man sat, blatantly eavesdropping. He diverted his gaze when she looked at him, but the damage was done.

Michael’s lips twitched and he took a step closer. “Joe? I’m taking this lady across the street for a coffee. Beep me if I’m needed, okay?”

“Oh, right. Sure, Mike.”

He gestured to the doorway, “After you, milady.”

Vicki stepped out into the Fall sunshine, her heart racing as Michael came up behind her and placed his hand on the small of her back. “There’s a really shit coffee shop just across the road.” He pointed, and she saw a run-down looking café with a few empty tables in the window. “Best thing about it? No one ever goes there. Want a really shit coffee?”

She smiled at him. “I would absolutely love a really shit coffee.”

“Well then, milady, let’s jaywalk.” The traffic was light enough that his proposal was easily accepted, and together they skipped across the road.

The proprietor of the coffee shop looked surprised to have patrons, glancing up from where he sat reading a tabloid newspaper. Michael showed Vicki to the seat in the window, then left her to fetch the drinks.

She slipped off her coat and sat in one of the dingy, plastic seats, staring out of the grey window at the passing traffic.

She could rarely remember feeling happier… or more apprehensive.

He was back quickly with two white porcelain mugs. “I’d have asked what you wanted but having been here a few times I can’t tell the difference between their cappuccino and their americano, so it probably doesn’t matter.” He grinned, placing a cup before her, and sat down with his. A pile of sugar tubes and thin wooden stirrers followed, but she didn’t take one and neither did he.

“Which is this?” she asked, eyeing the drink before her.

“Cappuccino, in theory.”

She took a small sip, then lowered her cup and ever so slightly pushed it away.

He chuckled. “I did warn you.”

“I remember wishing I could take you for a coffee when we were back in my… apartment.”

“And now here we are. Have you managed to find somewhere to live?”

“No… I’m in a hotel. It’s basic, but adequate.”

“I’m sorry about your apartment.”

“Oh, that’s okay. I was renting. It’s really no big deal.” She reached out and selected a sugar tube; something to fidget with. “I lost a few things, of course… but little I can’t replace, in time.”

He nodded, “It’s funny how nearly everything ends up replaceable… except memories.”

“Yes,” she agreed. She looked up at him, “But then you can always make new memories.”

“That’s the point, isn’t it? Making new memories?”

“Yes,” she smiled. “I made some about a week ago that have stuck with me.”

“Did you now? Sounds interesting. Tell me about them.”

“Oh well.” She looked down at the tube in her hands, wrapping it around one finger in an absentminded way. “Not much to tell, really. Got stuck in a dragon’s cave, had to be rescued. You know, the usual.”

He grinned. “Sounds terrifying.”

“It was… fun.”

He sobered, leaning forward slightly. “Fun?”

She kept her eyes on the table. “Yes. Fun.”

He glanced at his watch. “I shouldn’t be away too long. Bad form.”

“Yes, of course…” So that was that, then. The paper tube split, spilling pale brown sugar across the table.

“I finish at six. Pick you up for dinner at seven thirty?”

She looked up at him in surprise, hope soaring in her heart. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

She smiled, “That would be lovely. Yes, please.”

They swapped phone numbers – she had a new phone and had saved her own number as a contact. Her old phone had been lost. She gave him the address of her hotel, too.

He stood. “I’ll see you this evening then, milady.”

“I’ll be waiting, Sir Knight.”

He grinned and made his way past her to the door.

She turned. “Michael?”

“Yes?”

“What’s your last name?”

“Antonio. My great-grandparents were Italian. Yours?”

“Marsh. My great-grandparents were… alligators, I guess.”

He laughed. “See you later. Looking forward to it.”

“Me too.”

 ~

Vicki went shopping. Her entire wardrobe consisted of two pairs of jeans, two t-shirts, two sweaters, functional underwear and a thick coat borrowed from a friend. All that she’d needed, living out of a basic hotel room, but nothing that would do for this.

Her insurance company had already assured her that the payout would be significant, so she could afford to splurge. She had some savings in the bank, and this seemed as good an excuse as any to dip into them.

She found an attractive black midi dress and a pair of ankle strap heels. A lace bra and panty set in a deep midnight blue completed her purchases. The latter was perhaps optimistic, but… she could always use more lingerie.

There was far too much time left before seven thirty, so she filled it with a trip to the salon and had them tidy up her hair. She was still back at her hotel by five.

Though she’d eventually had it returned, her laptop had been destroyed by rain (so much for that
backpack being waterproof) and work had insisted she ‘took as long as she needed’. That had been more than fine when she’d wanted to traipse around fire stations, but it left her with little to do now but twiddle her thumbs. She took a long shower, paying particular attention with her razor blade, then lay down naked on her hotel bed to wait.

“It was… fun.”

He’d sobered and leant forward slightly. “Fun?”

Was that the wrong thing to say? Perhaps he thought she’d been flippant. But… it had been fun, dammit. Scary, sure. Embarrassing as all hell when he’d first come in. But it had been… sexy. Exciting.

Fun.

“You just want my hand on your ass again, don’t you?” he’d murmured.

She remembered the platform moving beneath her, the feeling of her panic threatening to overwhelm.

“Anything! Distract me!” she’d said.

“Shall I make you beg?”

Yes, ‘fun’ wasn’t a bad word. But he’d made her feel safe, too. Perhaps she should’ve said that.

“I’m safe because of you, Sir Knight. I’ll only be safe with you.”

She’d already told him. As it was, she had her job cut out to persuade him she wasn’t some insane, love-sick puppy that could only fixate on him because of the intensity of the experience they’d shared.

No… fun was the better word.

She glanced at the clock. Why was it moving so slowly?

 ~

“Well, don’t you look lovely.”

She smiled. “You’re easy on the eye yourself, Sir Knight.”

“Thank you. Do you like Italian?”

“Have you ever met anyone who doesn’t? Seriously?”

He took them to an intimate Italian he clearly knew well, a place she wouldn’t have glanced at twice from the external décor, but of course that meant little, and the food proved to be outstanding.

They talked freely and quickly, keen to learn about one another in the way that is so fresh and exciting the first time.

She asked him why he’d chosen the job he had, and he was eager to explain.

“I lost my grandfather in a house fire. I was nine. I’ve been physically fit my whole life and enjoy the physical challenge. But mostly, I just want to help people, to save lives.”

He was so passionate about it that she realized it wasn’t a job, it was a vocation. A part of who he was.

“It suits you well, Sir Knight. Do you often use it to pick up damsels?”

“Just the once.”

They talked about plans for the future, maybe a family and the hope to move out of the city and more into the country. Not too far, but far enough. On every point they agreed.

They shared a love of physical activity; hiking and running. He enjoyed climbing, she liked diving. Each was keen to show the other their sports.

The waiter came with the dessert menus which they both dutifully accepted, then both declined.

“The coffee here is far better than at the other place,” he suggested tentatively.

“I’d invite you back for a coffee at my place, but I’m living in a dingy hotel room.”

“I’m not,” he said, “and the coffee I have is pretty good too.”

“Is that an invitation, Sir Knight?”

~

 Part 4