Through the Flames by SparklingTwilight, O - S
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Through the Flames by SparklingTwilight
Summary: One fateful night, 29y/o Edward must make the decision that haunts
every firefighter's worst nightmares. In choosing between his life and that of
another, life altering repercussions arise. Rated M. Contains graphic descriptions
of fire. HF Warning.
Preface
The alarm bells sound just before the break of dawn and the silent air is
shattered by the shrill ringing. A series of tones can be heard throughout the
house followed by the disembodied voice of a dispatcher as the men inside the
sleeping quarters jump from their beds, hastily sliding on their boots — the only
part of their uniform they parted with before collapsing in exhaustion.
Within minutes they've donned their turnout gear and, helmets in hand, they
jump into their trucks to pull away from the station with lights blazing and sirens
blaring.
Adrenaline runs rampant as they head toward the scene; a five alarm fire - the
likes of which haven't seen in well over six months. The Lieutenant turns in his
seat and assists the rookie beside him with his coat collar, a silent
acknowledgement of the young man's fears and a reassurance that he's not
alone.
Arriving at the scene, the men are met with a frantic crowd. Citizens crying and
screaming in panic over their loved ones still remaining in the building that is
rapidly being destroyed by the raging inferno before them. Thick black smoke
billows from the windows as flames lick their way around edges. The crackles and
bursts emanating from within create the sinister laugh of this Devil's muse,
daring even the bravest of souls to attempt to cross the threshold of the domain
it's claimed.
Without a pause, the men band together in pairs and enter the gates of Hell on
Earth in search of the fire's victims. They will not rest and they will not concede
defeat. They will stand tall and put their lives on the lines for even those they do
not know.
Unmovable curtains of smoke, flickering with the light of the flames surround
them. The scorching heat is unbearable, but still they continue to search, moving
slowly through rooms with sweeps of their flashlights and booming voices calling
out to anyone who can hear.
From down the hall, they hear the terrified screams of a survivor. Their steps pick
up pace as they use the sounds to lead their way, and upon spotting their
rescuers, the victim's tears turn to ones of unfathomable relief.
Within the arms of their saviors, those trapped and left behind are delivered from
the beast's clutches and into the awaiting embraces of their loved ones. Praises
and sentiments of profound gratitude are showered upon the men, but the words,
gestures, and watery smiles can only be savored for a fraction of a moment. They
still have a demon to tame and conquer.
It's what they were born to do.
It's what they live for.
They are our true modern day heroes.
They are...Firefighters.
The Weight of the World vs The Weight of Words
At ten to five Edward's alarm clock began to wail, it's obnoxious screeching
rousing him from a dead sleep instantly as his arm shot out from under the
blanket and knocked it off the nightstand. His bedroom was still dark, the sun not
yet cresting the horizon as he rolled over with a groan, tossing his arms over his
face and exhaustedly savoring the few minutes of silence he'd been awarded by
the clattering of the clock to the floor. It didn't last as long as the snooze
function, though; it never did.
"Tango," he grunted, pushing against the giant white lab that had jumped up on
the bed just moments after hearing the alarm; always ready and willing to
respond to the deafening tones they heard daily. "Get lost will ya?"
Tango whined and grabbed the edge of the blanket in his muzzle, dragging it to
the bottom of the bed and onto the floor as he hopped off with a resounding
thud. Not a minute later the alarm's electronic bleats began shrilling yet again.
Edward rolled to pick it up off the floor and shut it off, placing it back upon the
nightstand before rising from the bed completely and stretching his tired muscles.
The scent of coffee, made so strong it could jumpstart even the weariest of
bodies and minds into a state of alertness, wafted up the stairs. He couldn't
remember the last time he'd tasted a cup of coffee that wasn't brewed with a
triple load of grinds. The liquid he poured into his mug resembled dirty motor oil
more closely than the caffeinated beverage he'd known in his days of youth.
Edward opened his back door to let Tango out into the yard and walked out onto
the small deck, wearing nothing but the pair of basketball shorts he'd slept in.
The balmy July morning air, thick with fog, laid heavily against his bare skin and
attempted to coat him in the same moist dew it had settled upon everything
surrounding him during the night. He closed his eyes momentarily and deeply
inhaled the fresh, albeit humid, air mixed with the pungent smell of his morning
brew. He'd barely gotten a chance to release his breath when his eyes snapped
back open at the sound of Tango digging in the landscaping — again.
"Hey! Get outta there ya big oaf," he snapped, waving his arm at the dog wildly
while keeping his voice down so as not to disturb his still slumbering neighbors.
No one should have to be up before the crack of dawn on a Saturday — at least
no one who didn't have to work that day.
"Your Nana's gonna whoop your ass if you keep that up," he grumbled as Tango
came trotting up to him, tongue hanging out of a goofy canine grin that only his
mother and Edward could love.
He downed the rest of his coffee and turned to head back in the house, Tango hot
on his heels. Back in the kitchen, he filled Tango's bowls with fresh water and
breakfast before refilling his mug and grabbing his cordless phone from the
charger. As he listened to the phone ringing, he rinsed his dishes from the
previous night and loaded them into the dishwasher.
"Morning sunshine!" his voice sang with a teasing tone and false cheer as a
muffled grunt resembling a "hello" filtered across the line. "Get your butt outta
bed, bro. You're gonna get your ass suspended if you're late one more time this
month."
"No I won't," Emmett scoffed groggily, "I'm the Chief's kid. He ain't gonna
suspend me."
"Don't test Pops, Em. He'll do it and he's already warned you once."
Edward's gentle warning was met only with a poorly concealed snort and he
sighed, thinking his little brother would one day realize that being the Chief's kid
didn't make you untouchable. If anything, it cast you in a spotlight to be made an
example of. "Hey speaking of warnings, it's your turn to stock the kitchen at the
house. Better get movin' if you're gonna make it to the market and work on
time."
"Shiiiit," Emmett groaned, drawing out the word as he rubbed a hand over his
face. "Bro, I'll pay you if you do it. Please? I freakin' hate goin' food shoppin'.
Rosie always does it and I forgot to ask her to go for me yesterday."
Edward rolled his eyes as he chugged a few sips of coffee and dumped the rest
down the drain. "Emmett, one of these days you're going to have to grow up and
be a responsible adult. You got a kid on the way, man. I'll go this time, but it's
the last time I'm doing this shit for you, got it?"
"Yeah, got it, bro. I'll pay your part when I get there. Any chance I can get you to
throw my turnout gear in the wash when you get there? Those things smell like
ass," Em asked with a smile in his voice.
Edward slammed the dishwasher door shut, gritting his teeth as he shook his
head and breathed deeply through his nose. It wasn't enough to contain his
irritation, however. He was sick and tired of constantly being walked all over by
his younger siblings.
"What the fuck, Emmett! You've been off for two goddamn days now, why didn't
you do that shit while you were off? What the fuck are you gonna wear if we get
called to a fire?"
"Your old gear? It's still at the station right?" he proceeded hesitantly, knowing it
was only quarter after five in the morning and he'd already pushed his eldest
brother over the edge. That wasn't really the best way to start a day in which
they'd be spending a full twenty four hours together nonstop.
Edward rubbed circles on his temples, reminding himself over and over again that
this was his baby brother and it was his duty to make sure he was taken care of.
And part of taking care of him meant taking care of his turnout gear so it'd
protect him when it needed to on a call.
"You're a pain in my ass, Em. You're lucky we're blood related or I would have
hosed you by now...not saying I won't," Edward grumped as he climbs the stairs
towards the shower.
"Sooo...is that a yes? You'll wash my gear?" he asked, holding in his victory
punch until he received confirmation.
"Sure...after I let Tango piss all over it, ya lazy shit," Edward smirked, though in
the back of his mind it really didn't seem like all that bad of an idea.
"Thanks, bro...but don't let..."
"Yeah, yeah...I gotta go," Edward cut him off, not wanting to hear his whining
that would inevitably turn into him asking for yet another favor before six am.
"Pick Jasper up on your way in since I won't be able to do it now. His car's in the
shop again and Alice has to work today, and I swear to God, Emmett, be on time
or I will hose your ass!" he warned before hanging up the phone.
As Edward stood under the steaming spray of the shower, he wondered if his
brothers would ever stop acting like irresponsible little kids. He often felt like their
second father, always having to do everything for them and try to keep them in
line. His shoulders sagged with the realization that if anything ever happened to
both him and their father while on the job, his brothers would be tossed into the
deep end of the swimming pool without so much as a pair of kiddie swimmies to
share to help keep them both afloat.
At twenty nine, Edward was a completely independent, responsible adult. He
owned a new Toyota Tundra crew cab pick-up truck and his own home - a nice
little three bedroom colonial on a quiet tree lined street, complete with a wrap
around privacy fence and neatly manicured lawn. He'd scraped by and saved
every penny he'd earned for years, working overtime as often as he could to buy
the home he'd hoped to one day fill with a family of his own - something which
had yet to happen.
But it would, when he met the right person and the timing was right — at least
that's what he always told himself. And when it did, he'd be ready. He was
financially secure, his mortgage was just a few years short of being paid off, and
his savings account had finally been built back up after the cringe worthy hit it
had taken in helping Emmett and Rose buy their townhome a year ago.
It wasn't the only hit his savings account had taken over the years either.
Three years prior, he'd forked out over four grand to keep Jasper's Mustang from
being repossessed — only for him to again not make the payments six months
later and have it taken in the middle of the night from his and Alice's apartment
parking lot. After that, it was impossible for Jas to get another loan for a car
without having an astronomically high interest rate on top of needing a surreal
down payment, so Edward and their parents went in together and bought him a
decent pre-owned car; which he'd, in turn, beaten to shit over the years.
At twenty-six and twenty-two, Jasper and Emmett were two of the most
irresponsible people Edward had ever known. He often found himself wondering
how they were both settled down and married, yet, practically still living the lives
of bachelors. It was infrequent, mainly only for major sports events, that Edward
ever joined his station brothers for drinks at the bar on their nights off, but it had
been the weekly routine for his siblings and Emmett's wife for what seemed like a
lifetime. The only thing that had changed over the years was that Rosalie had
currently been exchanging her customary Jack & Cokes for just plain soda.
As he got dressed, donning the work uniform he'd ironed the night before, he
wondered how long it would take for Emmett and Rosalie's ship to sink after his
niece or nephew was born.
On his way out of his house, Edward made sure all the lights and the coffee pot
were turned off and grabbed his spare gear bag from the garage. He tossed it
into the bed of the truck and opened the driver's side door for Tango, who
promptly and proudly took his shotgun seat beside Edward.
"You ready, boy?" he asked as he started up the truck. He reached over to rub
the top of his head playfully, earning a happy bark as his wagging tail thumped
against the truck door. "Maybe we should hose you down along with your Uncle
Emmett, Tango, cause you stink, buddy."
Edward laughed as Tango rumbled out a groan while he backed the truck out of
the driveway. It was a short trip to the market and Tango let his ears and jowls
flap in the wind the entire way. It was an even shorter trip inside the store as
Edward methodically worked his way up and down all the aisles, grabbing
everything the station would need for the week and making sure not to forget the
two giant tubs of Folgers coffee grinds. He only made it three steps away before
he turned around to grab a third one — just to be on the safe side.
By the time he made it to the station house, it was just after six-thirty and the
sun was already beginning to shine brightly as the last remnants of the night's
fog dissipated. He made his way toward the building, Tango running circles
around his legs in excitement. The bay door had barely opened before Cash,
Edward's best friend's black lab and collie mix, squeezed himself out from
underneath it. The two dogs chased each other around the parking lot, barking up
a storm and jumping all over each other playfully. Edward chuckled, shaking his
head at them as he headed toward the kitchen, his arms weighed down with the
bags of a cart-full of purchases.
"Hey Chief, you're up early."
He was surprised to see his father standing in the kitchen, watching sludge even
stronger than Edward's ooze into a coffee pot intently, as if watching it would
make it brew faster.
If Edward's brew could put hair on your chest, Carlisle's could burn it off with the
heartburn you'd inevitably get after just three sips.
"Late's more like it," Carlisle sighed, turning to lean against the counter and
crossing his arms over his chest. "Car spun off the road and flipped into a ditch
just after four this morning. We just got back from the scene about twenty
minutes ago. Took us an hour and a half to extricate the vics. I don't think a one
of us has gotten more than forty minutes of sleep in the last twenty-four."
Edward nodded as he listened, moving around the kitchen efficiently as he put
everything away and wondered what kind of shift his crew would have. If it was
anything close to what it sounded like the guys getting ready to come off shift
just had, he was grateful for the solid ten hours of sleep he'd managed to get the
previous night.
"Listen, I hate to ask this of you with how many shifts you've been pulling
recently, but do you think you can cover for Tyler tomorrow and I'll have Eric
cover you Monday?" Carlisle asked hesitantly, hating that he was working his son
half to death, but knowing he was the only reliable one to ask at the moment. "I'll
work something out for his shifts for the remainder of the month..."
"Rest of the month?" Edward interrupted, halting in the middle of the kitchen and
facing his father with furrowed brows.
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