Archive of Our Own

Neve was enjoying a pint at the Cobbled Swan when her phone chimed. She snorted over her glass. Rook, catching on fire? What was new? After all this time, she’d learned to accept some of the dangers that came with her girlfriend’s profession. Otherwise, well. She’d drive herself mad with worry. So instead of freaking out, she finished off her pint, put down the glass, and typed a quick, sassy reply.

Rook scoffed at the message, half-caught off guard and half-impressed with her girlfriend. Smirking, she fired back a snarky response.

Neve smirked, motioning to the bartender for another drink.

Rook responded, biting her lip with a smirk as she settled into the couch, feeling the muscles of her body relax into it after a tense call. Speaking to Neve was the cure to everything, even when her job kept them apart.

Neve considered while her beer arrived, and she nodded her thanks to the bartender before taking a sip.

Rook’s heart stopped upon seeing the message. She leaned forward in her chair, eyes flicking to her colleagues to check they were far enough away as she tried to stifle a shaky exhale.

Neve was right, the image alone had Rook involuntarily holding her breath.

Neve bit her lip, eyes darting to her right. She was in a corner seat, with a few seats in between her and the next group of people. The bartender was preoccupied. Could she…? The thrill of the idea sent a shiver down her spine, even as her brain argued.

As surreptitiously as possible, Neve slipped her hand under her coat and into her pants. Fuck, she was already soaking. She wiped her damp fingers along the inside of her pants as she withdrew them, quick enough that nobody saw.

She needed a second to gather herself, take another sip of her beer, and then type up a reply.

Neve eyed her beer. She didn’t want to leave it here and run to the lavatory, and she was barely a quarter into it.

Neve started drinking her beer faster. She could pretend to play it cool, but the heat between her legs was becoming a distraction.

Rook sends Neve a picture in the bathroom, tight-fitting black t-shirt pulled up over her toned abs, cargo pants unzipped and open, showing the top of her black boxers, fingers skimming over the waistband.

Only Neve’s impeccable self-control kept her from moaning into her beer; her throat didn’t hitch, her eyes stayed narrowed down on her phone. Only the faint blush rising to her cheeks betrayed how hot she found Rook’s photo.

Neve downed the rest of her pint and shot off a quick photo of the empty glass.

Neve resisted the urge to sigh dramatically. Instead, she shoved her phone into one of the many pockets on her jacket and dropped a few coins on the bar. She eased herself off the high stools and made her way to the facilities, weaving between regulars at various levels of sobriety.

A nudge of her hip against the bathroom door, and she was in the small, dim, tiled space. She entered an empty stall and shrugged out of her jacket. After hanging it on the lone, sad hook hanging inside the stall door, she settled herself down onto the toilet and snapped a selfie of herself arching an eyebrow at the camera, smirking.

Rook wasn’t getting her that easily. She slid the collar of her loose blouse down, offering a tantalizing view of her cleavage. She snapped a few photos, trying to find the perfect angle, and then sent off her favourite.

Though Neve enjoyed the back-and-forth, the teasing, she was getting uncomfortably turned on in the little stall. She dragged the hem of her shirt down a little more, revealing dark areola and a perky, pierced nipple. She shot off another photo to Rook, once again glad she’d convinced her girlfriend to figure out how to use an encrypted chat app.

This time, she did sigh. She snaked her hand down the front of her trousers, fingers reaching under her underwear until they reached her soaked mound. She bit her lip, cutting back a sharp exhalation, and took another selfie for Rook.

Rook huffed through a smirk, rolling her eyes as she took in Neve’s brattiness. It was so like her to be demanding, but now? At work? When an emergency could pull her away at any second?

It was pretty hot…

Siding against her better judgment, she whipped her t-shirt over her head with one hand, pushing her sports bra up and over her breasts as soon as the t-shirt left her grip. She hoped her blush wasn’t evident as she fired off the picture to Neve.

Neve chewed on her lower lip, eyes lighting up as the photo arrived. Rook’s abs were accentuated in the bathroom light, and her pert breasts sent another wave of wetness between her legs.

Rook deserved a reward. Neve ran her fingers through her folds, gathering the evidence of her desire. It glistened on her fingers. Setting up her phone to take a video, she licked the wetness from her fingertips, paying close attention to the way her tongue wrapped around the digits. She wanted it as suggestive as possible.

With a wicked smirk, she sent the video.

Neve stifled a chuckle, biting her lip as she watched Rook’s typing bubble appear, only to disappear again…

“Dammit!”

There it was—she’d jinxed it. She couldn’t bring herself to pout, but her mouth definitely fell into a frown as she read Rook’s messages. Well. Guess that was over. With a tsk, Neve got herself cleaned up, left the stall, and washed her hands.

She hadn’t been in the restroom for very long, but the Swan had managed to attract a number of new customers. Neve had to weave her way through the growing crowd towards the bar, deciding on grabbing another beer to dull the ache between her legs before heading home to wait for Rook.

She settled onto the only remaining empty stool, lifting her hand casually to catch the attention of the bartender, who acknowledged her with a curt nod.

“Thought you were leaving,” the bartender commented, pouring out another beer.

“Guess not.” Neve accepted the pint with a nod of thanks. She sat back on the stool, sighing to herself. She’d had to blow off Rook plenty of times in the past; her job demanded it. Why was it so disappointing when Rook’s job did as well? And fighting fires was a pretty damn important job. Still, it was so hard to find some alone time when neither of them were working.

She pulled her phone out of her pocket and stared at it, narrowing her eyes as if to challenge it to buzz again.

As if by magic, it did.

But it wasn’t Rook.

Her eyes grew impossibly wide as she heard every other phone in the bar buzz in tandem with her own, a red alert warning flashing on the screen.

*WARNING - THREAT TO LIFE.*
SHELTER IN PLACE

Wincing, she quickly turned off the alert, but it continued to reverberate throughout the bar.

“What’s goin’ on?” She heard someone a few stools away ask.

“I heard something about a fire,” another answered, having only just arrived.

Neve’s ears perked up at “fire,” and her stomach started to sink. Oh, she had a bad feeling about this.

“Mind turning on the news?” She asked the bartender, gaze flicking up to the flat screens mounted throughout the bar, playing sports reruns. They nodded and flipped through the channels until landing on The Mirror, Minrathous’ local news station.

Neve felt her stomach drop. The Soporatum was ablaze. What used to be a busy street of residential and office tower blocks was all but engulfed in flames, with at least one building completely destroyed.

The hubbub started to quiet as eyes were drawn to the screens.

The streets were abuzz with the constant flashing of blue lights bounding off the yellow uniforms of hundreds of firefighters, with more firetrucks, police and ambulances still arriving to quell the flame. The reporter could barely be heard over the roaring flames even as she shouted into her microphone. The inferno behind her ripped through buildings, and the deluge of water from the firefighters’ hoses seemed like it wasn’t even making a dent.

Her eyes scanned for every truck that arrived on the screen, gut twisting itself into anxious knots.

Then she saw it.

Rook’s engine, 118, driving through the police barricade.

“No,” Neve whispered to herself, hands clenching around her glass. She knew it—the second the news turned on, she knew—Rook’s truck would have to be there. But seeing it arrive, spotting Rook and their friend Davrin race from the truck sent daggers of ice plunging to her stomach. She watched in horror as Rook’s squad raced into danger.

Just when she thought it couldn’t get worse, a piercing screech rattled through the TV, so loud she could have sworn she heard it echo through the streets of Down Town too.

Demons began swarming from the destroyed building, initially lesser despair demons swirling up from the rubble before it shifted with the weight of something bigger—stronger.

“Oh gods, it’s a rage demon.” She heard someone gasp behind her.

“Good thing all those firefighters are there to put it out.” Another quipped far too lightly. Any other time, it would have earned a glare from the detective, but she could only watch as the demon crashed into a parked firetruck, sending it and two firefighters flying.

Both were killed on impact.

And suddenly it dawned on her that Rook could meet the same fate imminently.

Neve slammed her glass down onto the bar and fled. She had to help—she was an ice mage, she could put out fire and fight demons!—but she’d have to get there first. As Neve shoved her way outside, she flagged down a taxi perched outside, waiting to ferry home drunks.

The taxi driver had the news on, lips pressed into a grim line. “Where to?” He asked, turning down the radio.

“I need to get to the fire.”

The driver shot her a surprised look through his mirror, eyebrows shooting up his forehead. “You’re crazy! Why do you need to go there?”

“I can help,” she explained, anxiety buzzing through her veins. “I just need to get there.”

The driver scoffed, taking more seconds than Neve would prefer to think about it. “I’ll get you as close as I can,” he conceded, “but I’m sure they have the entire area barricaded.”

“However far you can go is good enough.”

The driver nodded and pulled out into the street, turning the radio back up.

* - confirmation that this was a blood ritual gone very, very wrong. We’re unsure as of yet, but initial reports are advising Venatori involvement.*

Venhedis. If a fire large enough to engulf the Soporatum and demons rampaging around the city wasn’t enough, of course, there had to be Venatori involvement. Likely all dead, given the state of the buildings on the news, but dead Venatori were still dangerous.

“Fucking cultists,” the driver mumbled, eyes narrowed as he navigated the Dock Town traffic (easier now that most cars had been abandoned in favour of shelter).

Normally, Neve would agree; she’d share a lighthearted quip to ease the cultural pain they had caused. But today, all she could do was chew on her lip and stare anxiously out the window—the orange of the fire bouncing ominously off the clouds in the distance—and hope she could get there before Rook was killed.

The minutes ticked away as Neve watched building after building, street by street fly by. The news continued sounding dire, as the anchor reported on the collapse of another neighboring building. All Neve could do was dig her fingernails into her pants and wait out the ride.

“How far out do you think we are?” She finally gave in and asked the driver. His eyes flicked back to meet hers through the mirror.

“At least another fifteen minutes, twenty depending on how blocked the streets start getting,” he said by way of apology.

“Right.” She didn’t know if she could wait that long. Every cell in her body vibrated; she wanted to scream, to tear into the next fucking cultist she saw. She jiggled her bad leg, prosthetic tapping against the carpeted taxi floor, and tried not to bite too deeply into her lip.

“What exactly do you think you can help with?” The driver asked, catching her anxious eyes in the rear-view mirror.

“I’m an ice mage.” She said curtly, not trying to be rude, but worrying even the mention of Rook would cause her cracked facade to break.

“That’s not it, though.” He caught on, pressing the matter more than he had any right to, but Neve found nothing but kindness in the eyes that glanced back at her. “If all you wanted to do was help, you’d look determined, but I only see people look this worried when they’re on the verge of losing something.”

Neve couldn’t reply, voice stuck painfully in her throat. She just nodded, once, eyes focused on outside of her window instead of meeting the man’s gaze.

“Somebody you love there?” He asked, gently.

“Yes.”

The man didn’t reply, but Neve could feel the car start to accelerate.

Another few minutes went by. “You know,” the driver started, then cleared his throat. “You know the city guard isn’t going to just let you in.”

“I have to try.” The words tumbled from her lips all too quickly, followed by a gasp that caused her mask to crack just a little more.

She had to pull herself together.

She knew Rook had a dangerous job when they met—hells, they met through their work, but none of Rook’s calls had ever been this high profile—never had she witnessed other firefighters killed instantly before her eyes.

It felt like forever until they hit the roadblock, a street barricaded by the guard. “This is as far as I can go,” the driver sighed.

“Good enough. …Thank you,” she croaked, fishing out more than enough gold to cover her fare and a generous tip.

He tipped his cap at her and watched as she left the car.

Between the fire, the sirens, and the roar of demons, it was cacophonous outside. Ash rained down from the distant fire, sky alight a mere several blocks away. She tilted her head down, trying to keep her eyes clear of the debris. Holding her coat tightly to herself, she jogged over to the barricade, where two city guardspeople stood watch, chatting anxiously to each other. Neve couldn’t even hear their words through the wall of sound.

“Turn back around, Ma’am.” An officer manning the barrier called out to her. “This isn’t the place for civilians.”

“I’m not a civilian,” Neve called back, slowing from a jog to a determined pace, making it seem as though she belonged behind the barricade. “I’m a detective. I’m here to investigate the scene.”

The other officer held their arm out to stop her as she attempted to push her way through. “Detectives aren’t allowed in yet. Not until Incident Command says it's safe.”

“No ID, no entry. I don’t care if you’re the Black Divine himself,” the first officer chimed in, having to shout to be heard over the fire.

Neve’s hands clenched in frustration. “I need! To get in! And help!”

“You need,” one of the officers commanded, eyes narrowing, “to leave.”

“Augh!” She exclaimed, frustrated and angry. She pivoted on her heel and stomped away, fuming. But this wasn’t the only entrance; maybe they’d let her in at another block.

She shot Rook another text.

With a look of determination, she cut over to the next block in the barricade. This time, she’d be prepared.

She approached the barrier with calm confidence, her Private Detective license pulled from her pocket and held tightly in her hand.

“Neve Gallus, Private Detective.” She said in a clipped tone as she approached the officers, who acknowledged her with nothing but a raised eyebrow. “I’m here to investigate Venatori involvement on behalf of the Magisterium.”

“I’m sure you are.” One of the guards quipped, letting the corner of his mouth rise into a smirk as he made a point of examining her licence. “But as you were told at the other entrance, Ms. Gallus, no one enters until Incident Command says it’s safe.” He gestured to the walkie-talkie clipped to his belt.

Finally, she cracked.

“You don’t understand—”

“I understand plenty, you need to leave—”

“I need to help, I can help—”

“Don’t make us arrest you—”

“My girlfriend is in there, I can’t just leave her!”

“I don’t care who’s in there!”

The other guard put a hand on her colleague’s shoulder. “Hey, hold on a minute.” Her eyes took in Neve with pity. “You’re Rana’s partner, right?”

“Y—Yeah. Why?” She asked, a little more bite remaining in her voice than she intended.

“And your girlfriend… Rook? She’s in the 118?”

“Yeah. Why?” Her voice was more urgent this time, brows furrowing together as she noticed the telltale signs of sympathy spreading across the officer’s face.

“Some of the crew are already offsite. We have two from the 118 injured, both taken to hospital… and another missing, but we don’t have names. I’m sorry.”

Her heart leapt into her throat, blood pounding in her ears. For a second, her vision swam; then cleared as the adrenaline started to kick in. “Which hospital?” Her tone was so flat and emotionless, it wasn’t even a question.

“Our Lady of Victory—hey! Be safe!”

But Neve didn’t reply; she was already racing away from the fire.

She didn’t realise how intense the blaze was until the heat of the flames stopped warming her back and was quickly replaced by cold drops of rain soaking into her clothes. Her eyes scanned the streets for any option other than running to the hospital, but no other option presented itself.

Hiking up her coat, she began to run. Our Lady couldn’t be more than a mile or two away; she’d just have to make due. The acrid smoke billowing from the inferno caught in her lungs, making it harder for her to breathe. All she could do while racing down the sidewalk was cough into her sleeve, relying on her internal map of Minrathous to guide her in the right direction.

She’d made it only a couple of blocks before erupting into a coughing fit. The rain had picked up, forming slick puddles on the pavement. She hit a wet patch at the wrong moment and her prosthetic slid out from under her, sending her tumbling into the street. She fell hard.

Dazed, she barely noticed the ambulance screaming down the street until it skidded to a stop in front of her. Her eyes squinted against the bright beams of the headlights, heart pounding in her throat.

“Neve?” A familiar voice called as the back doors swung open, though it took her a moment to recognise who it belonged to. “Are you alright?”

“Davrin?” She gasped, scrambling to her feet as a surge of relief hit her. “Where’s Rook?”

The relief faded into something akin to panic as his face dropped. “I don’t know. The whole crew got separated.” He winced, gaze casting down. It was only then that Neve noticed the bloodied bandages around his arm—firejacket missing and t-shirt shredded by what she imagined were demon claws.

As if sensing her growing panic, he raised his good arm up at her. “I’m okay.” He comforted, though his voice shook almost imperceptibly. “Rook will be, too. You know what she’s like.”

“What about the two from your house that were already taken to hospital?” She almost shouted, voice shaking against the pitterpattering of rain and thrumming of the ambulance engine. “Or the missing firefighter?”

Davrin’s face fell. “What?... I… I don’t know, we were cut off from comms the moment we walked in.”

“Hey! You two can chat in the bus, we’ve gotta go!” The driver yelled from the window, ushering Neve into the vehicle with a frantic wave.

Davrin offered Neve his good arm, hoisting her up into the ambulance. The other paramedic helped her to a seat as the driver threw the siren back on and gunned it.

“Are you alright?” The paramedic asked, looking her over for injuries.

“I’m fine. Just—just slipped,” Neve murmured, hands clenching involuntarily. She squeezed her eyes shut, then tried to relax her locked muscles. “Davrin. What happened?”

She watched in horror as her friend’s face fell; jaw tensing and eyes squeezing to block out a fresh, all too painful memory. “It was bad, Neve.”

“Bad how?” She pressed, feeling partially guilty for pressing the elf for information, but finding her need to understand what could have happened to Rook greater than preserving his feelings.

“The smoke… As soon as we were geared up and headed in with hoses, it engulfed us. It cut off comms completely. It was so thick you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face…” He took a steadying breath before continuing. “But we’re trained for that sort of thing… Hold onto the hose and stay together. But… something cut off the water supply. Ramesh was behind me. I felt him let go to turn it back on, but I haven’t seen him since… and the water never turned back on.”

Neve’s heart sank into her stomach. “I’m so sorry, Davrin.”

Her friend shrugged. “It’s the job. You know the drill: whatever it takes.”

“Did the Templars get the demons under control?”

Davrin grimaced. “Unsure. Saw a few run by while we handled the hoses, but it was too hard to see.”

Neve sank back into the bench, bringing her hand up to her face. She pinched the bridge of her nose and tried to steady her breath. She needed to calm down, but all she could think of, all she could see, was Rook running into danger, getting herself hurt or worse—

“Hey,” Davrin said, sensing her anxiety. “You know Rook. She can get herself out of any mess. She’s a survivor.”

Davrin’s words were comforting. Rook had been through worse.

“Yeah.” Neve conceded, exhaling.

The ambulance shifted; Neve could tell they were pulling into the hospital bay. The ambulance screeched to a halt, and the paramedics leapt into action, hurrying the two out the back and into the hospital, rushing through their patient handover in hopes of getting back to the scene as soon as possible.

“What are you going to do now?” Davrin asked, breaking Neve out of a haze that threatened to take her again.

It was a good question.

“Where are you taking the injured?” Neve asked the nurse who had begun to attend to Davrin.

“Looking for someone in particular?” She asked, and Neve answered her with a sharp nod. “Well, they’re either in this ward, in surgery, or…”

“Or?” Neve pushed, heart close to stopping as she waited for the word to be spoken.

“The morgue.”

Neve looked stricken, and Davrin shot the nurse a simmering glare. “Kyra Thorne,” he answered when it became clear Neve’s words were stuck in her throat. “She’s another firefighter.”

The nurse paused to check her tablet, scrolling through a list of recently admitted patients. “Thorne… Thorne… I’m not seeing anyone with that last name, but we have at least a few patients we haven’t…identified yet,” she admitted with a wince. “Tell you what, once we get your friend here patched up, we can take a quick tour through the ER.”

“I can’t wait,” Neve spoke, voice barely above a whisper. “I need to find her.”

“There’s not much to see beyond what’s in here.” The nurse sighed sympathetically in response.

“You said surgery or the morgue…” Neve confirmed, her tongue almost tripped over the word as her breath caught. “Where can I find them?”

Neve sprang up from her seat as soon as the directions began to flow from the nurse’s mouth, legs burning as she all but ran down the corridors towards the surgery suite. Her blood pounded through her body with every tap of her boot and prosthetic, blurring her vision and dampening the sounds of the hospital buzzing around her.

She barely registered the cold glass pressing against her forehead as she stared into OR after OR, begging for the slightest glimpse of whatever could be Rook.

But there was none.

Her body was frozen by the time she found herself in front of the door to the morgue. She didn’t even remember descending the concrete steps down to the basement. Ice cold sweat clung to the back of her neck; her vision narrowed, darkening at the edges. It was like time stood still. She barely registered stepping into the entryway until a voice jolted her out of her panic.

“...help you? Hello, can I help you?”

Neve snapped back into reality. “I’m looking for someone,” she managed to rasp out.

The receptionist’s face was grim. “Can you describe them for me?” He asked, rubbing one of his horns nervously.

She gulped. “She’s an elf, but taller than you’d expect, dark brown hair, late 20s. Tattoos.”

The receptionist nodded and rose, towering over her. “I’ll go ask the technician. Wait here a moment.”

Neve couldn’t stand still; she paced as she waited the long minutes for the Qunari man to return. The morgue was chillier than the rest of the hospital, but she didn’t even notice; ice was already pumping through her veins. Everything felt the same.

When the receptionist finally returned, his expression made her stop in her tracks. Her heart pounded in her ears.

“I’m so sorry.” He began, and Neve felt her heart crack. “If you can follow me, I’ll need you to identify the body.”

“Body?” Neve repeated, voice breaking as the remainder of her composure cracked. She grabbed onto the desk for balance as her legs wobbled beneath her.

“I’m afraid so.” His tone was solemn—empathetic, as though he knew the feeling of having your world wrenched out from beneath you.

His warm hand met her arm; an act meant to steady her and offer some comfort. He wouldn’t rush her, but now that he had a chance to name a Jane Doe, he had a job to do. “I’m right with you,” he offered, “And the hospital offers counselling to relatives of the deceased.” As if triggering a question for himself, he continued, “Can I ask how you know her?”

“My—” World, everything, soulmate? “Girlfriend.” She choked out through tears she hadn’t noticed had begun to fall.

He offered another one of those empathic looks, squeezing her arm and offering a tissue before turning towards the door, holding it open for Neve to follow.

The body was laid out on a cold metal slab, covered with a sheet. It was all Neve could see; not the technician standing somberly beside it, or the rows of similar slabs, prepared for others to face their worst nightmares. She inched towards it, forcing her limbs to shuffle forward.

As she approached the side of the table, the technician lowered the sheet to unveil the body’s face. Neve stared at it, unable to process.

The body looked peaceful, eyes closed as if sleeping. Neve couldn’t immediately see a cause of death. Smoke inhalation? Was there some terrible, grisly wound hiding beneath the rest of the sheet? Was she a victim of the fire, the demons, or the Venatori themselves?

But one thing was clear:

It wasn’t Rook.

Neve almost collapsed with relief; the receptionist had to lunge to catch her. “I’m so, so sorry—” he started, but she cut him off.

“It’s not her. It’s not Rook.”

The man helped her over to a chair. Neve stumbled into it, deflating. All of the adrenaline started draining from her system, leaving her trembling. She barely registered the look the technician shared with the receptionist, astonished.

“You’re positive?” The technician asked, hesitantly.

“Yes,” Neve answered with mixed feelings of relief. Someone else’s loved one lay dead upon the table, but it wasn’t her Rook.

Her mind remained a haze of emotions as she trudged back up to Davrin’s ward. Her eyes remained fixed to the floor, only looking up when a flash of brunette caught her attention and piqued her hopes.

But it still wasn’t Rook.

She was barely holding it together by the time she reached Davrin.

“Did you find her?” He asked, voice low and wary and barely wincing as a new nurse stitched his arm.

Neve couldn’t bring herself to do anything more than shake her head.

“I don’t like being the one to tell you this, Neve…” He continued, and only now did she see his brow furrow with discomfort—but not from physical pain. “The firefighters coming in are saying the fire’s out and anyone not in hospital or back at their firehouse is… well, they’re launching a rescue operation.”

“So, if she’s not at the firehouse, she’s…” She choked back a sob, not wanting to say the words out loud.

“Check there next. She might be totally fine, just sitting around and bragging about her exploits,” Davrin offered, trying to make himself sound hopeful. “I’d come with you, but…” He sighed, looking at his injured arm. “They need to run some tests before I’m allowed to get discharged.”

Neve wanted to respond—wanted to tell Davrin that he’d be okay, offer some comfort, but instead she froze; lips slightly ajar, and said nothing.

“Hey, Neve,” Davrin called, breaking her from her stupor. “She’s going to be okay.”

“What if she’s not, Davrin?” Her response was fast, but whispered.

“You can’t think about that yet. Rook would want you to keep looking.”

His reassurance thawed her fear. She slumped, rubbing her face with her hands in exhaustion. “Right. Firehouse next.”

“Good luck, Neve.”

“You too, Davrin.” She nodded to his injuries. “Hope the doctors can get to you soon.”

The walk from Davrin’s cot tucked into the corner of the overpacked ER out into the lobby was chaos; she was sore from her tumble, her residual limb aching from the day’s action. She winced as she dodged around frantic nurses and doctors, victims injured in the fire, and their distraught and relieved families. When she finally stepped out into the cool, rainy evening, Neve felt like she could finally breathe—just a little. Not a full, rejuvenating breath, but enough to keep her moving.

Her phone was still silent: no missed calls, no texts, nothing. Knowing Rook would have messaged or called her to let her know she was safe the moment she got back, Neve knew that only meant one thing—Rook hadn’t yet reached her phone back at the firehouse. Her hopes of finding her girlfriend were diminishing by the second.

It seemed a lot more likely someone would find Rook for her… probably under the rubble of a collapsed building…

She shot off another text, anyway.

Pushing her macabre thoughts as far away from her mind as she could manage, Neve pulled up directions to Rook’s firehouse and started walking through the gloomy drizzle. Normally, she’d be able to find her way around Minrathous with her eyes closed, but with what she had been through in the last few hours, she couldn’t trust herself to make it without some help.

Taxis waited outside the entrance, many offering free or discounted fares to victims and their families. It grew increasingly uncomfortable to admit that applied to her—that the label of ‘victim’ could apply to Rook… and the faster she got to the firestation, the faster she’d find out if that was truly the case.

Instead, she held her breath as she walked past the line of waiting taxis, trying to ignore the soft sobs and groans of pain from those deserving of a free ride.

The longer it took her to get to the firehouse, the longer she’d get to hold onto the last remaining crumb of hope that Rook was alive.

And so she gripped her phone in her hand, begging for it to buzz and light up against the dark of the night, and slowly began walking in the direction of the firehouse.

Between the weather (which at least may have helped fight the fire? Neve hoped), the distance, and her sore body, it took Neve an hour to reach the building. The space was illuminated, magelight filling the open garage with a steady glow, but the truck still wasn’t back. She could see a few firefighters milling about inside as she approached, though she spotted far fewer than she knew had been on shift when the call went out.

“Neve!” One of Rook’s squadmates called out as she walked into the empty garage, so spacious without either the truck or the captain’s car. The small group of firefighters looked over as she drew closer.

“Greta,” Neve replied in greeting. She tried to keep her voice even, knowing the other firefighter’s history with Rook (a one-night stand her girlfriend regretted, as Greta had become besotted with her). “Is Rook here?”

The other woman grimaced, fear obvious on her face. “Not yet. We all got separated, especially after half a building fell on our truck. Not getting that out for a little while.”

“We’ve been trickling back on our own,” Flynn, one of the station’s paramedics, let her know. “We’re still missing a few people.”

“Oh—If you haven’t heard. Davrin’s injured, but okay. He’s at Our Lady of Victory getting treated. I just walked over from there.” Neve figured they should know.

The look on the squad’s faces bolstered her spirits just a little—they looked at each other with open relief, chatting excitedly.

“But Rook—” Greta started.

“She’ll be fine. She’s tough,” Flynn interjected, trying to soothe the group’s anxiety.

Neve couldn’t handle it—the sympathy, the camaraderie that she wasn’t a part of. “I’m going to wait inside for her,” she murmured, heading from the garage into the station almost silently, a tear slipping free as it sank in that Rook was still missing.

Rook’s locker number was 58—passcode was 0606, the day they met; their jobs slamming their lives together as if by fate. Neve chewed on her lip as she approached, hands almost too cold to turn the numbers on the lock, but she managed.

How many more things would she have to manage on her own if Rook didn’t make it back?

She knew she’d find it before she even stepped into the building—Rook’s phone. Its screen lit up the moment she touched it, showing message after message covering the picture of Neve drinking coffee that Rook had set as her background.

Neve slumped down onto the locker room bench, cradling Rook’s phone in her hands. She was startled when the first tear fell, splashing down onto the lock screen; was she crying? She brought a hand up to her face, surprised to find her cheeks wet. But once she started, she couldn’t contain the deluge. Keening softly, she collapsed forward and sobbed. This couldn’t—it couldn’t be the end. Rook had to be safe; she couldn’t lose her—

“Neve?”

She froze. Looking up through the curtain of loose fringe that had escaped her bun, through her damp eyelashes and blurry eyes, terrified that what she was hearing wasn’t real… Neve saw her.

Rook.

“Neve!” Rook raced over to her, falling to her knees in front of the bench and taking Neve’s hands into her huge, sooty gloves. “Shh, it’s okay, I’m okay, I’m here.”

“I thought I’d lost you,” Neve managed to croak out through her sobs, and she slid to the floor alongside Rook, throwing her arms around her and holding on for dear life. Rook was filthy, covered in soot and ash and who knows what else, damp from rain and hose water, reeking of smoke, but Neve didn’t care. She was alive. “I thought I’d lost you!” she repeated, voice cracking as she slammed her palm into her girlfriend’s chest, tears falling faster as Rook’s arms held her tight against her chest.

Rook held her as she sobbed, ignoring the voices outside the room growing in volume as more of their numbers returned—Evka’s voice loudest of them all, rallying her squad in the face of their losses and close calls, but Rook didn’t move.

Nothing was more important in this moment than being in each other’s arms.

“Are your legs strong enough to stand now?” Rook whispered against the shell of her ear when the sobs finally subsided. Neve simply nodded, voice hoarse, and let Rook guide her to her feet. “You’re shivering.” Rook’s brow furrowed as she worried over her girlfriend as if she hadn’t been the one to face death. Without hesitation, she shrugged her jacket off, twisting her arms to wrap it over Neve’s shoulders, but the Detective caught her wrist mid-air, hitting her with a stare so intense it sent a shiver down Rook’s spine.

“I didn’t think you were coming back.” Neve breathed, closing the distance between their bodies, “I almost can’t believe my eyes.” Her hand released Rook’s wrist, and her jacket fell to the floor—forgotten as the two women regarded each other. Neve moved her hand up to Rook’s face, letting the backs of her fingers trail across a soot-stained cheek, tracking the movement with her eyes, before hitting Rook with another all-too-intense gaze. “Kiss me, Trouble.” She bit her lip as she moved to close the distance between their faces, letting their breath mingle, but forcing Rook to make the final move. “Kiss me so I know it’s real.”

Rook’s eyes softened, her gaze dropping down to Neve’s lips. Slowly, carefully, as if she was worried Neve might break, she brought their lips together. Rook’s lips were chapped from the heat, but that didn’t bother Neve; if anything, it reminded her of how alive Rook was. Rook rested her hand on the back of Neve’s head, pulling her in closer.

Neve tilted her head, making it easier for her to press back against Rook’s kiss. She clung to the bulky uniform as if Rook might disappear from between her fingers. More tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but they were finally, blissfully, from relief.

Feeling her cheeks dampen as Neve’s tears fell, Rook pulled her lips away— eyes opening with a speed born from worry to make sure Neve was okay. Before she could even voice the question, Neve’s hand wrapped around her neck, teal nails digging lightly into her scalp.

“Don’t you dare stop,” she groaned, pulling Rook’s face back in to capture her lips again. This time, the warmth that had blossomed at their reunion turned into a burning heat, and their teeth clashed as Neve parted Rook’s lips with her tongue, demanding entry, demanding more.

Rook was taken off guard by Neve’s sudden fervour, gasping against her lips as the detective pulled her breath from her lungs. She was caught off guard once more when Neve pressed a palm firmly into her chest, keeping their lips pressed together as she guided Rook back, step after step, before her back hit the wall—or rather, a door. The door to the showers.

Rook made as if to protest, but Neve wouldn’t let her; she pushed her back through the doorway, nearly stumbling over the threshold, until Rook was backed up against the row of sinks against the opposite wall.

“Oh, fuck it,” Rook thought and spun them around, hoisting Neve up onto the counter. She stripped off her bulky gloves, dropping them to the tiles. She kicked off her boots, refusing to let their lips part in the meantime. The heat between them grew as hot as the inferno Rook had waded into, facing destruction and demons and the ever-present fear of death. But Rook was still there, still breathing, still alive, and Neve clung to her like all of that could change at any moment. Still, she needed her firefighter closer. She needed the barriers between them to drop so she could feel Rook’s skin against hers.

Gasping for air as Rook maintained the pressure of their kiss, Neve moved her hands between their chests, clumsily undoing the buttons of her shirt before grasping at the still-tucked-in t-shirt of Rook’s fire uniform and shoving it forcefully up and off her body. Her hands found their way between their chests again in an instant—fingertips burning as they trailed further down, mapping the curves and valleys of her tight abs.

Their breath caught when a voice echoed through the locker room they had just entered from, and both sets of eyes darted towards the door (which had, mercifully, closed behind them.

“Shit, what if someone comes in?” Rook murmured breathlessly—more of a spoken thought than an actual question.

Neve smirked as her eyes darted to the unoccupied shower cubicles, a mischievous idea forming in her head. She leaned forward, pressing her nose against Rook’s cheek and biting her jaw gently, “They can’t come in if the door’s locked.”

“Neve, we can’t just lock everyone out of the bathroom—”

“Then they’re just going to have to hear us,” Neve interrupted, voice barely above a whisper as she kissed a trail up Rook’s jaw to her earlobe, “because I want you, Trouble. I need you.” Rook shivered, goosebumps rising all over her arms. Not caring a lick about their abandoned clothing or whether or not Evka would walk in on them, she swooped Neve up into her arms and carried her towards the row of shower stalls.

Neve responded exactly as Rook had hoped: wrapping her legs around Rook’s hips, tight enough to feel the heat already radiating from her centre. Neve’s arms wrapped around her shoulders, and she brought her lips up to Rook’s neck. She nipped and kissed her skin possessively, as though she needed to stake her claim and stop fate taking her again.

Rook stumbled to a shower stall, too caught up in the kiss to walk straight. She shouldered her way in, stepping over the lip and pushing Neve up against the vinyl wall. Neve moaned as Rook’s hips pressed against her core; she ground herself against those strong thighs, desperate for more, moaning into their kiss without a thought for volume.

Rook pulled back, gasping for breath. Neve took the moment to slide down to the bench and tear off the rest of their clothes, leaving a pile strewn about the tiny cubby floor until the two women were finally skin-to-skin. They stumbled backwards until they were under the faucet, and a quick flick of Neve’s wrist against the tap started a cascade of warm water over their bodies.

Neve’s palm rested firmly against Rook’s cheek, separating their lips just for Neve’s eyes to capture Rook’s.

A soft smile turned the corners of her mouth, causing creases to form next to her eyes, and Rook could swear she had never seen a more beautiful woman in her life.

“I love you,” Neve whispered, before leaning in to capture Rook’s lips once more. “And I need you.” She continued, only granting enough space between them to allow for her whispered words. “I need to feel you against me.” She widened her stance, keeping her balance steady with her prosthetic and letting her left leg drape around the back of Rook’s knee, pulling her thigh up against her core. “I need to feel you inside me.” Her voice turned breathless as she ground her hips down, gasping as she felt herself glide across the slick skin of Rook’s thigh. “I need you to fuck me so hard I forget all about tonight.” She accentuated the request with a bite to Rook’s lip, earning her a groan and added pressure between her legs in response. “Can you do that for me, Trouble?”

Rook’s eyes were hazy with lust. Neve wanted to lose herself in them, forget about the fear and the pain and just… become one with her. Rook’s lips quivered at the corners, whether out of joy or desire, she couldn’t tell.

“Yeah, babe,” Rook whispered, low and husky. “I can do that.”

Tenderly, she leaned herself into Neve until her back was flush against the stall wall. Neve didn’t mind the cold; Rook would keep her warm. Her thighs were slick with her desire, and when Rook parted her lips with gentle fingers, her eyes scrunched close. She gave a desperate pant as Rook’s fingertips traced slow spirals over her nub; she could already feel herself squeezing inside, needing to feel Rook inside of her. Her nails dug into Rook’s back, leaving crescent marks that would still show in the morning. Rook’s breath was hot on Neve’s ear as her own breathing increased. The woman enveloped every inch of her, thighs against thighs, stomachs and chests meeting with a need to touch every inch of each other.

“More, please,” Neve begged into the crook of Rook’s neck, smirking at the gasp she elicited when her tongue dragged across the water droplets running down her skin.

Rook hooked her arms under Neve’s thighs in response, lifting her enough to wrap her legs around Rook’s hips again, and slipped one hand between their bodies, two fingers sliding inside her without further pause.

The moan that tore from Neve’s throat was close to primal. Her limbs wrapped tighter around Rook’s body, forcing the firefighter to press her harder into the wall to keep their balance. With no room to thrust her fingers in and out of Neve, Rook added a third finger and pushed as far as she could inside, curling all three in rhythm with the rocking of Neve’s hips.

Rook groaned against Neve’s lips as they kissed, feeling herself get wetter with every pulse of Neve’s cunt around her fingers, pulling her impossibly further inside with every clench.

They’d made love before. They’d fucked before. Their love life ranged from everything between lazy Sunday morning sex, to primal need—all teeth and skin. But this? Rook had never felt Neve need her like this before—she had never felt her body respond to her so intensely, like it wanted to hold on and never let her go.

“Ohhh, fu—”

Neve’s tongue was hot and slick in Rook’s mouth; Rook’s fingers were hot and slick inside of Neve. Their whole world narrowed down to the heat growing between them, showering over them in a warm jet that rinsed all the stress and worry from their muscles like the soot dripping down Rook’s legs, spiralling away down the drain. Each tiny gasp, each whimper in her mouth made Rook fuck her harder, deeper, fingers filling Neve until they were one.

“Oh, Troub—ah!”

Rook’s thumb was on her swollen clit, sliding up and down across her hood with each needy thrust of her fingers. Neve’s legs trembled around her waist, ice flashing through her as her orgasm drew closer, a tingling that built and built until she cried for its release, hearing the echo of her moans bounce through the shower room. She wrapped herself around Rook with every ounce of strength she had, high-pitched moans swallowed by Rook’s mouth. Lights fizzled under her eyelids as she rode wave after wave of pleasure, toes curling and nails biting with her need.

When her trembling finally subsided, muscles slack, Rook had to cling to her just so Neve didn’t melt into a puddle on the shower floor. Their lips parted, both panting as their chests heaved against one another.

“I love you,” Rook murmured, nuzzling her cheek with an intimacy that caused Neve’s heart to ache. Water drizzled down Rook’s nose, small rivulets connecting them into a single stream.

It wasn’t often that Neve found herself lost for words, but standing under the stream of warm water, looking at the still-sooty face of her girlfriend, feeling how alive she was after being sure she’d lost her—for the second time that night, Neve cried.

But this time, they were tears of happiness.

Knowing she would shatter if she said those words back, Neve instead put all of her feelings into a devastating kiss.

A soft hand wrapped around the back of Rook’s neck, scratching lightly at the skin before reaching up to undo her bun and let her brunette waves fall free. Her other hand reached up to cup her cheek, warm and steady.

Logically, she could see her girlfriend was fine—if anything, the thoroughness by which Rook just made her come just proved that—but that didn’t stop Neve from feeling the urge to pulse healing magic through her palm. Just to be sure.

The tension seemed to ease from Rook’s shoulders. She let out a contented sigh, giving her neck a gentle stretch. “Oh, that feels good. I was more banged up than I thought.”

Neve could only give her a weak smile, letting the stream wash away her tears. She reached over to the row of shared toiletries hung along the shower wall, pumping a squirt of body wash into her hand. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” she proposed, nudging Rook under the full spray of the shower head.

While Rook ran her fingers through her hair, letting it fully soak under the water, Neve started lathering the soap all over her body. Her nails scraped through the suds along Rook’s damp skin, trying to remove every speck of ingrained ash and dirt. Her uniform had helped keep off the worst of it, but the soot still managed to get everywhere, burrowing into every minuscule opening in her jacket. Neve lathered and scrubbed at Rook with her fingers until the elf’s skin was pink and fresh.

Rook almost seemed to purr when Neve moved on to her hair, massaging the shampoo into her scalp with deft fingers. She slumped forward, giving Neve better access to the back of her head.

Sex was one thing; this kind of intimacy was a whole different beast, and it filled Neve’s chest with an intense sense of fulfilment. Rook had risked her life to save the people of Minrathous. She very easily could have been the one lying there on the cold slab of the hospital morgue, not the unknown stranger she’d been mistaken for. She deserved to be taken care of, and that was a service Neve could provide.

The suds ran dark down Rook’s body as Neve worked the soot and ash out of her hair. It wasn’t something she could fix with one shower—they had been together long enough to know that the smell often lingered—but Neve would do everything she could to rid Rook of the memory of this evening (and her own along with it).

She’d be lying if she said it didn’t offer her some benefit. Yes, Rook had just pinned her against the wall; her legs had just been wrapped around strong thighs, her arms wrapped around broad shoulders… But washing Rook like this allowed her to truly appreciate the firefighter’s body. Generally, she wasn't bothered by such trivial things as physiques, but Rook looked like she was carved by the ancient Neromenians themselves: Supple curves along her breasts, hips, and thighs, sculpted perfectly across her body. Muscles tuned for speed, strength, and agility; not for vanity, but to ensure she could perform when it mattered in the field.

And the bedroom.

“You’re staring, Detective.” Rook chuckled, flashing a stormy blue eye over her shoulder. “I’m not a clue to be solved in one of your cases.”

“If you didn’t want me staring, you shouldn’t give me so much to look at.” Neve quipped back.

As the last of the suds washed away, Rook toggled off the shower. Neve stepped over the shower lip and moved over to the bench on the other side of the cubby, sitting down lightly and wincing as her residual limb ached against her prosthetic.

“We didn’t think to grab any towels,” Neve commented dryly.

“Had too much else on our minds,” came Rook’s reply with a shrug. She padded over to Neve and bent over to kiss the top of her head.

Neve’s arms wrapped around her waist, forehead pressing against Rook’s bare stomach. She was so warm, even as the air around them chilled their damp skin. Neve planted a gentle kiss above her belly button, then another below while her fingers trailed down Rook’s body as if driven by their own accord. Her palm cupped Rook’s firm ass, then slid around the front of her thigh until it was poised between her legs.

Rook exhaled, spreading her legs and leaning an arm against the wall for support, and that was all the encouragement Neve needed. Face pressed into Rook’s stomach, she worked her fingers between Rook’s slit, eliciting a faint gasp. The shower hadn’t managed to wash away all of Rook’s arousal, and the slickness grew as Neve ran her fingertips through Rook’s folds.

“Fuck, Neve.” Rook gasped, using her spare hand to balance herself against Neve’s shoulder. Her eyes closed instinctually, scrunching as her lips parted.

A predatory smirk crossed Neve’s face as she heard her girlfriend’s reaction, and she dragged her teeth across the tight skin of Rook’s abs as she dipped her fingers inside—shallow at first, intent on taking her time and building up a steady pleasure. Her teeth followed suit, slowly grazing across her skin, moving to her hip before following the motion with her tongue. Only when she elicited a sharp gasp with her efforts did she slide her finger further inside.

The groan she received in response was guttural, full of pent-up frustration and residual tension leaving Rook’s body. It seemed like she needed the distraction just as much as Neve did.

Rook was all tension and wet heat, squeezing down on Neve’s hand like she didn’t want to lose her. Neve’s focus narrowed down to the feeling of her fingers inside, tracing Rook’s curves until she elicited a whimper. Damp forehead pressed against Rook’s hip, Neve concentrated on that particular spot, gentle at first but more powerful with each little gasp and moan.

“Ahh—Neve—” Rook’s voice vibrated through her, and she picked up the pace. Rook was panting, holding herself up against the side of the shower with her arms and trying not to slip on the damp floor, hips meeting each thrust of Neve’s fingers. “Just like that, just like that—”

It wasn’t long before Rook’s begging turned to helpless pants; her hand tightening in Neve’s still damp hair for a matter of seconds before Neve pulled her mouth away.

“Wha—” Rook groaned; voice filled with a mix of surprise and frustration.

“Lie on the bench,” Neve commanded, the pierce of her stare leaving no room to argue. Removing her hand from between Rook’s thighs, she accentuated the instruction with a firm squeeze of her ass.

Rook was too worked up to question the change of position, but it didn’t stop Neve from reading her mind. The detective smiled almost sweetly at her as she followed the order, and Neve was on top of her in an instant.

“I want to kiss you while you come.” Neve rasped, answering the unspoken question.

Rook looked so sexy like this: staring up at her with wide eyes, pupils blown out with desire. Her mouth was parted just enough for Neve to see the pink of her tongue. She swooped down, catching Rook’s lips with her own as she slid her fingers back inside of her.

Rook moaned into Neve’s mouth. Her arms slid around Neve’s back, pulling her close. The angle was a little more difficult this way, but it was worth it to feel Rook pressed against her, feel her body shudder beneath her with each caress of her fingers.

It didn’t take long for Rook to unravel beneath her, chest juddering with each hot pant into Neve’s mouth. Her stomach muscles clenched, legs stiffening and hips cocking enough to lift Neve’s pelvis off the bench. Her muffled whines filled Neve’s ears as she came, a needy, desperate sound that struck Neve like a spell.

When Rook’s shuddering finally started to ease beneath her, Neve broke their kiss. Both women were panting, chests heaving against each other. Rook flopped her head back against the hard bench with an “ooph,” eyes closed as she caught her breath.

Neve couldn’t help but look down at her with all of her love. She ached for Rook so much it hurt; the idea of losing her was…unthinkable. And yet, she had spent part of the day fearing just that. Seeing her alive and flushed beneath her brought pricks of tears back to her eyes. Neve let herself lower back down, covering Rook’s body with her own, hooking her arms under Rook’s shoulders and resting her head in the nape of Rook’s neck.

She never wanted to move from this spot—listening to Rook’s heart beating strongly in her chest, the sound of her breath steadying as she came down from her high, feeling her warmth against her skin.

As if she hadn’t cried enough today, new tears began to prick at the corner of her eyes.

“I love you.” She whispered so quietly that Rook almost didn’t hear it, but the confession was met with a kiss on the top of her head.

“I don’t know if I can come to work again knowing what it might do to you if something happened,” Rook confessed after a few moments of silence, her finger trailing patterns across the bare skin of Neve’s shoulder.

Neve’s head shot up at the insinuation. “Don’t,” her voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. “You’re not leaving your job because I got scared. Maker knows I've given you enough of your own.”

Rook looked like she was about to argue anyway when a knock thudded against the shower cubby. Both women jumped, Neve nearly tumbling off the bench. She caught herself just in time, sliding down onto her ass. Rook swung her feet over and sat up.

Evka’s voice came from the other side of the thin shower door. “Hey, lovebirds. Time to clean up and come out. We need to review what happened today, and I can’t do that without Rook.”

“Could—” Rook’s voice stuck in her throat, and she coughed to clear it. “Could you throw us a few towels?”

“Amateurs...” Evka’s muttering was clear through the stall. “Hold on, hold on.” They could hear her footsteps leave and then return a moment later. The door creaked open, Evka’s brawny arm reaching in with two towels. Rook leaned forward to grab them, and Evka’s hand snapped back.

“I'd better see you out there in five minutes!” Evka said in parting, and they could hear her exit the bathroom, door swinging shut behind her.

Rook grimaced. “I wonder how many people heard us.” She offered Neve one of the fluffy, oversized towels the firehouse stocked—a treat, given the state of the last one she worked in. Evka made sure they were taken care of.

Neve accepted with a wry grin. “I’m sure you’ll find out when they all tease you.”

“Worth it.”

Davrin was the first to spot the couple as they walked back into the communal area, hand in hand, with Rook walking slightly ahead of Neve as if to protect her from prying eyes.

“Quite the show you put on,” the larger elf chuckled at her as he crossed his arms over his chest, “Gotta say it made listening to Evka’s debrief tricky.”

“Shut it.” Rook bit back with a smirk of her own before it faltered. “Was it really that loud?” She asked with a lowered voice.

“Nah, I’m just messing with you. You couldn’t hear it unless you were close to the door.” His smile suddenly turned nervous, and he lifted his hand to scratch the back of his head. “About that, Assan caught your scent and ran over to the door while he was playing with Greta, so…”

Neve couldn’t help but feel her cheeks flush at the comment, and her eyes tracked over to the other woman, who was doing a very bad job at pretending not to listen.

“I think you’re going to owe cake tax.” He laughed at Rook again.

“Cake tax?” Neve quizzed, the off-hand comment pulling her from her thoughts.

“When one of us messes up, we have to make up for it by bringing in cake for everyone.” Rook rolled her eyes as she recounted the rule, squeezing Neve’s hand in assurance that the cake tax was worth it.

“Well. As long as Rook’s not the one baking it,” she drawled, earning a chuckle from Davrin.

“You’re one to talk, Miss ‘I can’t be bothered to use the coffee machine so I just boil it.’” Rook shot back with an affectionate grin. She studiously ignored the pout Greta gave them from the other side of the room.

“Hey, gather ‘round,” Evka calls out, and Rook sighs.

“The work never ends. Could you wait in the lounge for me? I’m hoping she won’t keep us too long…” Her eyes raked over the crowd of tired, dirty firefighters clustered by their captain.

“Of course. Go do your thing.” Neve planted a quick peck on Rook’s cheek and watched as she joined her coworkers, tamping down her growing anxiety. The lounge was just a hallway away; she wouldn’t be going very far. But the idea of losing sight of Rook made her feel like her stomach was being tied in knots.

She couldn’t just stand here. Tearing her gaze from Rook, she forced herself to head into the lounge, where she curled up in one of the big armchairs and waited for Rook to finish up.

She must have drifted off, because the next thing she knew, she was being gently shaken awake. Rook peered down at her with a fond smile. “Sorry that took so long.”

Neve yawned, stretching her limbs out like a cat. “How long has it been?”

“Only about twenty minutes,” Rook smirked at her affectionately. “Seems like you’re a bit worn out?”

“Since when were you the detective?” Neve snarked back.

“Guess you’ve rubbed off on me.”

“I quite enjoy that,” Neve smirked, grabbing at the collar of Rook’s shirt to pull their faces close together. “Or did you forget the shower?”

Rook couldn’t hold back her snort, which turned into a full-blown chuckle when a hushed “Really, guys?” was huffed from the other side of the door.

“Greta really hates me.” Neve chuckled along with Rook, pulling her closer still to capture her lips. It was a messy kiss—both women laughing too much for it to be anything more than a clumsy clashing of lips and teeth, but it was exactly what they needed. “How was the debrief?”

“The fire’s under control, and as far as we’ve heard, all the demons have been dealt with. The Templars swooped in while we were there. Knowing those guys, they’ll end up taking all the credit. And…” Rook’s face fell. “Aside from Davrin, another three of my squadmates ended up hospitalized. Two of them should be out as early as tomorrow, but the third… might not make it.”

Neve’s heart ached. Rook may have made it unscathed, but she always felt so responsible for her teammates, like she needed to protect them. Not knowing if one was going to pull through… that was going to be rough. Neve squeezed her hips, eyes clear with understanding. “I’m so sorry.”

Rook shrugged it off, turning her face to regain her composure. “They’re tough. They’ll get through this. In the meantime, Evka’s given the whole squad the rest of the week off. Offered up some psych services, if we need.”

“Not the worst thing to consider,” Neve remarked, but she suspected Rook wasn’t likely going to take the offer. She felt too much like she always had to hold it together.

“What this really means,” Rook said, perking up, “is that I get to spend some more time with you over the next few days. Maybe tag along, help you solve some cases,” she added with a goofy grin. Neve couldn’t hold back her chuckle.

“Is that right?”

“I’ll be your assistant, help you take notes.”

“You know your handwriting is worse than mine, right?”

“I’ll type them on my phone.”

Neve grinned, pressing her forehead to Rook’s. “We’ll see. Now let’s go and order some food, you must be even more famished than I am.”

Rook shrugged nonchalantly. “I could eat out again.”

“Agai—oh.” Neve rolled her eyes. “C’mon, Trouble. Let’s get you home.”

*Dispatch, this is Engine 118 on scene at the factory fire.* Evka’s voice crackled over the radio in Neve’s office as it picked up the city’s emergency channel, and the detective stiffened immediately upon hearing Rook’s engine number. *It’s bigger than reported. Can you send back up engines?*

*No further engines available 118. I’m afraid you’re on your own.* The dispatcher responded, and Neve couldn’t help but feel a chill run down her spine. Her eyes flicked to the radio. Normally, she’d be annoyed by the distraction, but today her attention was grabbed for good reason.

*That’s not good enough, Dispatch. My crew have just come back from serious incident leave. I’m not sending them in there without backup.*

*There’s no other option, Captain. There are civilians inside.*

There was a long pause before Evka’s voice crackled through the speaker again.

*Copy. Engine 118 proceeding.*

“Neve.” Rana’s voice broke the detective from her stupor as she pulled the plug on the radio, cutting it off from the outside world, “You can’t torture yourself like this.”

Neve was already halfway out of her seat, hand outstretched to the radio. At Rana’s insistent look, she sat back down, burying her face in her hands. “She keeps getting thrown into these dangerous situations…”

“That’s her job, Neve. It has risks, just like ours.”

“She almost didn’t make it out of that last fire, Rana. She’s still shaky. What if this is the one that does her in?”

“We can’t do anything from here, and obsessing over the radio will only make it worse,” Rana added wisely, stepping over to place a tentative hand on Neve’s shoulder. “She was doing this job for years before you met her. She’s experienced, she’s trained, she knows what she’s doing.”

“Tables turn, Rana. We know that as well as anyone.” Neve stared back, her voice a mix of half-sigh and half-bite.

“She’s not Brom, Neve.”

“No, fires are harder to bargain with than a gun.”

Neve’s comment was met with a pitiful huff from her friend. Instead of biting back, Rana decided to change tactics, hopping on the corner of Neve’s desk to look at her as she held her head in her hands.

“Do you want her to leave her job?” She asked, voice softer than Neve expected.

“No, wh—” Neve furrowed her brow as she lifted her head.

“Because she will.” Rana gave her a pointed look as if to emphasise her point. “What do you think she’d do if she knew you were reacting this badly? Listening in on every emergency call she gets?”

“I—”

“If you’re this worried, you need to talk to her about it.”

“No,” Neve decided, “this is my problem, not hers. I can’t ask her to give up her career. I just need to…find a way to handle it.”

Rana gave her another look, but it looked like she’d decided to drop it. “Fine. Radio stays off, though.”

Neve swallowed a sigh and nodded. “Fine.”

Neve spent the day chewing her lip, feeling anxiety clawing its way out of her chest. She hated the feeling. No leads were chased, no notes were taken, no clues tied together—instead, all she could focus on was thoughts of Rook. How she was feeling being back at work. If she was okay.

She had half a mind to turn the radio back on, maybe even take it somewhere Rana couldn’t overhear, but she hated to admit the other detective was right. She thought about texting Rook, but if she was still at the fire, she wouldn’t have her phone on her. Seeing her messages go unread would just make her more anxious.

Finally, as the sun set over Dock Town, Neve wrapped up her few remaining tasks and left the office. Instead of swinging by Hal’s for a quick dinner or dropping into the Cobbled Swan, she headed straight home to the apartment she shared with Rook.

Her stomach was in knots by the time she stood in front of their apartment door. She steeled herself, took out her keys, and let herself in.

Rook’s sneakers lay abandoned by the door, her keys hanging on their hook. A wave of relief potent enough to make her sway washed through Neve. Rook was already home. She kicked off her own boots and dropped her bag, padding quietly with her socks on through the apartment. The bathroom door was closed, and behind it, she could hear the shower running. She leaned her forehead against the wall, her quiet sigh releasing even more tension. Safe. Rook was safe.

With all of the fear and anxiety she’d been carrying around all day dissipating, something else grew in its place: hunger. Desire. Without even thinking about it, she stripped down right there in the hallway and snuck into the bathroom, being careful not to slip on the tiles with her prosthetic.

“Neve?” Rook called from behind the shower curtain, and Neve’s heart pounded. She needed Rook. She ached for her.

“Hey, Trouble,” she purred in response, stepping into the shower. Rook was washing the suds from her hair, squinting as she tried to see through the soap. “Good first day back?”

Neve didn’t wait to hear Rook’s answer. Instead, she closed the few feet that separated them, stalking like a predator with its eyes on easy prey. Her tongue slipped across her bottom lip as she leaned in to capture Rook’s lips. She pushed one hand on Rook’s sternum to firmly guide her back, and the other to balance herself against the tiled wall.

Neve kissed Rook like she was the air she needed to breathe—like she was starving and Rook was a banquet. There was no pretence of romance or foreplay, only Neve’s primal need for her girlfriend causing the water to run hotter.

Rook’s blinks came almost as fast as the beating of her heart as she desperately tried to process what was happening. She started to make a noise in protest, but Neve only kissed her harder, sliding her leg in between Rook’s bare thighs. Her hips pushed forward automatically, seeking pressure.

Neve scraped her nails from Rook’s chest, to her shoulders, and down her arms, sending goosebumps up Rook’s body. Rook didn’t protest—instead, she dug her fingers into Neve’s thighs, pressing hard enough to leave little red marks. She moaned as Neve rocked her leg up against her core, the friction already starting to get her going. Rook’s hands slid downwards, palming Neve’s ass and pulling her closer so she could grind harder against her. She groaned into the kiss, feeling Neve’s leg get slicker with her own need.

Rook was given a brief reprieve from the onslaught as Neve leaned down to nip at her jaw, and she tilted her head back against the wall to give Neve better access. She revelled in the feeling of her hot mouth against her skin.

“Mmm, what brought this on?” She hummed.

“Do I need a reason?” Neve retorted almost instantly, dragging her teeth across Rook’s skin.

“No, but it’s nice to know for special occasions… or birthdays.” Rook’s eyelids fluttered closed as Neve began to work on her neck.

“Just shut up and fuck me, Trouble.”

Rook didn’t need to be told again. Grinning, she pushed Neve back out of the stream against the cold wall. The sudden change in temperature made her gasp, goosebumps rising on her arms.

Neve was already aching for her. She watched hungrily through hooded eyes as Rook’s fingers reached between her legs. Her head fell backwards with a thunk when fingers met her needy slit, sliding between her wet folds and up to her swollen clit. Rook’s fingers were exquisite; she knew exactly where Neve needed to be touched. How Neve wanted her. What drove her absolutely wild.

“Yes, just like that,” she moaned as Rook circled her clit, “My good girl.”

The tips of Rook’s ears flushed; she ducked her head, suddenly bashful. Neve let out a sharp laugh, then moaned again as Rook’s fingertips quickened, more urgent than before. She couldn’t stop a look of satisfaction from crossing her face at the reaction her three words earned. Rook loved it when she was vocal, and she hated to admit that praise turned her on as much as it did.

Knowing she needed to be fucked with everything her firefighter had in her, she played into the fetish.

“Mmm, fuck Kyra. That’s it.” She breathed, voice cracking as the pleasure coursed through her body, “Oh Trouble, yeah…”

Rook responded with the closest thing to a growl that Neve had ever heard come from the woman, and she earned teeth biting into her collar in response to the praise. This time, though, Neve couldn’t conjure a response of her own. Without further hesitation, Rook slid two fingers inside her, moaning as she felt the wet heat of Neve’s cunt clench around her. With all Neve’s goading, she had forgotten how much her body needed to feel Rook—to understand that she was okay again, that she was still here again.

“You take me well, Neve,” Rook huffed into her ear, filling the woman with each thrust. “I love being inside of you…feeling every part of your body…feeling you clench around me…” She murmured, fucking Neve harder along with each of her desperate, needy moans. “Love feeling you come around my fingers…”

“Mm…Rook…” Neve managed to squeeze out between her pants and moans, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. Her hands grasped back at the tile behind her, seeking anything to steady her, but she couldn’t find purchase. So instead she clung to Rook, digging her nails into her lower back and pulling the woman even deeper inside of her. “Fuck, Trouble…oh fuck, oh fuck…!”

Rook could feel Neve drawing closer to the peak of her pleasure. She sank her teeth back into Neve’s neck, needing to taste the salt on her skin. Her fingers slowed; instead of fast and hard, she went for deep, languid, focusing on pressing against all the right spots, finding the ribbed stretch inside that drove Neve wild.

“Ah! Close, I’m so close,” Neve begged, “don’t stop, please don’t stop, Trouble, I’m so—ah!”

The first sign of Neve’s orgasm came in the form of silence—no sound filled the shower but the running water, Rook’s hard breathing and the wet sounds of Rook’s fingers thrusting in and out. Neve’s entire body thrummed through her silence—eyes squeezing shut, jaw falling slack, nails digging into Rook’s skin. When Neve’s voice finally returned to her, she all but screamed. Her chest vibrated through pulses of pleasure, pushing out enough high-pitched moans for her voice to break.

“Gods, Neve…” Rook whispered, wrapping her arms tightly around the other woman to keep her upright, “I can’t get enough of you…”

Neve panted into the crook of her neck, hot breath mingling with the shower’s mist. She felt fizzy, nerves still twitching from how hard she’d come. The first tear was a surprise; it streaked down her face, joining the stream of water still pouring onto Rook’s back. But once she started, she couldn’t stop. Neve started sobbing, clutching at Rook with desperation.

“Oh shit, are you okay?” Rook pulled her face far enough away to look at Neve, still keeping their bodies close enough together for Neve’s arms to wrap around her shoulders. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” Neve responded without hesitation, but the sobs racking her body didn’t allow her to say much more. Instead, all she could do was cling to Rook like her life depended on it.

She wasn’t too sure it didn't.

This didn’t seem to ease Rook’s worry; if anything, her brows furrowed more. “What happened, Neve?”

Neve just shook her head, unable to respond. It felt like a weight had settled upon her chest. Her throat had tightened like a vice, causing her breathing to suddenly take more effort than she was used to.

“Does this have something to do with today being my first day back?” Rook’s voice buzzed softly in her ears, and Neve could only grip her tighter in response.

Rook’s face fell, worry replacing the look of lust and satisfaction that had been present mere seconds ago. “I don’t want you to feel like this every time I go to work, Neve.” She cooed, planting a soft kiss on her girlfriend’s forehead as she carded a comforting hand through her hair. “You mean more to me than my job. I can find something safer.”

“No.”

“It’s okay, there are other jobs I can do—”

“No, dammit!” Neve pushed her away and turned, hands wrapping tightly around her middle, head bowed.

Rook put her hands up in consolation, even if Neve wasn’t looking at her. “Hey, it’s okay. Let’s… let’s talk about this later tonight, okay? Let me take care of you first. Is that okay?”

Neve hesitated, then gave her a shuddering nod.

“Okay. Give me one second.”

Rook leaned out of the shower, fumbling for the stool Neve used when she wasn’t wearing her prosthetic. Thankful for managing to find an apartment with an actually decent shower, she placed it down within the shower’s stream. While Neve took a seat and started unhooking her prosthetic, Rook squirted some of Neve’s shampoo into her hands, enjoying the scent of pomelo and mandarin wafting through the steam. She settled in front of Neve, letting her dampen her hair in the stream, and then started tenderly massaging the shampoo. Rook’s short nails scraped against Neve’s scalp, satisfied when a trail of goosebumps appeared upon her arms.

Neve exhaled, leaning her forehead into Rook’s stomach. She loved getting her hair washed—something about the mix of intimacy and sensation always calmed her down, and the head massage was certainly helping to clear the fog from her mind.

“Alright, rinse,” Rook chirped, and Neve leaned her head back into the stream, feeling the suds stream down her back.

With a tenderness that made Neve’s stomach flip, Rook continued washing her—first conditioning her hair, and then lathering her up with body wash. She hummed in pleasure as Rook swiped the loofah along her skin, thoroughly scrubbing up every inch of her.

When it came to washing Neve’s legs, Rook knelt onto the tiles, being extra careful when she soaped up Neve’s residual limb. She glanced up into Neve’s hooded eyes, and her own eyelids crinkled with love, a smile spreading over her face. Rook couldn’t resist sneaking in a kiss.

Neve smiled right back at her as their lips met, feeling the remaining tension melt from her body as she finally came to accept that Rook hadn’t gone anywhere.

Their foreheads pressed together; eyes meeting under hooded lids, noses touching softly. Their lips remained parted when the kiss ended, hot breath mingling against the steam of the shower. Neither of them needed to speak to understand what was happening between them, but Neve was the first to break the silence.

“I don’t need you to give up your job for me, Trouble.” Her voice came out so quietly that Rook wasn’t entirely sure she had spoken at all.

“Are you sure?” Rook breathed back, searching Neve’s eyes for any sort of hesitation or doubt, but finding something else entirely.

“Yes.” Neve’s warm gaze flickered between Rook’s eyes and her lips, “But I do need to feel you on me again.”

“Any time. Always,” Rook replied with a toothy grin.

Neve’s hands came up to cup Rook’s face, swipe her thumb on Rook’s cheek. Then she smirked wickedly, and her hands twined into the elf’s long auburn hair. Without breaking eye contact, she pushed Rook’s head down, down, until Rook was poised at the apex between her legs. She could feel Rook’s hot breath puffing, and she watched as her pupils dilated with desire.

“Now,” she commanded.

Rook couldn’t disobey. She scooted Neve’s hips forward and dove into Neve’s slit, moaning as Neve’s salty-slick desire coated her tongue. Neve’s hands wrapped around her hair tighter as she cocked her hips forward, seeking more pressure.

Neve was delicious. Rook couldn’t get enough of her, swiping her tongue along her opening and up to her peak with broad, flat strokes. She wanted to devour the woman, tease out every last bit of anxiety with her mouth. Neve let out a lusty moan, which only coaxed her further. Her tongue slid along her folds, teasing at her entrance. Rook rolled her tongue and worked it inside, feeling Neve’s juices drip onto her chin.

“T-Trouble—” Neve whimpered, hands gripping the back of Rook’s head for dear life. She tugged, pulling Rook into her by her hair and lifting her right leg over her girlfriend’s shoulder. “Fuck, yes…”

Rook wanted to respond—tell Neve how much she loved her, that she’d always come back home, but the iron grip Neve held on her hair left no room for question that this was what Neve needed; not words of reassurance that she could never be a hundred percent sure of, or words of love that Neve had heard a thousand times before, but the feeling of Rook on her—in her. The feeling of Rook working her body in a way only she could do—in a way that had ruined Neve for anyone else and left a lasting mark every time they touched. The feeling of Rook stoking a fire in the pit of her stomach that would never die.

Neve leaned back as far as the shower would allow, one hand remaining tangled in Rook’s hair while the other reached across to grip onto a shelf, knocking the soap and shampoo off in the process. Her eyes remained fixed on Rook’s as she lifted her other leg to wrap around Rook’s body.

Rook fucked her with her mouth, nose grinding into her clit. Her vision swam, barely bringing in any air. All that mattered was bringing Neve over the edge, making love to her with her lips, her tongue, her whole being. Neve’s legs squeezed around her, her fingernails dug into Rook’s scalp, and all Rook could do was moan along as she felt Neve approaching her climax. She couldn’t reassure her with words, sure. But this, maybe this, was what both of them needed.

The trembling started in Neve’s legs. With each thrust of her tongue, the trembling spread until Neve’s entire body was quivering, breath coming out in whines and pants. “Fuck, yes, oh yes, yes yes yes, Trouble…!” Neve keened, throwing her head back as she reached her peak. Her voice went silent, but her body did the talking, spasming around Rook. Her fingernails were sure to leave marks, though at least they’d be invisible under Rook’s hair.

Rook revelled in the feeling of Neve riding out her orgasm on her face, her slickness coating her from chin to the bridge of her nose. She lapped up every luscious drop of Neve’s release, more intoxicating than any ale or spirit. Neve was her own unique vintage that was Rook’s alone to savour.

Her tongue kept up its movements, running flat and soft over Neve’s entrance before tapering off to a point when it reached her clit, keeping the pressure steady as Neve rode her high, but loving the feeling of her body jolting with every flick across the bundle of nerves.

Neve’s breathing didn’t get a chance to settle before Rook’s tongue began to focus on her clit. One arm wrapped around Neve’s thigh, keeping her leg supported on her shoulder while she reached up to play with a hard nipple. The action earned another gasp, slightly warning in tone as Neve’s body continued to shudder from her orgasm.

“R-Rook, what are you—oh!” Neve was unable to complete the question—her breath being taken in a silent scream as Rook slipped three fingers inside; the pressure on Neve’s clit becoming unrelenting. Her hips bucked of their own accord, grinding harder against Rook’s tongue in the process and adding to the pressure of the digits pulsing inside her. Her face scrunched in agonizing pleasure, jaw falling slack as Rook built her up again.

It didn’t take long—Rook’s fingers hit just the right spot inside of her; once earned a loud, throaty moan. Twice earned a needy cry. On the third, Neve could only manage a strangled “Oh, fuck,” and the fourth undid her completely.

Her toes curled, muscles spasming as starbursts exploded behind her eyelids; every part of her twitched as she unravelled. The only thing keeping her up was Rook’s strong arms holding her steady while wave after wave of unrelenting pleasure cascaded over her. She couldn’t moan, she couldn’t even scream; every part of her locked as she crescendoed, her orgasm a symphony vibrating through her nerves.

When the last note of her orgasm subsided, Neve fell forward, collapsing onto Rook. Her eyes were blurry; the blood pumping in her ears was all she could hear. Neve could faintly feel Rook rubbing her back as she panted into Rook’s shoulder, sucking in breath like she was starving for oxygen.

“Shh, I’ve got you,” Rook murmured, nuzzling Neve’s damp hair with her nose. “I’m safe, and I’m here, and nothing will ever change that.”

“Fuck, Trouble,” were the first words Neve could manage, voice hoarse from the straining of her muscles, “I think I finally believe you.”

Warmth blossomed in Rook’s chest. She squeezed Neve into a tight hug, planting a kiss on her forehead. “Let’s dry off and have some dinner. Anywhere you want tonight, my treat.”

Neve chuckled into her arms. “What if I want to skip straight to dessert?”

“Hmm…” Rook pondered, as if really considering.

Neve arched her eyebrows, and Rook broke into a grin.

“I think that can be arranged.”