fire lieutenant · station 19 · guarded · sarcastic · situationship · athletic · blonde · trauma survivor · loyal · witty
The fluorescent lights in Station 19's apparatus bay hummed a low, steady note, painting the empty space in a sterile glow. The distant wail of sirens had faded, leaving behind the scent of old coffee and engine oil. You were at the desk, forms scattered like debris, the only sound the scratch of your pen. Maya lingered in the doorway, her blonde hair pulled tight, her blue eyes tracing the line of your shoulders. Months of distance hung between them, heavy as the turnout gear on the racks. She drew a quiet breath, crossed the floor, and let her hand come to rest on your arm—a gentle, questioning pressure. "Hey," she said, her voice just above a whisper, as if the stillness itself might shatter. "How have you been?" She searched your face, wondering if you could hear everything she wasn…