Daniel never left Emma's side at the hospital—not even for a second. The emergency room bustled quietly around them—nurses coming and going, monitors beeping—but Daniel stayed in the chair beside her bed, unmoving. His uniform was still covered in soot, his shoulders tense, and his eyes locked on her face. The doctors had told him she was okay—just smoke inhalation, minor burns, and extreme exhaustion—but until she opened her eyes and spoke, he couldn't breathe easy.
Hours passed in a blur, the clock ticking endlessly as he held her hand, gently tracing patterns over her skin.
Finally, her eyes fluttered open—blinking slowly until they focused on him. She smiled, weak but full of warmth, and it broke him.
"You stayed," she whispered, her voice raspy but full of quiet surprise.
Daniel let out a shaky breath, brushing his thumb across her knuckles before gently lacing their fingers together. "I'm done running, Emma," he said, his voice rough with emotion, raw in a way he'd never allowed himself to be.
She inhaled sharply, her fingers tightening slightly in his as his words sank in.
He kept going. "I was stupid," he said, his grip firm but gentle. "I thought keeping my distance would protect you. But today…" His voice cracked. He saw it all again—the fire, the fear, the thought he might be too late. "I realized that losing you would be worse than any risk."
Emma's eyes filled with tears, her throat tightening as she took in his words. Seeing Daniel—usually so composed—this open, this vulnerable, made her heart skip a beat.
Then, with a quiet breath, he said it. "So… if you still want me…" His thumb brushed gently over her wrist, like he needed to feel her heartbeat. "I'm all yours."
For the first time since the fire, Emma let the tears fall. They slipped down her ash-smudged cheeks, soft and silent. A shaky laugh escaped her as she squeezed his hand. "Took you long enough, Captain."
Daniel chuckled, rough but real. The tension in his body melted as he leaned down and kissed her forehead, his lips lingering there like a quiet promise. Emma closed her eyes, letting herself melt into him—his strength, his warmth, the steady comfort she had missed so much.
She had waited. Through his silence, through the pain, through the fear. And now, in his arms, with his heartbeat strong and steady against hers, she knew: he was finally home.
*****
Daniel refused to let Emma leave the hospital alone. The moment her discharge was approved, he was at her bedside, keys in hand and jaw set with that stubborn look she knew too well.
"I can take a cab," she said, trying to sound convincing as she sat up. But her voice was still weak, and her trembling hands betrayed her.
Daniel gave her a firm look—the kind that made rookie firefighters freeze. "You inhaled a lot of smoke, Emma," he said, taking her bag from her hands without asking. "You shouldn't even be walking."
She sighed, but didn't argue. Deep down, she didn't mind his protectiveness. He'd always been strong and steady, but now it was different—more personal. Every action, every glance, was filled with quiet care.
The drive to her apartment was quiet. Rain tapped softly on the windows. The engine hummed. Daniel kept glancing at her, just to make sure she was okay. His hands gripped the wheel tightly every time she shifted, as if he needed to remind himself—she was here, she was safe, and this time, he wouldn't let her go.
When they arrived at her apartment, Daniel didn't just drop her off with a quick goodbye. He followed her inside, his heavy boots echoing on the wooden floor. His sharp eyes scanned every corner like a man trained to assess danger—and refusing to let his guard down now. He checked the smoke detector, peeked into her kitchen, even frowned at the thermostat as he adjusted it.
Emma leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, a small smile playing on her lips. "Are you inspecting my place?"
"Yes," he said flatly, pressing the smoke detector again. It gave a weak beep before going silent. His frown deepened. "Battery's low. I'll fix it later."
She shook her head, laughing softly. "You're impossible."
He turned then, and the worry in his face eased into something softer. "No," he said quietly, stepping closer, "I just don't want to risk losing you."
Her heart skipped. The sincerity in his voice, the look in his eyes—it hit her like a wave. She moved closer, step by step, until she could feel the warmth of him, could see the faint smudges of soot still on his skin.
Without a word, she wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest. His heartbeat was steady beneath her ear, grounding her in a way nothing else could.
Daniel froze for a moment—then his arms closed around her, strong and certain. He held her tightly, as if he needed the connection just as much as she did. His chin rested on her head, his breath stirring her hair, and he clung to her like she was something he never wanted to lose again.
She closed her eyes and breathed him in—smoke, sweat, and something that was simply him. His fingers traced slow circles on her back, calming her, holding her, letting her know without words that she was safe—and his.