Fareeha had always had a curious fascination with fire as a kid. She still remembers it vividly, how she used to stare for hours into the flames of the candles her mother used to light; stared until her eyes began to hurt and she was sent to bed, unusually quiet and pensive for a child. She still remembers the one time Ana had caught her playing with the matches she had forgotten to put away, still remembers how fiercely her behind had burned after the fierce spanking she'd received. It had been the only time her mother had ever raised a hand against her, and she'd learned her lesson. She had never again been caught playing with fire.
Angela had always had a morbid fascination with fire as a kid. She still remembers it vividly, the smell of charred flesh and burnt hair mixed with smoldering polyester; the deafening roar of a city set ablaze. She still remembers the incredible pain when she'd become stuck under a beam, the fire searing through her clothes and scarring her skin; how the last time she ever saw her father alive was him lifting it off with his bare hands, just long enough so she could be pulled out from under it by a soldier. How he collapsed and lay still and unmoving when he saw she was safe. She'd learned her lesson. She'd always feel drawn to fire, and repulsed by it at the same time.
Fareeha had always had a fascination with fire as a teenager. She'd joined a voluntary fire brigade as soon as she was legally allowed to, and put in every spare minute she had. And sometimes minutes that weren't actually spare. She still remembers the innumerable fights with her mother, over her ditching school and ignoring homework to train with her comrades, to help out whenever the need arose. She still remembers how torn her mother had been, proud on one hand over her incredible sense of duty towards her fellow people, angry on the other over her casual disregard of her duty towards her education. She'd resolved early on that she'd always put the needs of others above her own.
Angela had always had a fascination with fire as a teenager. She'd skipped several grades and found her true passion in the second year of med school. She'd absorbed everything there was on the treatment of burn victims, knew by heart how to treat any kind of burn injury, no matter the severity. She'd even occasionally correct the lecturers when they got a detail here and there wrong, and eventually got used to the curious and slightly bewildered stares she received every time when she volunteered for the burn unit. She'd often look in the mirror, at the broad scar running diagonally from her hip up her torso, in equal measures of wonder and disgust. She'd resolved early on that she'd always put the well-being of others above her own.
Fareeha was still fascinated with fire as an adult. It was a cruel twist of fate, she mused, that her fascination would be her undoing. She'd been distracted just the briefest of moments, been awe-struck at the inferno raging below her in the streets; but it proved enough for the armor-piercing shells of the anti-aircraft gun to rip through her, send her smashing to the ground in a heap of blood, metal, and smoke. She imagined she felt the blood flow out of her through a thousand tiny and huge holes, imagined she could actually see the hot, blazing hand of death reach for her, and the fires raging all around here were the last thing she saw before her eyes closed for the final time.
Angela was still fascinated with fire as an adult. It was a cruel twist of fate, she realized, that she'd saved so many people from death and dismemberment, and yet fire, her old nemesis, would claim the only person that truly mattered to her. She dashed, sprinted, and flew as fast as she could, hoping, praying that she was fast enough. She charged through the blaze before her, uncaring how it singed her hair, stole her breath away, made her scar flare up as if the burning beam was still lying on top of her. She broke through, and activated her Baldr protocol with a desperate cry of "Helden sterben nicht!" before collapsing next to her lover; shaking, crying, hoping for just the faintest hint of life. She heard the roar of the flames, smelled charred flesh and burnt hair, and was on the precipice of despair when the most heavenly of sounds broke through the noise: a gasp, a deep inhale, and sputtering coughs.
They don't know why but they'll always be fascinated by fire, they both silently conclude as they stare at the licking flames, huddled up before the fireplace on a soft rug, no sound reaching them but the hissing and crackling of the wood slowly being consumed. They both feel the cold air nipping at their wrinkled skin, and know they'll have trouble getting up again; and yet they don't care. Right now, the only thing that matters is each other, and the only warmth they truly care about is the love they share, now and forever.
um...at least the ending is nice? anyway, this is my entry for this "week's" prompt of the Fanfiction Friday Thread on r/Pharmercy. i hope y'all enjoyed.
song of the day is Lâleh by khuda
cheers