The light of the flames beneath the door gave the room an unearthly glow, shadows flickering between the smoke and across the walls. Zoe's thoughts drifted to what a fitting death it would be - the smoker killed by the fire - and wondered briefly if they'd write it on her grave. Not very pleasant thoughts, but planning the logistics of her death was better than even contemplating the actual act of burning alive...
She hauled the oxygen tank towards her, grimacing as she crawled over to check Frank's obs. She should've left when Nick had called them, should've gone with Dylan when he went to see what the situation was. She could be outside now, making sure Frank was at St. James, comforting Nick, heading off for a drink with the team. Her phone had packed in long ago and that was the worst part - she had no idea if Dylan had managed to get out alive, no idea how long, if it ever happened, it would take for them to rescue Frank and herself. No idea if she would live past the next hour.
Suddenly, an explosion rang out, the blinding light that followed illuminating her surroundings for a split second. She blinked against it, holding her hands up automatically as the ceiling above her creaked ominously, a fine cloud of dust falling and mingling with the thick smoke before there was another loud creak and a chunk of ceiling on the other side of the room crashed to the floor.
Breathing heavily, she looked up nervously before slowly dragging Frank to the corner of the room, dredging a memory from somewhere that they were the most stable part of rooms. She slumped against the wall, coughing as the smoke stung the back of her throat. Her mind wandered again and she found herself thinking of Nick. It always did when she was alone, but her imminent death made the tragic pointlessness of the situation all too clear. All those times she'd wanted to say something, to make him understand and now she might never see him again, never mind stage their reconciliation. There was so much she might never do again, so much that she took for granted. Things like winding Dylan up, or getting very drunk with Jay, or curling up on her own in front of the TV. Right now, she'd even be elated to have a lecture from Ruth if it meant walking out of there alive.
There was another explosion, further away, and she glanced around the room nervously, her heart sinking as she realised that she'd left the oxygen where Frank's bed had been. She scrambled as quickly as she could towards it, fumbling with the tank before she took a deep breath, closing her eyes at the bliss of having clean air. As she did so, the ceiling above her gave an almighty crack and she swore as something heavy hit her just above the eye, the room crashing down around her. Lifting a trembling hand to her head, she only just had time to glance over at Frank, who was somehow miraculously untouched by the rubble surrounding him before she blacked out.
She woke with a start, as though someone had roused her from a deep sleep. The first thing she noticed was the throbbing in her skull and her right leg; the second was how uncomfortably warm the room suddenly was. Slowly pushing herself into a sitting position she took in her surroundings with a rising feeling of dread. The fire had crept in the room and was beginning to burn fiercely along the left hand side, the heat making her skin itch and her dress cling to her, covered in sweat and blood and dust. Her left eye was swollen completely shut and the hand she hand touched it with before collapsing was sticky with blood. Uneasily, she finally looked at her leg, forcing herself to be clinical rather than emotional. The metal beam that had fallen on it had cut clean through to the bone, and the pain mixed with the bloodied mess in front of her made her retch, gasping for breath. In the distance she heard screams and another explosion, the faint sound of sirens coming much too late. She fell back against the floor, too tired to cry out in pain or call for help, resigned to her fate. There were worse ways to go - she was in the building she loved, in a room full of memories of people she adored and safe in the knowledge that it was likely that given Frank was away from the flames and hadn't been injured by the collapsed roof, he would survive.
From somewhere in her subconscious Nick's voice appeared, calling her name, and she smiled to herself, letting it pull her away from the horror of reality. The pain in her leg was still there but she almost felt detached from it, as though it was happening to somebody else. Smoke filled her lungs, the flames danced ever closer and she grinned manically, the irony of her death suddenly darkly hilarious. Shutting her eyes, she allowed Nick's voice to wash over her, forced herself to concentrate on that rather than the pain, determined that her last living moments would be with him, whether imagined or not.
Sorry it's so short! It was meant to be a one shot but got so long so I had to split it. I'll try and update again today, depending on whether my wifi behaves or not. Hope y'all enjoyed it, pretty please R&R?