Flashpoint: - noun; the lowest temperature at which a liquid can vaporize and ignite.
It's been ten years since I originally posted the first chapter to this AU fic. The original draft of the second chapter was erased when my old laptop finally gave up the ghost, so there will likely be some changes in general writing style and flow. This is the first writing I've done in a decade.
This is still an Elsanna fic. It is up to you to decide whether or not that suits your fancy.
Major angst ahead.
The contrast of the overhead circular lights in the back of the ambulance cut sharply into what was originally supposed to be a peaceful night, a rectangular pillar of light shined from the open rear doors that highlighted the thin smoke that still lingered lazily in the immediate vicinity of the apartment complex. Red and blue strobes bounced off the diamond plate of the open doors and surrounding homes. Elsa wanted desperately to believe this was just another nightmare.
A loud hissing noise and the sensation of wind blowing onto her face forced her eyes wide open, the idea that this was a dream of any sort was abandoned. A clear, oval shaped plastic device covered her nose and mouth and was the source of the awful noise.
Bleary-eyed, Elsa looked around wildly in an attempt to grasp her surroundings. With her right hand, she pulled at the mask covering her face and managed to pull it halfway down before a searing pain caused her to gasp and release the mask. Her hand. She forgot that she burned it on the knob of her front door. The sight of the waxy textured appearance of her palm caused sudden nausea. She then tried to withdraw her left arm, which was held firmly by an unknown man in a navy blue button-down uniform and black pants.
The man spoke hastily but with a soft, re-assuring tone, "Ma'am please try to relax, you're in an ambulance. My name is Mattias, I'm a paramedic. You were in a house fire. I need you to help me help you by calming-" Elsa pulled her arm free of Mattias' grasp and began trying to pull the blue rubber tourniquet off of her bicep. "Ma'am, please," Mattias urged with more expressed anxiety than he intended. "You're suffering from smoke inhalation. I know you're scared. But let us help you, we need to give you fluids and oxygen. It will help you feel better."
Elsa felt like her head was full of cotton and needles, her eyes still stung and lungs burned with the effort of each breath. It was as if she were back in her smoke-filled apartment, fighting for her very life. Her heart was thrashing in her chest and the man's words made little sense to her in the moment of utter panic.
"Ryder, I need your help back here!" Mattias shouted through the small opening between the box and the cab of the ambulance. A figure shifted suddenly from the driver's seat and within moments had bounded up the rear step and rushed to Elsa's right side, using both his hands to hold her arm down while trying to utter small reassurances, without success. Elsa felt like a trapped animal, desperate to wiggle her way free from presumed certain death. Ryder grunted with the effort of trying to keep the woman from fighting her way off of the stretcher.
"What's the plan, Matty? We can't work with this," Ryder asked, every few words coming out choppy with each jerking movement of their patient.
"I'm aware," Mattias replied with mild annoyance. He had let go of Elsa's left arm entirely and turned his attention to the vial and needle procured from the medication kit. He spoke as he withdrew medication from the vial, "This is called Midazolam, it's going to help you relax. We know you're scared, but you're gonna get hurt if you keep fighting us." Mattias then turned and in one swift motion, pulled Elsa's arm toward him to keep it still, and inserted the needle into her deltoid muscle. The sudden pain caused her to jump slightly, but the pressure on both her arms began to feel like lead weights keeping her grounded. Within a few minutes, Elsa felt as though she were going to sink right through the mattress of the stretcher. Ryder let go of her arm, the need to fight having drained away. He glanced at Mattias, who nodded at him affirmatively, the cue from the paramedic to begin transporting to the hospital. Ryder exited the rear of the ambulance, both doors closing with a loud clunk, before returning to the driver's seat and beginning an expedited journey to the emergency room.
Elsa's head lulled slightly upturned as she tried to bring anything into focus. Mattias adjusted the mask back onto her face, the oxygen felt more like a welcomed relief the second time around as she sucked her breath as deeply into her lungs as she could without coughing. The paramedic was able to establish an IV in her left arm without difficulty, Elsa shuddered at the sensation of the room-temperature fluid entering her veins. By the time the ambulance arrived at the hospital, her hands had been bandaged and her body had accepted nearly an entire liter of IV saline.
A flurry of medical providers rushed to either side of the hospital bed as Elsa felt herself being transferred from the ambulance cot, momentarily cradled in a white sheet as her body was pulled across to the new bed. She couldn't help but relish in the brief comfort amidst the chaos, feeling completely supported and comforted by strangers in a way she couldn't recall even feeling from her family.
Family.
"What a useless term for people who bring you into this life with no intention of keeping you," Elsa thought bitterly. It was the most coherent thought she had in however much time had gone by since this all began. An hour? Probably less, but she couldn't be sure. What she was certain of, was how much her throat and chest hurt. The effort of breathing felt nearly unbearable, Elsa found herself suddenly more exhausted than ever. The chatter of multiple people at once blended into a muted din as the fluorescent lights above her began to lose their shape. The sharp pinging of machines indicating the decline of her oxygen saturation and respiratory rate joined the parade of noise and Elsa felt more calm than she could ever recall. The effort to pull air into her lungs lessened, and she felt a hand pull the mask off, replacing it with a more firm one with a rubber-like seal around it. She felt air being forced into her lungs, someone else breathing for her. Elsa felt the urge to fight return, but could not find the strength to lift her limbs. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes her sluggish mind suddenly seeming to shuffle through thoughts and emotions at the speed of light, "This must be what dying actually feels like."
Despite all the ways Elsa fought for her entire life to escape the weight of rejection, loneliness, and resentment, the idea of escaping through death never crossed her mind. She had always wanted to become a success story, someone who defied the odds of the cards that she was dealt in this life. Now, it all seemed to be for naught.
Avoiding looking at the blurry faces looming over her cold and shivering body, Elsa focused on keeping her mind thinking as clearly as possible to stay awake. She thought about how shattering the bedroom window alerted someone to help her. She wondered who it was, her unknown savior. She felt overwhelmed with gratitude, vowing that if she made it out of this, she would find who it was.
"Is the intubation kit ready?" a voice cut through Elsa's train of thought, it was then that she realized she couldn't tell if she was even awake anymore. As she pondered her life and what she would do to find her rescuers, she realized she had gone from looking upward, to looking down at herself. She saw a seemingly lifeless body lying before her with a mass of shifting white coats and blue scrubs moving in and out of the room. Someone pulled the large exam light down closer to the person's face – her own face – and the mask was removed as another provider moved to begin placing a breathing tube, the ventilator already powered on and whirred rhythmically in the background. In an instant, it was as though all the lights were switched off and there was nothing but the distant sound of life-saving work in progress.