#jack gibson

Your head snapped up. “I am not stepping back.”

“You are,” Amelia said softly. She stood shoulder to shoulder with Bailey, forming a wall. “You’re too close.”

“I’m fine.” Your voice cracked. It betrayed you instantly.

Amelia reached out, steadying your arm. “You love him.”

You froze. She didn’t take it back.

And then Link and Nico slid the gurney into Trauma One and Jack groaned — really groaned — and your body moved without thought.

You followed him in. Bailey didn’t stop you this time. She knew better. You just weren’t allowed to touch him.

You grabbed the chair beside his head and sat down so quickly you barely felt the metal under you.

Jack’s eyes cracked open. Unfocused. Bleary. “Doc… hey…”

You bit down a sob so hard your teeth hurt. “Hi, Jack.”

“You’re here,” he slurred.

“Yeah. I’m here.”

He relaxed instantly, like your voice was morphine.

Link worked on resetting his forearm. “Displaced radial fracture,” he muttered. “We need to reduce it.”

Jack hissed, head tilting toward you like he was looking for a place to put his pain.

You reached out — then stopped short, hand suspended in midair, because you weren’t allowed to touch him.

He noticed. Even concussed, he noticed. “Doc…” he whispered. “S’alright. I’m okay.”

You shook your head fiercely, eyes filling, throat closing. Amelia swiped at the blood on his forehead, checking pupils. “Jack, follow my finger.”

His gaze drifted. “But she’s crying.” Your breath shuddered out of you. “Hey,” he murmured, slurring around the vowels. “Don’t cry. ’M fine. Just a scratch.”

It was not a scratch. His arm cracked loudly when Link set it, and Jack’s whole body jerked off the bed. You slapped your hand over your mouth to keep from screaming.

You weren’t supposed to feel this much. Not for a patient. Not for a friend.

But Jack wasn’t just that. He’d become your person. Slowly. Quietly. All at once. And you hadn’t realized it until the moment you thought you might lose him.

A tear fell onto your scrubs. Jack saw it.

Even dazed, his face tightened with something like heartbreak. “Doc… don’t. Please.”

Amelia glanced at you — seeing everything. “I’ve got him. Just be here.”

So you stayed by his head, hands clenched in your lap so you didn’t reach for him. You watched every wince, every groan, every flicker of fear across his face.

And the memories hit you like aftershocks.

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Flashback 1 — Hot Doctor Incident

Jack walked into the bay with a firefighter’s confidence and a toddler’s sense of invincibility.

He had a mild burn on his palm — nothing serious — and was joking loudly with Maya and Vic. They didn’t notice you walk up behind them.

“Dude,” Jack said, examining his hand dramatically, “if this gets me treated by the hot doctor with the nice laugh? Totally worth it.”

Travis snorted. “Jack, every doctor here is hot.”

“No,” he corrected, shaking his head like a golden retriever with Very Strong Opinions. “Not the hot doctor. The one with the scrubs that fit right and the voice that could probably talk me out of a burning building.”

“Gibson,” Maya deadpanned. “That’s poetic. And embarrassing.”

He shrugged. “Look, I know what my heart wants.”

You cleared your throat. Jack turned. And froze.

You raised a single eyebrow. “Hot doctor, huh?”

His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. “I—I didn’t—uh—I meant—uh—”

Maya clapped him on the back. “Good luck, buddy.”

You crossed your arms and waited. He swallowed. Hard. “You… heard that?”

“Oh, absolutely.” You inspected his hand like it wasn’t already the best moment of your week. “And for the record? Your laugh isn’t terrible, either.”

His eyes went wide. “Are you… flirting with me?”

You scoffed. “You can barely form a sentence. That’s not flirting material.” He flushed so red Travis had to look away to keep from laughing.

But later — much later — he overheard you talking to Amelia at the coffee cart.

“Who was your patient earlier?” Amelia asked. “The one Bishop said was hopelessly in love with you?”

You rolled your eyes. “Just the hot firefighter again.”

Jack, halfway down the hall, nearly choked. Amelia grinned like a gremlin. “Hot firefighter?”

“It slipped,” you said quickly. “Don’t start.”

He pressed himself against the wall like hiding would make you unhearable. But he didn’t call you on it. He held onto that moment like a secret.

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Flashback 2 — Favorite Complication

He wasn’t injured. Not really. A scrape on his forearm. Barely bleeding. A wound that a toddler Band-Aid could’ve handled.

But Jack Gibson was perched on your gurney like it was his throne, swinging his legs and smiling at you like you’d just walked into his favorite bar.

You narrowed your eyes as you stepped inside. “Explain.”

Jack brightened. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you repeated, unimpressed. “Why are you here?”

He held up his arm dramatically. “Sustained a traumatic injury.”

You inspected the scrape. “This is a paper cut with ambition.”

“It hurts,” he insisted, pout exaggerated.

“It doesn’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do know that,” you countered, pulling on gloves. “I went to med school.”

He leaned back on his elbows, watching you with way too much interest. “Do you use that line on all your patients?”

You shot him a flat stare. “Only the ones wasting my time.”

Jack gasped, hand to his chest. “Wasting your time? Doc, I’m offended. Deeply. Emotionally. Spiritually.”

You rolled your eyes so hard you almost lost balance. “Jack.”

He perked. “You said my name again. I love when you say my name.”

Your stomach did a stupid flutter. You refused to let him see it, but you felt your cheeks warming.

Focus. Just do the stupid bandaid. Do not banter with the handsome firefighter.

You cleaned the scrape quickly. “There. You’re fine.”

“Great,” he said, hopping off the gurney. “So now that my life-threatening injury is resolved—”

“Oh my God,” you muttered under your breath.

“—I can tell you why I really came.”

You stopped. “Please don’t say something stupid.”

Jack’s grin was slow and wicked. “Wanted to see you.”

Your breath caught. You hated that it caught.

“That’s not how hospitals work,” you said briskly.

“That’s how I work,” he said casually, hands sliding into his pockets.

“You can’t just walk in here because you feel like flirting.”

He stepped closer. “Should I schedule an appointment?” Your mouth opened. Nothing came out. Jack laughed softly, eyes crinkling. “Doc… you’re blushing.”

“I am not.”

“Yeah, you are.”

“Shut up.”

He held up both hands. “Not shutting up. I’m enjoying this.”

You grabbed a bandaid and slapped it onto his arm with unnecessary force.

“OW—okay. Yes. Deserved that.”

You crossed your arms. “Go back to your station.”

“Do you want me to?”

The question hit lower than expected.

You swallowed.

“Yes,” you said, sounding unconvincing even to yourself.

Jack smirked. “Liar.”

“Goodbye, Lieutenant.”

He backed toward the door. “Goodnight, Doc.”

“Jack.”

He paused. “Yeah?”

You exhaled once, shaky. “Don’t make a habit of this.”

He winked. “Too late.”

Then he left. You stared after him for a full thirty seconds. That was the night he became your favorite complication.

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Flashback 3 — Coffee and Flowers

You’d had a morning.Not just a “long shift,” not just a “three traumas before 10 a.m.” morning — No. A Grey Sloan soul-crushing morning.

You were running labs, reading scans, consulting on a bowel perf, and trying not to fall asleep standing up when you heard:

“Hey, Doc.”

Jack. You didn’t turn at first because if you looked at him while this exhausted, you might actually sit in his lap just for warmth—Not ideal.

But then you smelled caramel. You turned.

He stood there in uniform pants and a fitted shirt that was absolutely illegal, holding an iced mocha with caramel drizzle and a bouquet of mixed flowers — sunflowers, daisies, and one single white rose in the middle.

Your breath stilled. “What… is that?” you asked softly.

Jack smiled, warm and crooked. “This? Just a peace offering.”

“I’m not mad at you.”

“I know,” he said. “But you looked tired earlier. Thought this might help.”

You blinked rapidly. “You… noticed?”

His expression softened. “I always notice you.”

Oh.

Oh no.

Your heart did the thing.

You stepped toward him, fingers brushing the cold cup before you took it from his hand. “Jack…”

“Try it,” he said, suddenly shy.

You did. And it was perfect. Exactly how you take it. Exactly how you never told him you take it. You looked up at him, lips wrapped around the straw, and he looked like a man seeing the sun for the first time.

“How did you know?” you whispered.

“Paid attention,” he murmured. “You make this face when your coffee’s too bitter.”

He mimicked you — a tiny annoyed scrunch of your nose — and you laughed so unexpectedly you almost choked.

He brightened instantly. “There it is.”

“There what is?”

“That smile,” he said simply. “Haven’t seen it today.”

Your throat went tight.

You shifted the flowers to your other hand, tracing one petal. “These are beautiful.”

“You like them?”

“I love them.”

And before you knew what you were doing —

Before you could talk yourself out of it —

You leaned forward and kissed him.

Light. Barely there. Just a whisper of a kiss, soft and warm and over too fast. Jack froze.

Then his eyes went wide, and he opened his mouth — maybe to say your name, maybe to confess everything he’d been holding — but you panicked, went bright red, and stepped back.

“I—I have to go—there’s a consult—I’ll see you later—maybe—okay bye!”

You spun and rushed toward the pit, face fully aflame, iced mocha sloshing dangerously.

Jack stood there like someone had unplugged his brain.

And then—“Wow,” Amelia’s voice said from behind him. “She KISSED you.”

Jack jumped. “Jesus, Shepherd!”

Amelia leaned on the counter, smirking. “That was adorable. Awkward as hell, but adorable.”

“She—she kissed me,” Jack repeated, still stunned, touching his lips lightly.

“She did,” Amelia confirmed. “And if you keep pulling moves like that”—she pointed at the flowers—“you’re gonna have to marry her.”

Jack huffed out a breath, smiling down at the flowers like a man in love with no intention of recovering.

“Bold of you to assume I haven’t already planned that.”

Amelia blinked. “You what?”

Jack shrugged, dreamy and unbothered. “Just… you know. Thought about it.”

“You’ve known her four months.”

“Five,” Jack corrected softly. “And I’ve liked her for five months and one day.”

Amelia stared.

Then grinned the slow, feral grin of a woman who had just realized her best friend’s love life was about to become excellent television.

“Oh, this is going to be fun.”

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Present day

You entered the room after getting yourself water, his chart in hand, heartbeat in your throat. Jack looked up at you with eyes that had discovered fire. You stepped forward, checking his dressings, pretending everything was fine.

Then—because you couldn’t stop yourself—you reached out and brushed a bit of soot-mussed hair off his forehead.

Gentle. Instinctive. Too tender to hide. Jack didn’t speak. He didn’t think. He leaned up and kissed you.

Just a soft, startled kiss—his lips barely grazing yours, warm and hesitant and wanting.

You froze. He froze. The world froze. Then you stepped back, breath shaking. “Jack.”

“That,” he said, voice low and certain, “is why you can’t treat me.”

Your chest cracked open. “Yeah.”

He smiled, slow and devastating. “So… can I do it again?”

“No,” you said. He kissed you again anyways. “Jack!”

“I had to confirm,” he murmured, leaning in for a third.

You shoved his shoulder—gently—because his ankle was still set. “Jack—someone will see—”

“Yeah,” he breathed against your lips. “I really don’t care.”

You were about to push him away again when—

a voice cleared behind you.

You both jerked apart. Bailey stood in the doorway with her arms crossed, her judgment palpable. Ben hovered behind her, looking like a man who wanted popcorn.

You opened your mouth, panicked. “Chief—Mom—Link already fixed it—so technically —“ You winced. “I’m… under stress.”

She looked at Jack’s freshly splinted ankle. “If this turns into another mess like Stevens—”

“It won’t!” you insisted. “I’m not that stupid!”

Jack nodded enthusiastically. “It won’t!”

Bailey glared. “My ducks. All stupid. Every last one.”

You gasped. “MOM—she called me a duck!”

Bailey pinched the bridge of her nose. “If you’re going to make bad decisions, make them off my clock.”

She spun and marched off toward the nurses’ station. You pointed helplessly. “Ben—she called me a DUCK.”

Ben gave you the soft, long-suffering dad look. “Yeah… she calls all her kids ducks.”

Your heart squeezed. Found family hit you like a freight train. And because you were absolutely incapable of letting Bailey’s commentary go, you shouted after her:

“MOM—HEY—MOM DON’T WALK AWAY—TAKE BACK THE DUCK THING—” And you ran — actually ran — after your boss/mom, waving your hands dramatically while the entire pit watched like it was primetime television.

Once you were out of earshot, Ben turned slowly toward Jack. Jack was sitting on the gurney, hair mussed from your hands, lips a little swollen, eyes insanely starry. He looked like a man who’d been kissed hard and was already planning the next ten years.

Ben crossed his arms. Dad stance activated. “She’s not biologically mine,” he said quietly, “but she’s still mine. One of my kids. Miranda’s kid.” Jack’s expression sobered instantly. Ben continued, “Don’t mess this up.”

Jack swallowed. “I would never.”

“You sure?”

Jack didn’t hesitate. “Not with her.”

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Two days later

You ended your shift exhausted, half-angry, half-relieved, heart still raw.

He shouldn’t be back at the hospital. He shouldn’t be standing outside waiting for you.

He shouldn’t look that good leaning against his truck at dusk, arms crossed, jaw softening when he saw you.

“Don’t start,” you warned, marching toward him. “I swear to God, Jack, if you ever pull something like that again—”

He didn’t let you finish.

Jack stepped forward, cupped your face in both hands, and kissed you before your next breath formed.

Your hands flew to his wrists, holding on tight as he lowered himself to you, chest brushing yours, height towering over you in a way that felt protective, not intimidating.

The kiss wasn’t desperate this time. It was steady. Intentional. A confession. A promise.

He kissed you like he’d been waiting months and finally stopped pretending.

You broke only when air demanded it. His forehead rested against yours, breath warm against your lips.

“You can yell at me later,” he whispered. “But I needed this first.”

Your voice trembled. “You had no right.”

“You gave up your right to tell me no the moment you started worrying about me like that.”

You shoved his chest lightly. He didn’t move. Not an inch.

“You lovable idiot,” you whispered.

His smile spread slow and sure. “Your lovable idiot.”

“Jack…”

“I love you,” he said plainly. Like he’d been carrying it around for months and finally set it down. “Fell for you the first time you threatened to staple my mouth shut.”

Your breath hitched.

“Your turn,” he murmured, brushing your cheek with his thumbs.

You closed your eyes.

“I’m scared,” you whispered.

“I know.”

“I’ve lost people.”

“I know.”

“You… you can’t be another one.”

His voice softened, deepened, grounded you like warm hands on cold skin. “I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. Not unless you tell me to.”

You opened your eyes. And for the first time — you let yourself fall.

“Okay,” you said softly. “Okay, Jack.”

He kissed you again, smiling into it. Because he’d known all along.

- 'Gear room.'

The room was empty, the door slightly ajar. Rigo stood by the bench, arms crossed over his chest as he waited for her. When she entered, he immediately pushed off the wall and closed the distance between them, pressing a quick but deep kiss to her lips before taking the bag from her hands.

“Took you long enough,” he teased, setting the bag down on the metal bench. His hands found her waist instantly, pulling her against him. “I’ve been starving”

He backed her up against the metal cubbie that had his turnout gear. The kiss deepened instantly from sweet to devouring. His hands slid down to grip her hips, anchoring her there as his tongue swept against hers. It was reckless - it was his work place, surrounded by people and frankly, he didn't give a damn. “Estás tan bueno” Rigo murmured against her mouth, kissing a trail along her jaw.

Her head tipped back automatically, surrendering to the attention. It was terrifying how addicted she’d become to him - how easily he unraveled her. He swallowed her soft whimper, grinding gently against her, reminding her exactly what he did to her in that storage closet weeks ago.

His teeth grazed the sensitive spot just below her ear, sending a violent shiver down her spine. Her hands betrayed her by tangling in his hair to hold him closer instead of pushing him away.

“¿Sabes cuántas ganas tengo de follarte duro ahora mismo?” he growled against her skin, one hand sliding down to squeeze her ass.

Y/n pulled away to catch her breath. Her forehead pressed against his as a casual smirk formed across her lips. “I have no idea what you're saying” she chuckled softly.

He laughed low in his throat, pressing his hips forward to let her feel exactly what she did to him. “I said...” he dropped his voice to a rough whisper against her lips. “I want to fuck you so hard right now”

He pulled back just enough to smirk down at her, dark eyes dancing with mischief. “Maybe I should teach you some spanish, cariña”

“maybe you should,” she grins, her fingers brushing against the scruff on his jaw. “You sound pretty sexy when you do that”

His smirk turned into a full-blown grin, showing off his white teeth. He leaned in, capturing her mouth in a searing kiss that stole her breath as his hand squeezed her ass.

Just then their moment was cut off suddenly. “Seriously?” Jack’s voice cut through the room like a slammed door.

They broke apart like teenagers caught by a parent, Rigo stepping back instantly but not releasing her waist. Jack stood in the doorway, arms crossed, jaw tight. His eyes bounced between them - Rigo's rumpled shirt, Y/n's swollen lips, their flushed faces. In two large steps, Jack shoved Rigo away from his sister, making him stumble back. “I told you to stay away from her”

Rigo regained his footing, his jaw tightening as he stepped right back into Jack’s personal space. The playful demeanor vanished instantly, replaced by that terrifyingly calm intensity he usually reserved for a fire. “Back the hell up, Gibson”

“Oh, I get it,” Jack stepped between them again. “I fucked your wife, so now you're going after my sister... I get it”

Rigo's face turned red with anger, his hands balling into fists at his sides. He was taller than Jack, broader - a dangerous combination when he was pissed. “Fuck you, Gibson” he snarled, not backing down an inch. “If you think I'm sleeping with her as some kinda revenge you're fucking mistaken”

“both of you need to calm down” y/n said, trying to step in but both ignored her.

“You know what?” Jack pushed Rigo hard in the chest, making him stumble back. “You probably are. You're probably using her just to get back at me” He was shouting now, face red with anger.

Rigo's expression darkened dangerously. “She’s not some damn pawn in this game between us, asshole. I actually give a fuck about her”

“I said stop” she said. Her voice was harsher this time, tugging Jack away.

Jack and Rigo both froze, looking at her. For a second, it looked like Jack was going to say something else, but one look at his sister's face made him stop. He let out a harsh laugh instead. “You're kidding me, right? You're actually falling for this guy? After everything?”

The question hung in the air like smoke.

“yes” she said - no hesitation.

Jack stared at her like she'd grown two heads. Rigo stood completely still behind him, barely breathing as he waited for her brother's reaction. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Finally, Jack shook his head in disbelief. “You're dating?”

“for almost a month now” Rigo answered for her, stepping forward slightly. His voice was steady, calm - a stark contrast to the heated argument moments ago. He looked at Jack with a challenging gaze, daring him to say something else.

Jack's jaw clenched. He glanced between them - the way Rigo positioned himself closer to y/n, the possessive tilt of his head. The pieces were all there: Rigo's late nights at their house, how attentive he'd been at the station, the way his sister's eyes softened whenever the latino's name came up.

A bitter laugh escaped him. “A fucking month” he shot Rigo one last glare before walking past them.

Jack slammed the gear room door hard behind him, making the metal walls vibrate and y/n flinch. Silence instantly settled over the room. Rigo dropped his head with a heavy exhale, running a hand through his hair. Y/n immediately stepped into him, pressing her forehead against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her without hesitation, burying his face in her neck.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured against her skin, his breath warm on her neck. His arms tightened around her, anchoring her to him as the adrenaline from the fight started to fade into a dull ache. “I didn’t want you dragged into the middle of our shit”

“It's okay” she murmured.

He pressed a lingering kiss to her temple, his hand rubbing soothingly up and down her spine. He pulled back slightly to look down at her, his dark eyes searching hers. “You sure about this?”

Y/n looked him in the eyes and without hesitation said. “I still want to be with you”

Rigo’s expression melted instantly. The arrogant firefighter, the man who fought Jack without hesitation, disappeared completely. He pulled her into a devastatingly soft kiss, cradling her face in both hands like she was something fragile. This was a man completely gone for a woman he wasn't supposed to fall for.

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The bay doors rumbled shut behind Engine 19. It had been a brutal call - a warehouse fire with hours in heavy gear. Everyone was exhausted, sweaty, and running on fumes. To add to it the station was unusually quiet as everyone fell into the familiar rhythm of cleaning equipment and hanging turnout gear. Normally there'd be jokes - today there wasn't.

Jack and Rigo hadn't said more than the bare minimum to each other all shift - just enough to do their jobs without endangering themselves or the people around him. Of course everyone noticed, but no one commented. The tension between them was palpable, carrying the weight of a disastrous argument and an unresolved conflict. Rigo slammed his locker shut harder than he meant to. Across the room, Jack was stripping off his turnout coat.

The silence between them had become suffocating. Rigo had tried to stay out of it, he really had. He understood Jack was angry. Hell, he was angry, but he couldn't use the cheating wife card anymore - not when y/n made him happy enough to forget his anger.

For a week Rigo had been watching y/n stay at his place every night with red eyes because her own brother refused to speak to her. Was he just supposed to sit back and let it happen? it was hard to ignore.

Rigo finally broke the silence. “You gonna keep punishing her”

Jack froze mid-motion, dropping his helmet onto the bench. The rest of the Dean and Travis instantly pretended to be incredibly busy with their gear while Vic slowly backed out of the room, deciding staying in her turnout pants a little longer wouldn't be so bad.

Jack turned slowly, his jaw tight and eyes dangerous, but not gutful enough to look Rigo in the eyes. “I am not punishing anyone”

“Bullshit,” Rigo slammed his locker shut. “She hasn’t slept properly in a week because her brother won’t fucking look at her” The words hung in the air like smoke.

Jack continued putting away his gear. “it's none of your business”

“The hell it isn’t,” Rigo snapped, stepping around the bench to block Jack’s path. The exhaustion of the last twenty-four hours was fraying everyone's temper, but Rigo had been holding this back for a week. “I’m the one holding her while she cries at night because her own brother is icing her out”

Jack shoved past him, walking out of the locker room. “That's between me and her”

“fuck that,” Rigo shouted after him, causing the rest of the locker room to freeze completely. Jack stopped dead in the hallway, his back muscles going rigid under his tight t-shirt. He slowly turned around, his eyes lethal. “Because every night she goes home wondering what she did wrong”

Jack scoffed. “She knew what she was doing”

“She was falling for a man,” Rigo shot back, voice dropping lower, more dangerous. “Something you apparently forgot how to do when you were too busy sticking your dick in my wife” The words landed like a physical blow, and the rest of the crew collectively held their breath. Rigo never brought it up. Never. But he was done playing nice - he didn't get to pretend he's the only one who's ever been hurt.

Jack's face went from pale to a deep, ugly red in seconds. For a moment he looked like he was about to snap something - or someone. His hands were clenched at his sides. Then his jaw shifted. “Don't”

“Don’t what?” Rigo took a step forward, his voice low and controlled. “Don’t remind you that you fucked my wife? Or don’t remind you that your sister is fucking me”

Jack lunged, his fist cut through the air. Rigo reacted on instinct and he shifted just enough for the punch to miss. He grabbed Jack's shoulder, and redirected his momentum. Jack stumbled against the wall with a loud thud. Before he could recover, Rigo planted his forearm across Jack's upper chest and shoulder, pinning him without throwing a punch.

Jack strained against him. “Get off me”

“I could've hit you,” Rigo growled, not backing down as Jack glared at him. Rigo's chest heaved from exhaustion and rage, forearm pressing harder against Jack's shoulder. “but I didn't”

His forearm eased slightly, enough that it was clear he wasn't trying to hurt Jack - only stop the fight before it got worse. Jack's fists opened at his sides, something breaking in his expression. Not defeat - something uglier as he stopped struggling. “The only reason I'm not swinging back,” Rigo said quietly, “is because you're y/n's brother, so think about that before you come at me again”

For a long moment, neither of them moved. Then Bishop's voice cut through the bay. “That's enough”

The captain stepped between them and Rigo immediately lowered his arm and took two steps back. Jack stayed where he was, still glaring. Bishop looked from one firefighter to the other. “My office. Now”

Rigo nodded once, jaw tight. Jack shoved off the wall and followed, neither man looking at the other. The station stayed frozen until they both disappeared behind Bishop's office door. She shut the office door with a firm click. The station suddenly felt eerily quiet. Jack and Rigo sat stiffly in the chairs in front of Maya Bishop's desk. Rigo's jaw was clenched tight, arms folded across his chest as he listened to Jack's uneven breathing. Rigo didn't need to look at him to know that there was a hard ass expression on Jack's face.

Bishop looked between them. “One of you start talking”

Jack stayed silent, staring stubbornly at the wall beside Bishop’s head. Rigo glanced at him, then shifted his gaze to the Captain. Neither firefighter volunteered. Bishop’s eyes sharpened, darting from Jack to Rigo. “I need to know that you two can work together. I have discretion here. This doesn't have to go to Sullivan or Dixon”

The implication hung heavy in the air - their personal feud threatening their careers. Rigo understood. If Bishop went to Sullivan, they'd both be transferred. Maybe even suspended. He leaned back in his chair, jaw tight. Jack remained stubbornly silent, staring at the wall like it held the secrets to his infuriated existence.

Bishop sighed, crossing her arms as she leaned against the desk. “I don't care who started it. I care that two firefighters almost turned my station into a fight club,” Neither answered. “You two are supposed to trust each other inside a burning building”

The words struck a nerve - trust was everything in this job. Rigo swallowed hard, thinking about all the times he'd had Jack's back on calls, and Jack had had his. The irony was sickening. He could still feel Jack's fist missing him, the heat of his rage. Jack remained stubbornly silent, staring at the wall.

Bishop's expression hardened. “I need an answer. Can you two work together or not?” She looked between them, her gaze sharp and unyielding. Rigo felt the weight of her question, knowing that a wrong answer could mean the end of their careers at this station.

Rigo looked at her, then glanced at the silent jack. He knew the answer for himself - pride be damned, he couldn't afford to lose his job. He took a deep breath. “Yes, ma'am” He said gruffly.

“Yes,” Jack said, practically forcing himself to do so.

Bishop's expression didn't soften, but she nodded slowly. “Good. Because I'm not running this station like a damn daycare. You two sort your shit out, and you sort it out now,” She pointed at both of them and they nodded stiffly. “dismissed”

They both rose from the chairs in unison, neither looking at the other. Jack shoved past Rigo to get to the door first. Rigo clenched his fists but forced himself to walk out calmly. The moment they cleared Bishop's office, the crew pretended like nothing happened. But Rigo could feel every eye on them.

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The tones dropped through Station 19, cutting through the lingering tension that had settled over the house during the past week. 'Station 19, respond to reports of an aircraft explosion near Harbor Avenue. Multiple callers reporting fire and possible fuel leak'

Every firefighter moved at once. Turnout pants, suspenders, coats, air packs, helmets. The practiced routine took over, even for two men who still hadn't truly settled their differences. Jack climbed into the passenger side of the engine as Vic got behind the wheel and Rigo climbed into the back without looking at him.

No one spoke until the rig pulled out of the bay, sirens echoing through the Seattle streets.

Vic looked between the two of them. “You two better have your mess handled,” Neither answered.

She continued. “I'm serious - not gonna die today because you can't keep it in your turnouts”

They'd been warned by Bishop - if they messed up on calls, it was on them. An aircraft explosion meant massive scale, fuel leaks, potential casualties. Jack attempted damage control. “We're good - brothers. Right, Vasquez?”

Rigo kept his face neutral. “The city pays me. They say ride with you, I ride”

Rigo had no intention of abandoning a member of his team no matter how angry he was because that's what firefighters did. That's the oath he'd taken and whether Jack believed it or not, Rigo knew exactly what it would do to y/n if anything happened to her brother. She'd never forgive herself - and he'd never forgive himself if he didn't do everything he could.

The rig bounced through streets, sirens wailing. They approached the harbor - smoke rising from a downed aircraft near Harbor Avenue. The scene was chaos: fuel burning, people running, emergency services everywhere.

Bishop climbed out first, taking in the scene. “we have got to deal with this gasoline leak!” she ordered. “Set up a containment boom! Keep that gas out of the street!”

Everyone immediately split into assignments. Andy looked around. “Dispatch said aircraft explosion”

Bishop didn't look up. “Search and Rescue will handle the aircraft. We handle the pump”

Andy studied the wreckage uneasily. The scene had turned into a second disaster zone - two trucks fully engulfed, flame licking up metal sides, propane tanks popping like gunfire and black smoke twisted into the sky. “I don't think we know what we're dealing with”

Before anyone could respond a shower of sparks landed near the spreading fuel. Whoomph. Several small fires erupted at once, but quickly contained. The small explosions kept everyone on edge - each one a reminder that this wasn't a standard fire. This was volatile, unpredictable, and getting worse by the second.

Rigo and Jack were already circling the perimeter with extinguishers, moving fast and containing small fires that had broken out from scattered ignition points. Him and Jack worked in sync. They didn’t have to speak to understand each other or work like they've been wired to do - that made the tension worse. Jack jerked his head toward a burning pile of flames near a rolled car. “Contain that side!”

“I’m not blind, Gibson” Rigo clapped back as the extinguisher hissed as he sprayed foam onto the flames licking up the car's side.

“Then act like it” That snapped the silence - even the fire died at their feet with quite hiss.

Rigo straightened up, foam still dripping. He turned towards Jack. “You want to do this now?”

Jack didn’t hesitate. “We already did it at the station”

Rigo scoffed, turning back to the scene. The car was still burning - the foam was holding but not enough. “This isn't about her right now,” Rigo said sharply.

Jack snapped, grabbing his shoulder and forcing him to be face to face. “everything is about her right now”

The fire crackled wildly around them, but the two men were locked in a standoff that had absolutely nothing to do with flames. Rigo slapped Jack's hand off his shoulder immediately, aggression matching aggression.

“Keep your voice down,” Rigo warned, his voice dangerously low as he stared at the man that was tethered to him only by one woman. “We are on a working scene. Drop it”

Across the street, Andy crouched near debris scattered near the food trucks. Something metallic and twisted - too clean-edged for wreckage. She frowned.

Elaine, one of the injured civilians sitting near triage, looked over. “What is that?”

“I don’t know,” Andy turned it in her hand. It wasn’t burned like the rest of the wreckage and it definitely wasn't from a truck. Or from a building - not even close. “Is there a tech campus nearby?” Andy asked sharply.

Elaine nodded weakly. “Yeah. Couple blocks. Some… aerospace startup people. They’re always talking about Mars stuff”

Andy froze. “…Mars?”

Elaine nodded again. “Yeah. Billionaire project. Private launch testing. Something like that”

Andy’s blood ran cold. She lifted her radio again. “This isn’t from a plane,” Still nothing. “Jack, Vasquez, respond!”

Static.

The radio was just useless background noise to Rigo and Jack as their fight picked up faster than any fire around them. “Maybe stop making it about you” Rigo shot back.

Jack’s jaw ticked. “You don’t get to talk to me about her like you know her better than I do”

“maybe, but I get to learn about her everyday,” Rigo laughed bitterly, the sound harsh against the backdrop of the extinguisher hissing over open flames. “and like it or not were together”

Andy's voice cracked through the radio again. “Gibson, Vasquez!”

Jack stepped closer, voice rising.

“She’s my sister”

“And she’s my girlfriend!” Rigo snapped back, then immediately steadied his tone. “And right now she’s the one getting hurt the most by all of this”

Jack’s jaw flexed hard and before he could respond Andy’s voice crackled over the radio again, frantic.“Jack. Rigo. I need you both to respond. Now”

“we're fine, Herrera,” Jack finally responded. “we don't need a babysitter”

Jack had heard the urgency in Andy's voice, and Rigo was already moving before she could've corrected him. His jaw clenched at the delay.

Andy moved through the scene quickly, scanning debris, when she saw it. Another fragment -larger this time. Not metal, but aircraft-grade aluminum. She quickly rushed towards Rigo and Jack's direction. “Jack, it's not an airplane. It's a rocket! We need Hazmat”

Rigo saw it first. A pressurized leak venting from a ruptured cylindrical tank - gas hissing out in an unstable plume, igniting intermittently where it met open flame. His instincts took over and he grabbed an extinguisher and moved in.

Jack saw him break off instantly. “Rigo stop- !”

The explosion was not cinematic. It was violent, immediate, and consuming. A shockwave tore across the concrete. Rigo was thrown backward like he weighed nothing, slamming onto his back hard enough to crack the pavement sound in the air. Fire rolled outward and then snapped back into control lines. The world briefly became silent and hot.

Jack was already moving. “Rigo!”

He dropped to his knees immediately. Rigo was conscious - barely. Blood was already pooling fast, dark and too much, soaking into his turnout gear. A deep abdominal injury - too deep. Jack’s hands went to pressure instantly. “Just breathe, okay?”

Jack put pressure on the injury the best way he could. He quickly whipped his head towards the others. “Warren! Get Warren!”

Rigo's breaths came fast and shallow. He felt the pressure on his abdomen, saw Jack's face above him - terrified, white. Not angry anymore. Nothing between them mattered now.

“God, getting the knife-Mobil?” Rigo coughed, blood flecking his lips. “It's that bad, huh?”

“You're alright, you're gonna be okay. Just -” Blood was already pooling fast, dark and too much, soaking into his turnout gear. “just don't move”

“Don't fucking lie to me,” Rigo gasped weakly, and he was. His breaths were getting harder and harder to take, the pain spreading out through his torso like a wildfire. His hands gripped his stomach involuntarily, pressing against the injury like he could keep it inside. “How bad?”

Jack's breath hitched. His jaw ticked as his eyes flicked back to Rigo's. “it's bad”

Rigo's head fell back against the concrete, a low groan escaping him. His vision was tunneling at the edges, the scene around him dimming into a blur of smoke and flashing lights.

He reached up, fumbled weakly for Jack's arm. “I haven't told her I love her,” his voice cracked, fading. “Tell her -”

“You're gonna be fine,” Jack cut him off firmly. “And your gonna tell her yourself”

Rigo's lips moved, forming words that barely had sound. “I'll never apologize for loving her - not to you or anyone”