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The fire station buzzed with warm, cheerful energy, a haven of holiday spirit against the chilly December night. A tall Christmas tree dominated one corner of the communal living area, its twinkling lights reflecting off the polished brass fire pole. Ornaments, many handmade by the firefighters’ families over the years, adorned the branches—tiny fire trucks, helmets, and even a Dalmatian or two nestled among the tinsel.
A garland wrapped with red and white ribbons stretched across the room, its ends anchored to the corners of the mantel above the stone fireplace. Stockings hung there, each embroidered with a name—some belonged to the firefighters on shift, while others were for the crew's children who would pop in for a surprise visit during the holiday.
The scent of pine mingled with the aroma of freshly baked cookies and spiced cider, courtesy of the on-shift cook, wearing a Santa hat, slightly askew. Laughter echoed as two firefighters competed in an intense game of checkers on the coffee table while others lounged on the oversized leather couches, sipping cocoa from mismatched mugs.
Someone had set up a stereo playing Christmas classics in the bay area, where the fire engines gleamed under string lights draped along the ceiling beams. The reflective stripes on the gear hanging from hooks shimmered faintly with the multicolored glow, and a wreath adorned with miniature toy fire hydrants hung proudly on the grill of the main engine.
Nearby, a group of rookies were working on a snowman just outside the bay doors. Their breath visible in the cold air as they debated whether the snowman needed a firefighter’s helmet or a scarf.
The mood was light, but the air held a quiet undertone of readiness. A half-decorated gingerbread house sat on the dining table, waiting for a break between calls. A pager buzzed faintly in the background, reminding everyone that Christmas cheer here always balanced on the edge of duty.
Yelena stood apart from the rest, in her navy blues, inspecting her gear for the third time that day. She meticulously checked every harness and strap, tugging and examining for tears or frays. She ignored the soft laughter from her squad, having denied their invitation to spread peanut butter and seeds onto pinecones. ‘It was for the birds,’ they said. What birds? Their station was in the heart of New York City. The only birds they’d be feeding are the pigeons.
“Belova!”
Schooling her features, Yelena turned toward their captain, the corner of her lips tugging downward as a new face followed him—great, another rookie. “Wilson,” she greeted.
He chuckled. “One of these days, I’ll need to ensure you say my title upon acknowledging me.”
She couldn’t help the grin spreading over her features. “That would suggest you have my respect.”
Sam playfully shook his finger at her. “One of these days, Belova. Anyway,” he clapped the woman’s shoulder beside him, an awkward gesture as she was the same height as him. “This is Kate Bishop, our newest recruit, fresh out of the academy and your new partner.”
“What?” Yelena asked, aggrieved, disdainfully eyeing the hand Kate offered.
“Hi!” the taller woman chirped brightly, smiling wide. “I’m Kate Bishop, as Captain Wilson said. I’m so excited to be here. I’ve wanted to be on precinct 52 ever since you guys put out a fire at my school fifteen years ago.” She effortlessly lowered her hand when Yelena didn’t shake it, gazing around the bay area. “Wow, you guys went all out for the holidays. So cool.”
She was pretty, Yelena would admit, with long, flowing dark hair and a mischievous glint in her startling blue eyes. She wore a holiday sweater with a golden retriever wearing antlers. She was tall, with long limbs. Yelena could see how that would make her good at heavy lifting and excel in situations that required the more dexterous individual, but Kate Bishop had an incredibly green quality to her. She was too eager, too willing to please, too inexperienced. If Yelena had to hazard a guess, Kate had never been in a real danger scenario. A textbook, training module, and controlled fire at the academy could only teach a person so much. Yelena would be willing to bet money that Kate had never experienced the choking blaze of an untamed fire nor the constant battle of panic as she waded through the flames, feeling as if her skin was peeling off her body, forcing herself to stay calm.
“Sam,” Yelena tried, horrified to hear a slight pleading note in her voice. “Can I talk to you?” She led them away from Kate, whose head was tilted back, admiring the lights. “I have worked here for ten years,” she started heatedly. “I have done my job well. Have I not?”
Sam nodded, smirking. “Very well.”
“I have gotten many awards for my service from junior firefighter onward.”
“I know.”
“I have improved the quality of search and rescue.”
“You have.”
Yelena puffed up her cheeks, exhaling heavily. “So why are you punishing me?”
Sam cackled heartily, placing a comforting hand on Yelena’s shoulder, his eyes sparkling intensely. “Yelena, you have so much experience; it’s a wonder you keep turning down the lieutenant position.” He sighed. “You know the ins and outs of being a firefighter much better than anyone else here, and Kate could really benefit from that, and so could you.”
She scoffed.
“I’m serious. Look, Kate was top of her class, the girl’s smart, and,” he paused, pointedly looking her up and down, “you’ve become a bit of a lone wolf.”
“I’m fine,” she insisted. “I don’t need to babysit some newbie when lives are at stake.”
He pulled away, shrugging. It was clear Yelena wasn’t going to change his mind. “Then don’t. Let her make the mistakes she needs to and have her learn from them. Maybe you could learn something, too.”
Scowling, Yelena followed her Captain back toward Kate Bishop, who’d moved further into the bay, staring at one of the large firetrucks.
“Alright, Kate,” Sam clapped his hands. “Welcome to station 52. The search and rescue squad is happy to have you. Yelena will set you up with a new gear set and teach you the ropes. If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Thank you, Captain,” she saluted him.
Yelena wanted to barf.
Sam grinned, winking at Yelena. “I like this one.”
Pivoting on her heel, Yelena strode to their lockers, hearing the rushed pitter-patter of Kate’s feet as she hurried to keep up.
“So,” Kate started, breathless. “You’re Belova? I’m assuming that’s your last name. It’s rather funny; usually, I learn people’s first names before I learn their last names.”
Sighing heavily, Yelena opened an empty locker and showcased it to Kate. “It’s Yelena.”
“That’s a nice name,” she said sweetly. “Is it Russian?”
“Da,” Yelena groused, her stomach souring as Kate’s smile dimmed slightly. She cleared her throat. “This will be your locker.” She flipped it closed to show Kate the number in front.
“Oh, 007, like James Bond.”
Humming, Yelena led them into the room the squad affectionately referred to as The Armory. Spare suits were hung on several hooks. Axes were displayed behind thick cases of class, helmets, gloves, tanks, anything a firefighter could need.
“Let’s get you suited up and see how it fits,” said Yelena, rubbing a thumb over the rough material of a pair of bunker pants.
“Sure thing!” Kate certainly wasn’t shy, flipping her sweater over her head in one smooth motion and immediately dropping her pants.
Yelena was only saved from stumbling into the caged dividers by the fact that Kate left her tank top on, but it was barely long enough to hide her lavender panties. She wordlessly handed Kate the pants, her eyes flicking between the lean muscle of Kate’s arms and the lace trim of her underwear, quickly obstructed by the baggy pants. Yelena only had a moment to begrudgingly admire her newest partner in the loose pants and tight tank top before the rest of the protective gear was piled onto her. Soon, Kate stood dressed entirely in her bunker pants and coat, boots, Nomex hood, helmet, gloves, and air tank.
“I kind of feel like a Ghostbuster,” said Kate, walking in a circle after Yelena instructed her to. Kate accepted the extra tools handed to her, knowledgeably placing them on her person. The heavy-duty flashlight, rope and carabiner, axe, halogen tool, radio, and thermal camera added at least fifty pounds to the outfit. Still, Kate continued walking as if Yelena had dumped a bag of feathers on her.
“Altogether, you are walking around with 21,000 dollars of gear on your body, all meant to protect you and assist you in a burning building.”
That made Kate stop. “Geez, that’s, like, almost half of my yearly salary.”
“Yep.”
Kate’s next thought was interrupted by a blaring alarm, the station bell ringing frantically, calling all firefighters for aid.
Yelena’s heart raced, adrenaline punching through her in a well-anticipated manner. “Come on,” she instructed, moving quickly to her locker. Kate followed, a little slower due to the excess weight of her gear, but she didn’t fall behind. Yelena threw her pants and coat on in record time, strapping her chest harnesses and clipping her helmet to her head. “Truck number two,” she instructed Kate, who hurriedly clunked to the engine, its lights flashing while Yelena pulled on her boots.
The fire station erupted into chaos around her, the shrill tones of the alarm cutting through the holiday music. Conversations halted mid-laugh, and mugs clattered as they were hastily set on tables. The dispatcher’s voice crackled over the intercom, sharp and urgent: “Structure fire, business, multiple occupants reported inside. All units respond.”
As Yelena rushed into the bay, chairs scraped against the floor as her fellow firefighters bolted from their relaxed postures. Her boots thudded heavily against the concrete, sprinting toward the bay. Yelena saw her team abandon their holiday sweaters and Satana hats in favor of bunker gear. Gloves, jackets, and helmets were pulled on with practiced speed, movements precise but charged with adrenaline.
She climbed into the truck she watched Kate disappear into. The fire engines roared to life, their red and white lights strobing against the dim walls of the bay. The garlands and string lights strung above seemed to flash along with the urgency. Doors groaned open, letting in a blast of icy air that bit at Yelena’s face before she could shut the truck door.
The once-cozy station transformed into a scene of rapid-fire coordination. Radios crackled with clipped voices relaying vital information—address, hydrant locations, and the possibility of trapped employees. Someone yelled, "Let’s move!" as the first engine pulled out, its siren wailing, shattering the quiet of the winter night.
Yelena glanced out the window, ensuring she or Kate hadn’t forgotten anything. Steam rose from the coffee mugs left behind on the table, their warmth forgotten in the rush to save lives. The smell of pine and cinnamon still hung in the air, but the scent of diesel and cold metal quickly overtook it.
As the last truck rolled out, its ladder visible through the swirling snow, the fire station was left eerily still, save for the blinking Christmas tree. The echoes of frantic footsteps faded, replaced by the faint hum of the dispatcher's voice relaying updates into the void.
“Peter, Cassie, what’s the situation?” Yelena asked the EMR’s.
Cassie answered without looking up, both rechecking their medical bags. “I’m told it’s a post office in Midtown Manhattan. There are reports of people trapped inside, but it’s unclear how many. Sonya and Ana will be on the roof with ventilation duty. They got into truck one.”
“Billy and Eli should be on hose duty.” Peter looked up. “They’re also in truck one—oh, hi,” he greeted, slightly startled to see a new face.
“Hi!”
“Kate Bishop, meet Peter and Cassie. Peter and Cassie, meet Kate Bishop,” introduced Yelena, shifting in her seat to double-check Kate’s gear.
“So you guys are emergency medical responders,” Kate said conversationally, the heat of the moment unaffecting her. “Neat.” She instinctively leaned back when Yelena reached over to check on a buckle. It was slightly loose, so she tightened it without any complaint from her new partner. “Ventilation is when they remove chunks of the roof to help remove the heat, right? Has someone inspected the quality of the structure? Will it hold up?”
“Sonya and Ana will quickly asses the situation when they get there,” Yelena said, her fingers lingering against the mask hanging loosely to the side of Kate's face. She zeroed in on her pulse, pounding frantically against her throat. “You need to focus on the possible conflicts when we arrive on the scene,” Yelena drew her attention. “What are they?”
Kate swallowed. “Um, well, we don’t know how many civilians are in there, where they are, how long they have left before they lose consciousness due to oxygen loss and smoke intake, how we’re going to get them out.”
“Good,” Yelena cooed, watching Kate’s pulse slow slightly. “And the danger with smoke inhalation?”
Taking a deep breath, Kate recited what she had probably read in a textbook many times. “It takes about thirty seconds of smoke inhalation for someone to pass out, especially if the smoke is thick. It kills in only a few minutes and obscures your vision, causing disorientation and preventing a safe escape.”
“That’s right,” Yelena ignored the strange looks Peter and Cassie were giving her. She was typically never this nice, even to seasoned firefighters. “Follow my lead as we enter the building, and we should be fine.”
Kate nodded, for once falling silent.
Their trucks careened through the streets, horn blaring, instructing the other drivers to pull over and let them through.
They arrived in the typical ten minutes or less.
The fire engine screeched to a halt, its massive tires kicking up a spray of slush and ice onto the snowbanks lining the street. The night sky glowed an eerie orange as flames licked hungrily at the sides of the three-story building, their heat palpable even from the truck. Smoke billowed in thick, black plumes, curling into the frigid air and blotting out the stars.
The siren's wail faded as Yelena jumped into action, and Kate bravely followed her with surprisingly fluid movements despite the chaos unfolding before them. Sam Wilson leapt down from the cab, barking orders into his radio. “Ladder to the roof! Engine, hit the hydrant! Squad, we’ve got reports of people trapped on the second floor!”
Hoses were uncoiled and snapped to hydrants in seconds, the connections sealing with satisfying clicks. Water burst through the lines, the pressure causing the heavy hoses to writhe like a live snake as Billy and Eli dragged them toward the roaring inferno.
The glow of their headlamps pierced the smoke, cutting through the shadows as they assessed the structure. Shattered glass glittered on the frozen pavement, reflecting the fire trucks' alternating red and white strobe lights. The distant crackle of wood giving way under the intense heat mingled with the screams of panicked employees who had made it out and passing pedestrians who stopped to watch the horror unfold.
The streets were crowded around them, held back by the police. Some of the post office workers, covered in soot, were screaming and crying for their friends to be saved. Cassie and Peter had hit the ground running, already bent over several people lying on stretchers, performing CPR.
“Kate!” Yelena yelled, forcing her partner's wide eyes onto her. “Mask on, we’re heading in.”
She nodded, her breath instantly fogging the face covering.
Yelena moved closer to the structure. She couldn’t lose focus to check if Kate had followed her. A part of her hoped the rookie stayed behind, frozen in fear, realizing this life wasn’t for her, but another part hoped Kate followed. She raised an axe and slammed it into the entrance door, the splintering sound sharp and violent. The heat was intense, steaming the air around them. She almost felt like a french fry in a deep frier.
Glancing back, she saw Kate following close behind. “Come on!” They disappeared into the building, their silhouettes swallowed by the smoke as they vanished into the doorway.
On the ladder truck, the aerial arm extended skyward, its metal groaning under the weight of ice forming rapidly in the freezing temperatures. The nozzle atop the ladder roared to life, spraying a powerful arc of water onto the roof, where flames erupted through shingles like volcanic bursts.
The scene was a whirlwind of motion and noise—radios crackling, engines rumbling, and the deafening hiss of water meeting fire. Yet amidst the chaos, every firefighter moved with precision, their mission clear: to battle the blaze and bring everyone home.
It was insensibly loud inside the burning building; the crackling growl of the flames and creaking structure joints covered up any faint cries and exclamations. Yelena continued with practiced fluidity, turning on her motion-censored breathing apparatus—it beeped at her if she stayed still too long. Her eyes roved over the scene, taking in every detail.
The second floor, they needed to get to the second floor.
Behind the rows of counters and package containers for sale was a small stairwell leading up. Nudging Kate, Yelena pointed to it, leading them to the base, testing its strength one step at a time.
Once they reached the second floor, Yelena instructed them through their radio system, “Go to the right. Look for anyone in need of help.”
Kate gave her a firm nod and took off, vanishing around a corner.
Yelena fought the urge to follow her and ensure she followed her steps correctly. Instead, she ignored the sweat gathering under her gear and walked carefully to the left, peering through the gradually rising smoke and panting harshly into her mask.
The heat of the blazing fire around her was an all-consuming force, a suffocating wave that pressed against her with relentless intensity. Yelena didn’t only feel it on her skin—it surrounded her, invaded her, and radiated with a ferocity that made the air seem alive. At close range, the heat was a physical barrier, almost tangible, like walking into an oven that’s been left open. Even through her breathing apparatus, it scorched her lungs with every breath, each inhalation sharp and shallow as the superheated air threatened to sear her from the inside out. Yelena’s skin tingled and taughtened beneath her protective layers as if the fire’s energy was trying to reach through. Her sweat formed instantly, beading and evaporating quickly, leaving a sticky, salty residue that added to the discomfort.
She could feel the fire’s hunger, the air shimmering with distortion, bending light as if the heat was reshaping reality. Materials buckled and melted, the surfaces of the sorting counters bubbled and warped in grotesque ways, while the wood shelves popped and cracked, sending sparks careening like tiny fireworks. Hundreds of envelopes and packages curled as they disintegrated before her very eyes.
Even at a distance, Yelena was sure the heat reached out, relentless and predatory, a warning of the fire’s insatiable appetite. It probably clung to clothes and skin at this very moment, a reminder that fire demands respect and absolute power.
Something moved in her peripherals.
There.
Someone was crawling out from under a desk.
Yelena hurried over, crouching low under the smoke. She grasped the man’s arms, shaking him slightly out of his daze.
Behind her, glass shattered, and she knew Sonya and Ana had made it to the window, allowing for an easier escape.
“Come on,” she grunted, hefting the man over her shoulders and carrying him to the window. She leaned out, handing him over to the ventilation team, only sparing a glance as the crew waiting below rushed forward, preparing for a rapid handoff. She could make out Billy and Eli moving the hose side to side, in synch, before she disappeared back into the flames.
As she hurried back in, Kate passed her, helping a coughing woman to the ladder beyond the window, and then she lost sight of her again.
It felt like three hours had passed, but in reality, it could only have been three minutes. Combined, she and Kate had helped ten people out of the fire’s clutches, but Yelena knew they needed to leave. The fire grew more unstable, whipping and fanning in different directions as the wind from the broken window fueled it.
“Kate!” she called through the radio but received no answer, only listening to the crackling static. Panic rose within her, squeezing her chest. “Kate!” she tried again, standing amongst the orange blaze.
Somewhere in the distance, Kate’s SCBA tank blared loudly.
Heart pounding, Yelena followed the sound, fear icing the sizzling heat in her veins, terrified of what she may find.
She needn’t have worried.
Kate was on her own two feet but bent at the waist, struggling with something in front of her. As Yelena approached, that something turned out to be an older gentleman clutching a small sack to his chest. He was mouthing repeatedly, his words lost to the raging inferno around them, but Yelena had years of practice reading distressed words pouring from chapped lips.
I can’t leave them!
“Sir!” Yelena faintly heard her partner scream over the nose. “You need to leave them behind. We need to get out of here.” Kate tried to reach for the bag, but the man twisted out of the way, and Kate pulled back.
“Kate!” Yelena shoved past her partner, wrenching the sack from his arms. “Get him out of here!” She threw the bag at their feet, helping Kate lift the man over her shoulders. It was difficult; he kept kicking and wailing, reaching for the bag. Kate couldn’t straighten to her full height under his movements, and she walked laboriously to the window.
Sonya and Ana snatched the man from Kate’s shoulders, manhandling him out of the building.
“Okay, Kate, climb out the window,” Yelena panted. She couldn’t even feel the icy air blowing through the opening. “I’ll follow.”
However, Yelena’s newest partner stepped back instead of listening to her. “You go first; I’ll be right back. I need to get something,” and she took off.
Yelena’s stomach plummeted to the ash-covered floor below. “Hey!” she screamed, but her voice didn’t travel far, the smoke engulfing the taller woman instantly. Her alarm heightened the longer Kate stayed out of view, and, brain foggy, she went after her, but a firm hand on her elbow held her back.
“Yelena!” Sonya called. “The building isn’t going to remain structurally safe for much longer. You need to get out!”
She mouthed wordlessly, her feet rooted to the spot.
Something moved ahead of her.
The beams supporting the ceiling creaked and croaked, rattling in a horrific sound Yelena had heard many times before.
Vibrations thrummed under the soles of her boots, another sure sign.
“Kate!” she tried again, her breathing coming in short gasps.
“Yelena! Come on!”
But she couldn’t move; even knowing her life was in imminent danger, she couldn’t leave. How could she possibly lose her partner on day one? Yelena blinked, and Kate stood before her, her arms wrapped around that stupid sack the man couldn’t leave behind. Without thinking, Yelena gripped Kate’s shoulder while Sonya and Ana heaved her backward out the window.
The building gave a mighty groan, and the second floor fell to the one below just as Kate’s feet left the ground.
Yelena’s tank caught the rail of the ladder, and with Kate’s weight firmly on top of her, they slid down toward the top of the fire engine, colliding with the vehicle with a metallic thunk. She gasped for air, their overheated bodies steaming in the frigid air. Yelena slowly became aware of Kate’s arms wrapped securely around her, holding her close, blocking her body from the whistling wind. The night flashed red and white as the hectic events flashed in Yelena’s mind, and she knocked Kate’s arms away, pushing her out of the embrace.
Fresh anger coursed through her. She ripped her mask off her face, her lungs stuttering as the icy wind entered her airways. “Don’t you ever do that again!”
Kate slowly maneuvered to her knees; her ash-covered mask tilted toward her.
Yelena was on her feet now, pacing back and forth, her boots clinking against the truck's roof. “What is wrong with you?” she seethed. “I thought you were supposed to be top of your class, Kate Bishop! But how did I know you’d be an idiot!”
Her partner mumbled something, but her words were muffled behind the mask.
“What?” Yelena screeched, her heart pounding in her ears. It felt like the fire’s savageness had transferred from the building to her; she was shaking with rage, apprehension of what could have happened settling heavily in the back of her mind.
Unclipping her mask, Kate gazed up at her, outwardly as calm as ever, but she at least had the decency to look sheepish. “That guy wanted them,” she argued weakly. “We already got everyone else out.”
“It doesn’t matter!” Yelena hollered. She knew she was drawing everyone’s attention but couldn’t lower her volume even if she tried. “It is an inanimate object! Our job is to rescue people and, if we can, animals! Not a bunch of—” she paused, jerkily riffling through the bag, holding several envelopes in her hands—“letters! You risked your life and mine for letters!” She chucked them at Kate’s kneeling form.
Kate delicately picked one up. The edges were blackened. “I didn’t risk your life,” she argued feebly. “I told you to leave, and I would be right back.”
Yelena felt her eye twitch. “I am your senior! You do not tell me what to do. You follow my orders.” She enunciated each word clearly to get them through Kate’s thick head. “This is your first day on the job, and I am your partner; I am responsible for you! Do you know what would have happened if I left you in there?”
Kate stared at her.
“You would have died! A ton of brick or mortar would have collapsed on you.”
Kate looked away, her eyes shining brightly. Much to Yelena’s annoyance, she began to open the letter. “They’re letters to Santa.”
“Everything alright up there?” Sam called from the driver's door.
“Fine!” Yelena snapped. She lowered her voice to a dangerous hiss that only Kate could hear. “How heroic,” she taunted. “You saved the dreams of children making wishes to someone who doesn’t exist. A wish their parents will grant them anyway.”
“Not these children,” Kate said quietly.
“What’s the supposed to mean?”
Kate picked up another letter, reading what was left of the return address. “These are from Rosewood Refuge, the orphanage. I don’t think they have anyone to fulfill their wishes if these get lost.”
Yelena’s next words died in her throat. Memories of cold, wooden floors, rows upon rows of cots, giggling children, the strict words of the matrons, and the disappointed envy as another child left, assaulted her. Hurt and despair throbbed in her chest as the mirage of a red-headed girl being led away from her faded. She stiffened, lowering her finger still hovering accusatorily in Kate’s direction. She licked her lips. “You’re damn lucky I don’t tell Wilson to kick you out of this station,” she whispered fiercely. “Do this again, and I won’t be so lenient. Do you understand?”
Kate nodded, clutching the bag to her stomach and slipping the envelopes Yelena had thrown at her into it. “I do, thank you,” but she wouldn’t quite look Yelena in the eye.
____________
Flipping several logbook pages over themselves, Yelena inspected their previous night's job, calculating how much gear was used, whether any of their integrity had been compromised, what would need to be replaced, who was on which team, and whether there were any safety violations.
Yelena pursed her lips on the last checkbox, a fresh wave of annoyance rolling over her.
A mug of steaming dark liquid entered her line of vision, startling her as it clinked on the wooden desk next to her logbook. She looked up.
Kate stood over her with a tentative smile as if her thoughts had summoned her. “I brought you a hot chocolate,” she said hopefully. “Eli said you like yours with an orange flavor, so I heated it with some orange extract.”
Yelena grimaced at the peace offering. “He was messing with you. I hate orange-flavored foods.”
“Oh.”
Sighing, Yelena pushed her stationary aside, the disappointment and sadness in Kate’s tone affecting her more than she’d like to admit. However, before she could say anything, Kate spoke quickly, obviously rushing the words out before Yelena could stop her.
“Look, I’m sorry about last night, but I don’t regret going back for the letters,” she started, wringing her fingers. “You’ll probably not like what I say next, but I’ve been looking closer at them.”
She gulped at Yelena’s raised eyebrow.
“Turns out, that guy kept every letter ever submitted to the post office. I think the orphanage can only keep people until they turn eighteen, so most of those letters are from children who have grown up and are long gone.” She hesitantly pulled five letters from her inside coat pocket, setting them gently in front of Yelena. “Based on the dates, these letters are from the children currently residing at the orphanage. You were right when you said it didn’t necessarily matter if regular letters to Santa got lost. Most parents or guardians already know what their children asked Santa for. These children don’t have that safety net, though.”
Yelena glanced at the letters before settling on Kate’s sincere expression, battling the memories threatening to overtake her. “So, what do you want to do?” she asked, her voice slightly shaking. “Return the letters to them?”
Kate shook her head. “I’ve been discussing it with Peter, Cassie, Sonya, Ana, Billy, and Eli; even Captain Wilson wants to participate. We could get them what they asked for in the letters!” She finished her proposition with a slight hop, grinning expectedly.
“No.”
Her smile dropped. “What do you mean, ‘no?’
Yelena’s muscles tensed, and she picked up her pen, twirling it between her fingers. “I’m not denying it’s a nice gesture, but it creates an air of expectation. They'll expect the same next year if we arrive with presents this year.”
Kate shrugged, brow furrowed. “I don’t see what’s wrong with that.”
“Of course, you don’t,” Yelena rolled her eyes. “You’ve only arrived here yesterday. Our department doesn’t have the funds to do this every year.”
“So, we’ll do a fundraiser,” Kate argued. “People love to do grand acts of kindness this time of year. They may not have truly generous hearts, but at least it gives them something to boast to their friends about, making everyone think they are better than them. Besides, I don’t mind paying for some items with my own money. Neither do the others, at least for this year.”
This gave Yelena pause. Kate’s statement was probably the most cynical observation to ever come out of her mouth, and she spoke with such heat and power that it made Yelena wonder if Kate was speaking from experience.
Taking Yelena’s silence as a continued refusal, Kate powered on. “It’s only five letters,” she pleaded. “That will hardly break our banks.” She opened one of the envelopes. “Listen to this. Emery asked Santa for a cat stuffie to hold at night because the building’s creaking pipes scare him. He’s watched the alley cat behind the orphanage fend off other animals twice its size, so he knows the cat stuffie will protect him. We can give him that! Come on, Yelena, don’t you wish you’d—” but Kate cut herself off, hastily shoving the letter back in the envelope, hoping she didn’t pick up on her slip.
But Yelena’s eyes zeroed in on the younger woman. “Don’t I wish I’d what?” she asked ferociously, her gaze flicking along Kate’s body, searching for another letter hidden in a pocket.
“Nothing,” Kate shrugged quickly. “The others and I are going to do it anyway. I only wanted to extend the offer to you.”
Kate reached for the pile on the table, but Yelena slammed a hand down on one of the envelopes. She couldn’t stand the stiffness in Kate’s voice or how those beautiful blue irises refused to look at her. For some god-forsaken reason, Yelena couldn’t stand to have Kate upset with her.
“Fine,” she slid the envelope toward herself, quickly reading its contents. “Timmy wants a…” she stopped, her painfully tight throat not allowing any more words to pass. She blinked hastily, ducking her head to hide the tears threatening to fall. Her heart cracking in two.
“Yelena?” Kate asked softly.
She cleared her throat, pushing away the memories once more. “Timmy wants a memory box. His sister was recently adopted without him, and he wants a safe place to keep some of her belongings.”
A warm hand settled comfortingly on her shoulder. “You can pick a different one if you want.”
“No, no,” Yelena said quickly, crumpling the paper in her haste to keep it. “This one is fine. I’ll take this one.”
As Kate walked away to hand out the remaining letters to the other station members, Yelena checked off the final box in her logbook. No safety violations had been committed.
____________
In the following few days, Yelena found herself in and out of craft stores more often than she had been in her entire life. Still, she hadn’t had a chance to put her gift together. She and Kate needed to respond to two fires, six medical emergencies that required their presence, and one call from a pregnant woman whose fire alarm needed new batteries, and her partner was away on a business trip.
It was only the day before they were set to arrive at the orphanage that Yelena had time to sit down and create Timmy’s memory box. She settled on a simple wooden design with a latched top that opened and closed on black hinges. Yelena glued a designed construction paper to the back wall, the images evoking a sense of time and memories. She also left some odds and ends inside the box for Timmy to personalize. Yelena wrapped several pairs of warm socks because the floors were always cold if her memory served correctly, and she included a new underwear package. She’d gone through them faster than the matrons could wash them. She placed them inside the memory box.
“Hey,” Kate greeted, plopping herself in the seat beside Yelena. “That looks really nice.” She placed the cat stuffie on the table, dressed as a skater boy with baggy jeans complete with a slit in the back for its tail to protrude from and a sweatshirt with holes in the hood for the ears. “Build-A-Bear Workshop,” she explained at Yelena’s questioning look.
Humming, Yelena watched Sonya and Ana wheel in a small green bike with a big red bow placed in the center of the handlebar.
“Lucy asked for a bike to get around the city more easily,” Kate explained, removing her ringing phone from her pocket. Her eyes brightened when she read the caller's ID. “Kamala! Hi, were you able to get the information I needed?”
Yelena swore she saw Kate glance mischievously in her direction.
“Yes, I know it’s a hectic time of year,” Kate spoke into the phone. “Yes, I owe you another favor. The total is six now. Feel free to cash in whenever you want, by the way. Great,” She pulled a spare bit of stationary toward her, scribbling what looked like an address and telephone number before quickly ripping it away from the stack and stuffing it in her pocket. “You’re amazing. Thanks! Love ya!” She ended the call.
“What was that about?” Yelena asked curiously.
Kate shrugged. “Another Christmas gift for someone else,” she answered cryptically, nodding to the memory box. “That’s a lot of effort for someone who didn’t care about giving orphaned children presents.”
Yelena scowled, her heart constricting painfully at Kate's jab. “I do care,” she said quietly. “It’s just,” she inhaled deeply, staving off the inevitable flow of painful memories. “I know what it’s like to get your hopes up and then have them crumble around you.” She stared at the stuffed cat. “I’d love nothing more than to give the children these presents again, but if we cannot continue next year, they’d be devastated. I’d do anything to keep them from feeling like that.”
Kate slowly enclosed her hand over Yelena’s fingers, squeezing tightly. “You sound like you’re speaking from experience,” she broached carefully, her intense gaze lingering on Yelena’s face.
“I am,” and she surprised herself with how readily she revealed that facet of her life to a stranger. What was it about Kate Bishop that made it easy to open up? Was it that they shared a near-death experience? Or the strong will Kate had to be kind to others? Or maybe that annoying, bubbly personality was wearing away at her walls, chip by agonizing chip. Yelena peered at the taller woman, who stared back patiently, expectantly. “I was also a resident of Rosewood Refuge.”
Kate nodded silently.
“My sister and I were shipped from Russia,” Yelena said robotically, recalling the stories Natasha would tell her, but she was too young to remember. “It must have been for some trafficking ring, I’m not entirely sure, but before anything could happen, the authorities found us at the port. We had no papers, and Natasha refused to tell them where we were from, so eventually, they set us up in the orphanage.”
Gaping at her, Kate squeezed her hand harder, and Yelena found that she enjoyed the feeling.
Yelena chuckled sadly. ‘We were there for years; Natasha insisted we be portrayed as a set; one couldn’t leave without the other. Eventually, a couple came in, and they were willing to take both of us.” She swallowed hard, willing the burn behind her eyes to settle as she recalled the following events. “I was so happy,” she whispered. “We had found someone to love us, someone who wanted us.” She chuckled to herself. “I immediately packed my bags even though there were still a few days left in the adoption process.” Her smirk fell. “Then, one day, I woke up, and the matron stood at the foot of my bed. I still remember the grief on her face. She told me the couple changed their mind, and they took Natasha; even when my sister put up a fight, they left with her and left me behind.”
She glanced at Kate, her lips thinning at the brightness shining in her eyes.
“I was in there until I was eighteen.” She smiled self-deprecatingly. “No one wanted me.”
Kate immediately opened her mouth. For a moment, Yelena half-expected Kate to declare that she wanted her, right here, right now, always. Yelena wasn’t even sure what she’d do if she heard those words, but instead, Kate clicked her jaw closed and threw her arms around her.
Yelena instinctively stiffened but couldn’t help easing into her partner’s warmth, enjoying how Kate’s muscles tightened around her.
“Was that the last time you saw your sister?” Kate asked, keeping their embrace.
Yelena nodded, resting her cheek against Kate’s shoulder. “I found out later from one of the other residents that Natasha would periodically come by and demand to see me, but the matrons kicked her out and told her not to return. I think the family that adopted her might have moved. Eventually, she stopped coming.”
“I’m sorry, Yelena,” Kate said for the third time. She pulled away, cupping the blonde’s jaw, tilting her head up. “You are wanted,” she spoke fiercely, her eyes never wavering from where they pierced Yelena’s soul. “So are those children; we’ll show them that tomorrow.”
Yelena couldn’t help but agree. Kate’s tone rallied something deep within Yelena, a type of fever and anticipation to act. She’d be a great public speaker.
The ringing station alarm interrupted their moment, but Yelena couldn’t help thinking having Kate as a partner wasn’t so bad.
____________
“You ready?” Kate asked, keeping pace next to Yelena as they ascended the stone steps of Rosewood Refuge, the sign carved onto a plaque above the front entrance. It was an old building, its corners softened by chiseled curves and twisting stone designs. The only reason it wasn’t torn down was probably because the historical society insisted on maintaining it.
“I guess,” Yelena answered, clutching the memory box to her chest, her firehouse jacket open to protect it from the wind.
Sam had called ahead, so the lead matron opened the door expectantly and smiled kindly at them as they entered.
Yelena didn’t smile back.
She remembered more children running through the halls when she was younger, but all were silent and empty as they were led into the playroom, where five children sat around with various toys, some old and some obviously donated. They stopped mid-play, looking up at them with fearful yet begrudgingly hopeful expressions.
“Children,” simpered the head matron. “These are firefighters. They put out the fire at the post office where you mailed your letters to Santa.”
The smallest child stood, taking a tentative step forward. She had dark hair with a tan complexion, but her hazel eyes stood out from across the room. “Are our letters okay?” she asked.
Kate took the lead, kneeling near her. “They are. We were able to save them and make sure they arrived at the North Pole safe and sound. I must apologize, though. We gave your letters to Santa a little late, so he gave us your presents to give you to make up some time.”
Another child joined the rapidly forming circle. “He did?”
“That’s right,” Kate grinned. “You wouldn’t be Emery, would you?”
The boy nodded.
“Well, I have a little something for you.”
While the other station members handed the children their gifts, exchanging them for loud exclamations and many phrases of thanks, Yelena approached the only child who didn’t join in on the fun. He was sitting alone on a window ledge, staring, unseeing, onto the street below.
“Timmy?” Yelena asked quietly.
He didn’t answer, but Yelena knew it must be the same boy who had written the letter. She remembered the deadness she felt within her after Natasha left, the depression, the pain. “I have something for you.”
That got his attention. He tilted his head toward her, his eyes widening as he saw the memory box she held.
She took a deep breath, handing it to him with misty eyes. “Has anyone told you that it will be okay?”
He shook his head.
No, of course not; no one had said that to her either. “I know it seems like the end of the world right now. Nothing makes sense; the world seems against you.” She handed him a patch from their firehouse. “It gets better, though.”
Finally, he looked up at her, showcasing the bags under his eyes. “I can’t sleep without knowing where she is,” he said brokenly. He took a picture out of his pocket, placed it into the memory box, and trailed his thumb over the image of a girl only a few years older than him—his sister.
Yelena understood, her heart twinging, and she wished she could do more for this child. “I know,” she said simply.
Timmy eyed her, observing the way she held herself and the uniform she was wearing. “It gets better?”
“The pain isn’t as severe, at least,” she offered, backing away as he returned his gaze out the window. Yelena knew there wasn’t much more she could do for him. He was in too raw a state, but she turned back to get one last look and saw Timmy clutching the box with all his might.
“You okay?” Kate asked, her steps echoing down the empty halls as she approached Yelena.
“Yeah,” she shivered. “I just don’t like being here.”
Kate’s cell phone dinged, and she glanced at the message with a growing smile. “Then let’s get out of her. I have a present I want to give to you.”
Yelena blanched. “You didn’t have to get me anything.” She looked away sheepishly. “I didn’t get you anything…yet.”
Chuckling, Kate took her arm, leading her out of the orphanage. “It’s not that kind of present.”
“What do you mean?”
“Can you trust me?”
Falling silent, Yelena allowed Kate to lead her through the front entrance doors.
Kate waved her free arm in a wide arc around them, gesturing to the person who stood at the foot of the stairs. “Turns out she’s been looking for you too.”
For a second, the world stopped as vivid green eyes bored into hers. The city seemed to blur around her, her heart pounding so loudly in her ears that it drowned out every other sound. Yelena could hardly breathe as she stared down the rough, stone steps she had sat on almost daily.
There she was.
She stood near a small car, probably hers, her hair catching the light in a way that tugged at memories Yelena never dared to revisit. Natasha looked different—older, of course, with lines of experience etched faintly around her eyes. But it was her. The same tilt of her head, the same way she shifted her weight when she was nervous.
Her sister.
Yelena’s throat tightened, words refusing to form as her emotions swelled, rising and breaking over her like a tidal wave. She took a shaky step forward, then another, legs trembling as if she might collapse under the moment's weight. Yelena’s hands flew to her mouth, her eyes instantly brimming with tears. “Is—is it you?” she croaked.
Natasha nodded, her lips quivering. She was unable to speak as wetness pooled in her eyes. “It’s me,” she whispered, her voice breaking. She gave her signature, one-shouldered shrug, beaming at Yelena in a way the blonde feared she had forgotten.
And then they were running. It didn’t matter how many people were watching or how many years had passed. The distance between them vanished as Yelena felt her arms wrap tightly around her, holding on like she’d never let go again. Yelena buried her face in Natasha’s shoulder, the familiar scent bringing back a flood of memories—laughing as they hid in the cupboard under the sink, sharing secrets under the covers, holding hands in the dark when they were scared.
“I thought I’d lost you forever,” Natasha sobbed into Yelena’s ear, her voice trembling, barely audible, as she battled the emotions threatening to silence her. “I never stopped looking.”
Yelena’s tears soaked into her sweater. “I—I had always hoped—dreamed of a moment like this. I never thought it could be real.”
The sisters held each other, the years of pain, longing, and hope pouring out in that embrace. For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, the ache in Yelena’s heart began to heal. She was here—her sister, her family, her Natasha—they were finally together again.
After what felt like an eternity, Yelena reluctantly pulled away, loathed to take her eyes off her sister. Still, she pivoted toward Kate, who stood inconspicuously on the stairs, pretending to take an interest in a potted plant.
“Kate!” she called, gesturing her forward. “How? How did you manage this?”
She shrugged nonchalantly. “I have a friend, Kamala, who works with social services. Let’s say I’ve racked up a huge favor to her. I made a few calls and finally got to your sister.”
Yelena’s heart sang as the words ‘your sister’ rang in her ears. “You were in the city?” she asked Natasha.
The redhead nodded, the smile never faltering from her cheeks. “After my parents adopted me, we moved to Ohio, of all places. But when I graduated high school, I went to college at NYU and got a job here, all so I could continue looking for you.”
“How did we not find each other?”
“It’s a big city,” Kate interrupted. “Apparently, the two of you live in different boroughs.”
Yelena reached out, caressing Natasha’s cheek, retaining the feel of her skin in the icy air in case this was a phantom, and her sister disappeared the next time she blinked. Then, a thought sparked in her mind, and she whirled on her partner.
“How did you know? There was not enough time between when I told you my story yesterday and today.”
Kate scrunched her shoulders, sheepishly pulling a letter from her back pocket and handing it to Yelena. “Your letter was also in the bag, dated twenty years ago. In it, you asked Santa to bring your sister back or take you to be with her.”
Yelena licked her lips. She had forgotten about that.
“Oh, Yelena, I’m so sorry,” Natasha lamented. “I should have tried harder to get them to take you. I should have kicked them where it hurt and run back to you.”
Yelena shook her head, fresh tears spilling over her lids. “There’s nothing you could have done,” she whispered comfortingly. “And, hey, I turned out okay. I hope you did, too?”
Natasha smiled wetly. “A degree in international intelligence has gotten me far in life.” She glanced behind her, winking mischievously at Kate. “You’ve got a good one there, sis; don’t waste it.”
Looking over her shoulder at Kate, tilting her head like a lost puppy, Yelena couldn’t help but agree. With a quick pat on Natasha’s arm, Yelena climbed the steps separating her from her partner. She quickly pulled Kate lower and planted a lingering kiss on her cheek.
When they pulled away, Kate gazed at her with wide, round eyes, her hand delicately touching the skin where Yelena had kissed her. “What was that for?”
“That was a thank you.”
“Oh,” Kate’s lips curled giddily. “Well, uh, if you ever need any more favors, let me know. I’d be happy to receive however many thank you’s you’re offering.”
Grinning, Yelena blatantly cast her eyes over Kate, roving them over her figure. “I’ll consider it.”
Natasha joined them, slinging her arm around her sister's waist. “How about we get some coffee? Are the two of you free?”
“Sure,” Kate readily replied, then shied away. “If Yelena is okay with sharing your attention.”
Yelena took her partner's hand, linking their fingers, and looped her arm through her sisters. “I think I’ll have enough time for both of you. Besides, it’ll be good practice for the future.”