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It’s all too loud.
But at the same time, it’s deadly quiet.
Her wife, Maya— her Maya—is never quiet. She’s always moving. But now?
Nothing.
Just hours ago, they were laughing in bed. The blonde’s eyes sparkled as they discussed their next steps to start a family, while the brunette’s fingers traced patterns on her bare back.
The firefighter was off shift. They had a blissful 24 hours together, just the two of them in the sanctuary of their home. And they were planning to make the most of it.
Until the four-alarm call came in.
Maya had complained about getting up; she just wanted to stay a little longer, especially at 2 a.m. But with a skyscraper on fire, lighting up the night sky, both women knew she had to go.
I've seen stars reborn in your eyes
Sky's on fire tonight
One life is never long enough
One life is never long enough
At last call, turn out the lights
I hope I treated you right
One life is never long enough for us
The scene was a nightmare: black smoke filled the air, and flames engulfed the building.
People were everywhere—being evacuated, searching for their families, taken to triage. Firefighters rushed in and out of the building.
It didn’t matter if they were hurt. They all repeated the same thing: “Just one more.”
Lieutenant DeLuca-Bishop was one of them.
Every time she got someone out, she was already going back in. She could barely see through the smoke; no lights pierced its thickness.
Everywhere she looked, there was destruction. An explosion had taken out multiple floors. Bodies were scattered everywhere—innocent, unsuspecting people who had simply been sleeping. Now, they were either dead or injured.
Maya knew she had to stay focused. Distractions got people killed.
But as she entered yet another bedroom and saw two women entangled in bed, she couldn’t help but pause.
The taller woman was holding the shorter one, just like Carina had held her earlier.
The crackling of her radio startled her. “Bishop! What’s your status?”
Right. The two women.
“I have two more apartments to go, and then the 34th floor is clear,” she said, taking a breath before moving toward the taller woman.
But there wasn’t a heartbeat left to find.
Holding her breath, she reached for the shorter woman, hoping for a miracle. It didn’t change the results.
Letting out a shaky breath, she grabbed her radio again. “Two women in apartment 347—” Her voice broke. “D.O.A.”
There was a moment of silence before Andy replied, “Copy that, Bishop. Move on to the next.”
They were supposed to stick together, but the fire was growing too fast. The team had been forced to split up.
Maya knew what she had to do, but she couldn’t move. The scene in front of her was all too familiar—the two women, the taller holding the shorter one, apartment 7. Hell, the shorter woman was blonde too.
It was too much.
She stumbled back, all she could focus on was getting out of this place. She needed to get out, she needed to be safe, she needed her wife, she needed Carina.
Everywhere she looked, there was destruction. She wouldn’t have recognized her love—her Carina—even if she stood right in front of her.
God, what she wouldn’t give to rewind time, to be back in their bed, watching her wife smile.
Too many people walk around with hearts hidin'
Terrified of hurtin', so they stay silent
Don't know what it's worth just to let a light in
Through the shade
If love had come to me, I wouldn't recognise it
Now every time you smile, it's a little priceless
No story I could weave would have ended like this
No way
Two more apartments. She could do this. She could clear the last two apartments and then wait for new orders.
The nightmares she would inevitably face from this call? The bruises on her body? The cuts, and the arm she suspected was bruised earlier? None of it mattered.
Not right now.
The bruised arm would heal, the cuts would scab over, the bruises would fade. And Carina? Carina could soothe any nightmare.
Maya would struggle, try to carry all the weight of this night on her own shoulders. But the brunette would help. She always did. Carina’s voice would keep his voice out of her mind—the voice that whispered she should have been faster, that she failed, that she was a failure .
No, Carina would hold her, brush the tears from her cheeks, and remind her she was loved .
All your troubles, all your pain
Let me struggle, carry that weight
All your devils fall away
You're so easy to love
She barely noticed the next apartment she entered. She knew she cleared it, but she couldn’t recall what it looked like. It was empty—that much was certain.
One more.
One more apartment, and she could move to her next task. Each one brought her closer to Carina.
She just needed to check one more.
One more, and she’d be closer to going home.
Home. Where the nightmares of the two eerily familiar women would haunt her. But home was also where Carina would keep her safe.
She just wanted to go home.
Lost in thoughts of Carina, she barely noticed the growing heat around her.
The building had been burning for so long now, flames lighting up the night sky. The heat was unavoidable, pressing down on her like a heavy weight.
She entered the last apartment.
Room after room, she cleared them, each one empty. Until she reached one of the final rooms.
A father sat on the ground, panic etched into his features. He held a cloth over his mouth with one hand and clutched a small boy tightly with the other.
“Please! My son! You have to help my son!”
Maya didn’t hesitate. She was already moving, taking the boy from his father as the man scrambled to his feet.
“What’s your name, sir?” Maya asked, trying to keep her voice steady. He needed to calm down.
“Roberto,” he stammered, his voice trembling. “But I—please! You have to help my boy! He’s all I have left!”
It was only then that she noticed his accent—Italian.
She glanced down at the boy in her arms, and her stomach churned. He couldn’t have been older than three. Brown curls clung to his sweat-dampened forehead, just like the ones she and Carina had talked about that night.
The little boy they dreamed of—the one who would look like his mamma , for Maya to count her blessings on.
First, the two women. Then the apartment number. Now Roberto, the Italian man, and this little boy who looked heartbreakingly like Carina.
It was too much.
Maya forced herself to focus. “Okay, Roberto. I know this is scary, but I need you to stick close to me. I’m going to get you both out of here, but we need to leave. Now. Is there anybody else in the apartment?”
She could do this. She was a firefighter. If she just kept her eyes forward, she could get out of here with Roberto and the boy.
“No! No, there’s nobody else!”
“That’s good. Okay, follow me. We have to go. Come on!”
She took a deep breath and started toward the door, Roberto close at her side, the boy still cradled in her arms. She focused on his small chest, still faintly rising and falling. That movement was everything.
But the problem with intensive therapy—the kind designed to stop her from pushing forward without thinking—was that she hadn’t yet figured out how to turn it back on when she needed it.
When she couldn’t afford to think about her wife.
Her beautiful wife.
The one she was going to start a family with.
Maybe even a boy like the one in her arms.
The boy in her arms who was struggling to breathe.
Maya knew better than to break protocol. But she also knew he needed oxygen, and he needed it now.
Without hesitating, she removed her own mask and placed it over his face. “Breathe, little guy,” she whispered as they moved toward the stairwell.
Smoke began to fill the space, but the stairs hadn’t been compromised yet.
They hurried down, step after step, Roberto’s panicked breaths echoing behind her. But Maya’s own lungs began to tighten. The smoke was taking its toll, clawing its way into her chest.
Reaching the fourth floor, Maya nearly collided with another firefighter—Hughes.
“Maya! Where’s your mask?” Vic’s voice was sharp, her expression a mix of anger and fear.
But Maya couldn’t stop now. The boy in her arms was barely breathing. His father, Roberto, was two steps ahead, frantic but still following orders.
“He’s barely breathing, Hughes! I had to—he’s—” Her voice cracked, desperation creeping in. “Vic, I had to. ”
Her eyes pleaded with her friend, even if her words couldn’t convey the turmoil in her mind. She didn’t have the time or energy to explain the storm raging within her. She just needed Vic to understand.
Vic’s frown deepened, but she didn’t argue. “Maya! The stairs aren’t safe anymore. You need to get to the second floor and then down the hall to the main stairs!”
Maya nodded, already moving. She barely registered that Roberto was still trailing close behind.
They hurried down the remaining stairs and through the door into the second-floor hallway.
Destruction was everywhere—beams and pipes littered the floor, and the ceiling sagged precariously above them.
They were almost to the main stairs when a beam crashed down in front of them, blocking their exit.
“Dammit!” Maya hissed.
She turned quickly and pushed the boy into Roberto’s arms. “Roberto! Take him!” she ordered, already shrugging off her air tank.
The Italian man’s eyes widened in confusion. “What are you doing?!”
“He needs oxygen!” Maya snapped, strapping the tank onto Roberto as she spoke. “I can push through without it. He can’t. ”
Once she was certain the boy was secure, she moved to the beam blocking their path. She crouched beside it, muscles coiling as she prepared to lift.
“I’m going to move the beam,” she explained, locking eyes with Roberto. Her tone was firm, leaving no room for argument. “As soon as you have a clear path, you run. Get outside. There’s help surrounding the building—they’ll get him the care he needs.”
Roberto’s face was stricken, but he nodded, clutching his son tightly. He understood. He had to.
Maya wasn’t sure what happened next.
She remembered lifting the beam, the surge of relief as Roberto rushed through with the boy. For a fleeting moment, everything felt lighter.
Then something heavy slammed into her back.
The impact sent her sprawling, and the beam fell from her grasp with a deafening crash.
She tried to push herself up, but the weight pinning her down was unbearable. Her back screamed in agony, and she was certain a rib had snapped. Her arm—if it wasn’t bruised before, it definitely was now. Her head pounded relentlessly, and worst of all—she couldn’t feel her legs.
She’d been to enough scenes to know that was bad.
Really bad.
Strength seeped out of her body, leaving her helpless beneath the debris. The path she’d been clearing was out of sight, and she knew the other firefighters might not see her either.
A tear slipped down her cheek.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
It was supposed to be a good day.
One that could never last long enough.
Her day off. Just her and Carina.
Carina.
Even now, the thought of her wife made her smile. Maybe—just for a moment—if she closed her eyes, she could see her.
She knew she needed to stay awake. And she would.
But just for a little while, she let herself picture Carina.
Her wife, who would hold her close and keep her safe. Who could distract her from the pain, the nausea, and the tightness in her lungs.
Carina’s eyes sparkled in her mind, just as they had this night when they’d talked about babies.
Her wife, with whom she just wants to spend a little more time, even if it would never be long enough.
The fire roared around her, and the smoke thickened, clawing its way into her chest. But it felt impossible to open her eyes again.
And why should she?
Carina was right there. If she just kept her eyes closed, she could see her wife.
Carina would understand. She wouldn’t be mad if Maya rested for just a second. Right?
I've seen stars reborn in your eyes
Sky's on fire tonight
One life is never long enough
One life is never long enough
At last call, turn out the lights
I hope I treated you right
One life is never long enough for us
It was supposed to be their day off.
They’d planned to spend the entire day in bed. Between baby talk, shared meals, and sex, there wouldn’t have been space for the outside world.
That’s what today was supposed to be.
But four-alarm fires don’t care about plans.
They tear through everything beautiful, leaving only ashes behind.
Carina knew it would be a while before Maya came back. But she would come back. She always did.
Their routine was unshakable. They would kiss—soft, lingering kisses filled with promises. They’d say their goodbyes, see you laters , and I love yous, only to kiss again for good measure.
Maya would leave for her shift and return hours later, smelling of smoke and exhaustion, pouting when Carina sent her straight to the shower.
It wasn’t supposed to rip their home apart.
Maya was supposed to come back.
She was supposed to walk through the door, her smile radiant, recounting every detail of the call with that unmistakable firehouse enthusiasm. Ever the firenerd.
And later, when the adrenaline wore off and the horrors of the call began to seep in, Maya would hold Carina close. She’d bury her face in the crook of her neck as the fear and sadness caught up with her.
Because no matter how brutal the world outside became, their home was the sanctuary where they healed.
But this time, Carina stood alone in that sanctuary, her chest tightening with each passing second.
Because Andrea Herrera wasn’t supposed to call Carina today.
She wasn’t supposed to call. Not when Maya was in the middle of a four-alarm fire.
The phone buzzes in Carina’s hand, her heart sinking as she sees Andy’s name on the screen. For a moment, she considers not answering.
If she doesn’t pick up, Maya will still be fine.
If she doesn’t pick up, Maya will be on her way back to her, safe and whole.
But Carina can’t risk it. With trembling hands, she swipes to answer.
“Andy…?” Her voice shakes, fear already settling in her stomach.
There’s no immediate response. Just silence on the other end, broken only by the distant wail of sirens.
“Carina—” Andy’s voice finally comes through, strained and raw, laced with a pain Carina doesn’t want to name.
“Andy,” she presses, panic rising, “where is Maya? Is she okay? What’s going on?”
Andy’s silence drags on, and Carina feels the weight of the world on her chest.
“It’s—Carina, you need to get to Grey Sloan.” Andy’s voice cracks, and the words hit like a blow. “It’s bad. I’m so sorry.”
Carina feels the world tilt, her breath stalling in her chest. She drops the phone, barely hearing the line go dead. Her mind races, but her body doesn’t move. She can’t process what she’s just heard. She needs to get to Grey Sloan. She needs to see Maya, now .
Everything blurs as Carina grabs her coat and rushes out the door, not even realizing she’s left her phone behind. The car ride is a blur of anxiety, her thoughts scattered between prayers and fears she can’t bring herself to voice.
She makes it to the hospital, every step heavier than the last. Her legs feel like lead, her heart pounding in her chest as she steps through the door. The emergency room is chaotic—doctors rushing, nurses shouting—but all Carina can hear is the deafening silence of her own mind.
She doesn’t even know how she ends up standing in front of the trauma room, but there she is.
The room where her wife is.
Her wife. Her home . Her everything .
The chaos was starting to settle. Doctors and nurses filter out of the room, Bailey gently ordering everyone to give her space and time.
But Carina doesn’t want space.
She wants Maya.
She wants time —but only if it is with her wife. Not this. This time isn’t meant for living; it was meant for saying goodbye.
There’s a part of her that still refuses to believe, still thinks this is all just a nightmare. But as she steps inside, seeing Maya lying unconscious on the table, battered and bruised, she knows the truth.
Maya’s here.
Her feet carry her closer, until she’s standing at Maya’s side. Her face is dirty, the smell of smoke thick in the air, but she doesn’t mind. It’s Maya, her Maya.
The Italian keeps her eyes fixed on the blonde's face as she reaches out to grab her hand.
It’s wrong. Her wife’s hand never feels wrong, but now it does. Carina can’t explain it. The temperature is still normal, but it still feels wrong. Maybe it’s the weight.
Once Maya had realized that holding hands was safe, comfortable, she’d always hold on. Give a squeeze and hold on for as long as she could.
But there’s no squeeze this time. No reassuring touch. Maya’s hand is limp, unresponsive.
It’s all too loud.
But at the same time, it’s deadly quiet.
Her wife, Maya, her Maya, is never quiet. She’s always moving, but now?
Nothing.
And in that moment, Carina knows—this is a goodbye, though she isn’t ready for it.
Not yet.
She leans down, her face closer to Maya’s, using her free hand to brush the hair from her face. A tear falls onto the firefighter’s cheek.
“Mi dispiace bambina,” she whispers, brushing the tear away, smudging the ash on her face in the process.
She wishes they could go back to this morning. Back to the warmth and comfort of their bed. Where they were wrapped around each other, where time didn’t exist. Where everything was simple and safe, before the world came crashing down.
She just wants to go back, stay there forever. Hold her wife tighter when the call came in. Make her stay at home. With her, safely.
It wasn’t supposed to be their time yet. They’d just gotten back on track. They were supposed to have more time. Maya was excited, about their future, but also the little things. Like the walk in the park they wanted to do at sunrise.
Now the sun is rising, but her wife is in the ER, her wife, who is now dead.
She doesn’t know how long she stays there, her fingers still lightly tracing the outline of Maya’s hand, not daring to let go. The room is heavy with the kind of silence that fills the space when everything else feels like it’s falling apart.
Carina wishes she could make this moment last. She wishes she could turn back time and hold on to everything they had before it was torn away. But she knows it’s too late.
And all she can do now is hold on, even if Maya can’t.
Every time I look at you, I'm reminded
That nothin' lasts forever, nothin' stays timeless
Someday there'll be a kiss and there'll be goodbyes
We're not exempt
Oh, I could lay beside you a thousand lifetimes
Live a thousand more and still pray for sunrise
Everything before you was a warning of what it meant
Whoa-oh
It’s not fair.
Carina feels like she failed her wife.
She was supposed to help Maya carry her troubles, her pain. She was supposed to carry the weight of the world for her, but now Maya is lying there, and Carina can’t even pull her out of this. She was supposed to be strong for her. She was supposed to be the one to hold her together.
Instead, she’s left standing here, next to the woman she loves, feeling helpless and broken.
She stands there, time losing its meaning, with Maya’s hand in hers. She whispers reassurances—softly, gently, in both English and Italian.
She needs Maya to know it’s okay. That she’s safe now. That the nightmares and the hurt, the trauma she’s carried for so long, will never come for her again.
The devil will leave her alone.
But more than anything, Carina needs Maya to know she’s loved.
Maya always forgets she’s loved. She forgets how deeply she’s cherished, how much Carina needs her, how much everyone around her loves her.
Carina brushes a strand of hair from Maya’s forehead, her touch gentle, as if she can somehow transfer all the love she feels into that one motion.
She needs to know. She can’t leave this world thinking she’s unloved.
Maya is so, so lovable.
Carina can’t imagine a world without her. The thought of it is too painful to bear.
“Maya,” she whispers again, her voice trembling, “you are so loved. You always have been. Please… please know that.”
She waits, her heart in her throat, for some sign that Maya can hear her. That somehow, despite the silence, she’s still there. Still with her.
But all she hears is silence.
And Carina holds on tighter.
All your troubles, all your pain
Let me struggle, carry that weight
All your devils fall away
You're so easy to love
Carina wants to see her blue eyes.
She loves her wife’s eyes, those vibrant, vivid blue eyes that once held so much pain, but also so much love.
It took so long for Maya to stop hating her own eyes, always claiming they were his . But Carina remembers the first time she saw it, that flicker of acceptance, when Maya finally saw that her eyes were hers.
Carina loves those eyes. The way they light up when Maya’s happy. The way they soften when she’s loved. But right now, they’re closed.
The sun is rising outside, painting the sky orange, a different shade from the one that took Maya away.
Carina barely notices it, so fixated on her wife. But her heart beats faster when she hears footsteps, and she knows—they’re here. Bailey, Amelia, and Andy.
She doesn’t want to leave. Not yet.
She wants more time. So much more time.
Her chest tightens as she stays glued to Maya’s side, just holding on. This isn’t long enough. Not nearly.
But then, Bailey reaches up to the heart monitor, and Carina’s stomach twists. The sounds had been turned off when she first entered, but now, Bailey’s finger presses a button and the screen that had been on flickers out, too.
“No.” The word escapes her, a whispered plea, and Carina shakes her head, refusing to let herself see the pity in Bailey’s eyes. The sadness that Carina can feel coming from Andy, but can’t bear to look at.
Amelia reaches towards her, her hand landing gently on Carina’s shoulder. Carina immediately shrugs it off, the touch too soft, too gentle.
She clings to Maya’s hand, her fingers curling tighter around her wife’s lifeless one. She threads her other hand into Maya’s hair, Maya isn’t too soft, she would know what to do. Her breath shaky, the words a quiet mantra of love, of reassurance. “You’re safe, my love. You’re so safe now. I’m here. Always.”
She doesn’t notice the looks exchanged between their friends, doesn’t see the worry in their eyes.
She doesn’t notice when Bailey and Amelia begin removing the wires, the electrodes still stuck to Maya’s body. But she notices the way they do it, so carefully, so gently, like they’re taking her apart, piece by piece.
Her Maya.
Maya, who always struggled to feel loved, to feel calm, who carried so many demons with her.
That’s all Carina needs to remember. She keeps whispering reassurances, her voice steady, soothing, hoping Maya can somehow hear her.
She can do this. She can make her wife feel safe. She can make Maya feel the love she’s always tried to give her.
The fact that her wife doesn’t feel anything anymore is something Carina chooses to ignore.
She won’t face it. Not yet.
Not until she has to.
For now, she’ll hold on to Maya. She’ll stay here, breathing in the smoke-scented air, letting the weight of her love be enough.
I've seen stars reborn in your eyes
Sky's on fire tonight
One life is never long enough
One life is never long enough
At last call, turn out the lights
I hope I treated you right
One life is never long enough for us
“Carina, honey, you have to let her go. They have to take her away for a little while now.”
Bailey’s voice cracks, but she won’t say it outright. Carina can hear it anyway. The morgue. They want to take Maya to the morgue.
“No,” Carina whispers, shaking her head fiercely. She can’t. They can’t have her. Maya is hers. They belong together. She’s her wife. Her responsibility.
“Carina…” It’s Andy this time, her voice soft, but broken. “You have to let them take her. Just for now. I’ll get you back to her side as soon as it’s allowed. She won’t be alone for long, but they have to get her ready to rest.”
Rest. Maya never could rest. How could Carina forget that?
Her wife had never been able to let go, always fighting the urge to sleep, to rest, as if the world would fall apart if she did. Maya had always been afraid of what might happen when she let herself rest, she didn’t know how to stop.
“Maya…” Carina gasps, holding on tighter, her grip tight on Maya’s hand, as if she could keep her there with her forever.
The words are barely a whisper, raw and desperate. “It’s okay, bambina. It’s okay. You can rest. I won’t be mad, you’re safe now, and—” Her voice cracks, tears slipping down her face, landing on Maya’s skin, a reminder of the love she won’t ever stop giving. “And nobody will be mad. It’s okay to rest, you’re okay, bambina. I love you so much. Rest now, amore. It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m okay. Just rest now. I love you so much, bambina.”
Her tears fall in torrents now, hot and uncontrollable, slipping onto Maya’s still face as she whispers those words over and over again, like a prayer.
Amelia’s hands grab hers and take them away from Maya, and Carina feels like she’s being ripped apart from the inside. She can’t stop them. She can’t stop the inevitable.
Maya needs to be cleaned. The room needs to be prepped. Carina would never have enough time.
She knows that. She would always want more. Want longer.
More time to hold her. More time to love her. More time to make everything right.
But all she can do is this. Let go. Let them take Maya.
She kisses her wife’s forehead one last time, the words sticking in her throat. “I’ll see you soon. I promise. I’ll be right here, waiting.”
And as the room empties out, as Maya is gently taken from her arms, Carina is left alone, her heart breaking into pieces that may never be whole again.
one life is never long enough
(Ooh-ooh) one life is never long enough
one life is never long enough
(Ooh-ooh) for us
The next days pass in a haze.
One second, they’re taking Maya away from her, and in the next, Carina finds herself sitting in a church, a place she’s never thought she’d be this soon. She’s surrounded by the faces of people who loved Maya, who loved her, too. But it all feels distant, like she’s watching someone else’s grief.
She knows she’s been in the apartment. She knows she’s spent most of her time sitting in the shower.
Her friends try, Maya’s friends try, but no one really knows how to help her. No one can fill the space Maya left. No one can be Maya .
She doesn’t want it to be over.
The funeral makes it real, and Carina can’t stand it. Seeing the casket, hearing the eulogies, knowing that Maya won’t walk through that door ever again. That it’s truly, undeniably, over. She isn’t ready for this. She isn’t ready for goodbye.
Can’t they go back in time? Just a few more moments, just a little longer.
They were just lying in bed together. The warmth of her wife’s body pressed against hers. Their shared day off. Carina hadn’t wanted to say goodnight yet, and they had kept each other up. Until it was 2am and then that dreaded call came in, pulling Maya away from her.
Carina wants it all back.
What she wouldn’t give to hold her wife again, to feel her arms around her, to hear her laugh, to see Maya’s smile—her smile, the one that always made everything feel like it could be okay, no matter what.
But now, all she has left are memories.
She doesn’t want it to be over. She’s not ready to say goodbye.
I don't want it to be over
I don't wanna say goodnight
That mornin' in December
For the rest of my life (d-oh)
I don't want it to be over
I don't wanna say goodnight (d-oh)
That mornin' in December
For the rest of my life
It’s been two days since the funeral. The weight of it still hangs heavily over her, like a suffocating fog. It was beautiful, just like Maya had been—so full of life, and yet now, all that’s left is this cold, unbearable silence.
Andy gave a speech, her voice breaking as she shared memories of Maya’s strength, her kindness, her resilience. Vic had rung the bells, the deep sound filling the church, marking the finality of it all. Stating that Maya could finally rest.
Carina can’t bring herself to accept it. The bells, it doesn’t feel right. Maya never rested. She fought every inch of her exhaustion, her pain, her trauma, the bells don’t have the power to change that.
Carina is the one who needed to tell Maya it was okay to rest. It was never supposed to be this way. It was supposed to be her , standing beside her wife, helping her find peace.
She won’t sleep in their bed. She can’t. Everywhere she looks, she sees Maya.
The way the towels are stored in the bathroom, the way the pillow on the couch was left half-pressed down, the nightstand, the drawer full of little things they’d shared. And the sheets.
The scent of Maya lingers in the sheets, and Carina can’t bring herself to let anyone wash them, or anything belonging to Maya, anything that still carries her smell. Her friends seem to understand, though. They don’t ask. They don’t push. They let her keep those small, fragile pieces of Maya close, even though it hurts.
The bathroom mirror is her next battle.
She made the mistake of looking at it the day of the funeral. She tried to dress up for Maya one more time, thinking maybe it would feel like a final act of love—something for her wife.
But as she stood there, staring at her own reflection, she saw Maya standing in the doorframe. Not real, but enough to send her heart racing.
The blonde stood there, her eyes lit up, sparkling with pride, the same pride she always had when she looked at the brunette.
For a second, Carina let herself believe that Maya had come back, that somehow, Maya was still here with her.
But the moment was fleeting. The vision of Maya disappeared as quickly as it had come, and Carina crumbled, collapsing to the floor as sobs wracked her body.
She hasn’t looked in the mirror since. She’s too afraid to risk it—to risk seeing herself again and not seeing Maya standing beside her, proud and smiling, like everything would be okay.
She can’t let go. Not yet. Not when she still feels her wife’s presence in every corner of their home, in every breath she takes, in every quiet moment where her heart still reaches for her.
It’s been two days, and Carina still can’t bring herself to accept that this is her reality. But today, something feels different. The need to understand—really understand—what happened to her wife, to Maya, has consumed her.
The funeral, the constant stream of visitors, the well-meaning words, all of it has pushed this moment away. But now, standing in the hallway, staring at Andy, Carina can’t ignore it any longer.
She needs to know what happened to her wife.
Her voice betrays her, barely a whisper, “What happened?” She wants to ask with strength, with the clarity that will make it easier to hear, but it’s impossible.
Andy looks at her, hesitant, her gaze filled with uncertainty. "I—Carina? Are you sure?" Her voice falters, and Carina knows that this isn’t easy for Andy either. But she needs the truth.
"Please," Carina pleads, her eyes desperate. "I just—I need to know. Please."
After a long breath, Andy nods, motioning toward the couch. But Carina doesn’t sit beside her. Instead, she perches herself on the armrest. She can’t be comfortable right now, not when she’s holding the weight of so much unknown.
Andy sighs, her voice heavy with sadness. "It was... it was horrendous. They—" She pauses, visibly struggling. "They told you about the basics of the call, right? The explosion? The fire?"
Carina’s heart skips a beat at the mention of the explosion. She nods, trying to steady her breath. Someone from the department had filled her in on the call itself—the fire, the chaos, the heroism. But no one had told her the details of why Maya didn’t come back. Why she wasn’t there beside her now, wrapped in her arms.
Andy looks down for a moment, gathering the words she clearly doesn't want to say. “They didn’t tell you what happened?” she asks softly.
Carina shakes her head, a tightness forming in her chest. “No. They just... said she didn’t make it. But I need to know. I need to understand what happened to her.”
“We had to split up,” Andy says, and Carina’s heart stutters. That’s not supposed to happen.
Maya always told her, time and time again, that they stick together, no matter what. But she doesn’t interrupt. She can’t.
“There was too much destruction, too little time. Our floor was stable, but there was so much smoke... There weren’t enough firefighters, so we split up. We just needed six more apartments. She took three, and I took three."
Andy pauses, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "The last one... She found a boy and his dad. The boy was barely breathing, so she gave him her oxygen.”
For a moment, Carina’s stomach churns. The image of Maya in that moment, her wife—her Maya —giving her oxygen to a stranger, feels like a betrayal. But she knows it’s not.
She wants to hate the boy for taking her wife’s last breaths, but she can’t. Maya was always that selfless, always willing to give, even if it meant her own life.
“Vic saw her, as she was evacuating them,” Andy continues. “Vic ran into her. She was carrying the boy. Hughes said she looked panicked. She called her out on the mask, but Maya was begging her to understand why she had to give him the mask. She seemed desperate, in a way.”
Andy’s voice falters, and she sighs shakily before continuing. “I... I found the dad afterwards. They were almost at the exit when a beam blocked their way. Maya took off her tank and got the dad to carry both his son and her oxygen tank.
She told him she’d pick up the beam, and as soon as he could, he needed to run. Run to safety, to get the boy the help he needed.”
Carina’s stomach drops at the image of Maya, exhausted, alone, with a beam blocking her escape.
She can’t picture her wife—so strong, so capable—sacrificing herself like this. But she knows Maya. She knows that’s exactly what she would have done. She would have given everything, every ounce of herself, to help someone else, to make sure they were safe. Even if it meant her own death.
She wants to scream, to pull Maya back to her, to beg the universe to give her back her wife. But instead, she just listens, nodding slowly, taking in every painful detail. She needs to know. She has to know what happened to her.
She doesn’t want to hear it. She doesn’t want to know the details, but she has to. She needs to. Because Maya deserves to be remembered fully, to have the truth spoken, even if it breaks Carina even more.
“Carina, the boy, he—” Andy pauses, her voice trembling. “He’s okay, he’s fine.”
The relief floods Carina’s body.
But then Andy speaks again. “But Carina, the boy? He and his dad are Italian. The boy looked just like you.”
Everything stops.
For a moment, Carina can’t breathe. The air feels thin and distant, as if her world is slipping out of focus.
They had talked about babies before Maya left. They talked about a little version of her. Maya wanted a little version of Carina to count her blessings on.
Andy continues, not noticing the wave of emotion crashing over Carina. “Right after the dad got past the beam, there was another collapse. A piece of concrete from the ceiling landed on Maya’s back and legs. She was unconscious when we found her.”
Andy doesn’t want to think about finding her best friend. The pass alarm was loud . And her best friend was lying in the debris, stuck and unconscious. A smile on her face, one that her friends immediately recognized as the smile reserved for Carina.
“You ehm, you know the smile she has? The one we call the Carina smile?” a chuckle escapes from them both as Carina nods. She knew the smile so well, as if Maya had never experienced something more wonderful, the smile her wife brought out in her was always the brightest.
“She wore it when we found her.”
Tears flowed down her face. She doesn’t want to cry, but even in the worst situation Maya still thought of her .
But Andy continues, her voice becoming ragged with emotion. “We got her out, into the aid car. She still had a heartbeat, but it was slow. We couldn’t do anything but get her to the hospital as fast as we could.”
“We did everything we could... but in the end, she couldn’t hold on. Her heart stopped... in the aid car. I called you. I stayed with her. I tried .”
Carina closes her eyes, blocking out the words. She can’t hear them anymore. Her heart stopped. Maya’s heart had stopped . Maya was gone.
And then, a sob breaks free from Andy’s chest. “The paramedic from station 86, he was about to call it, told his colleague to cut the lights and sirens. I hadn’t given up yet, I couldn’t. She’s, she’s my family.”
Another sob escapes, it was too much, someone telling her to stop bothering to bring her friend back? She almost punched Jenkins in the face, but she was too busy giving Maya CPR. She wouldn’t give up, not again. She wouldn’t let her best friend and her wife down again.
“We got her pulse back. I yelled for them to drive faster. She stayed stable until we got to Grey Sloan.”
The firefighter kept quiet about the broken promises she whispered. That Maya would be okay, she just had to hang on, everything would be just fine. That she would be home with Carina before she knew it.
She had meant it. But the blonde would never return home to her wife the way they want her too.
Her voice falters, but she continues, each word a deeper wound. “We got her into the ER... they were assessing her. But her heart stopped again. And this time, nobody could bring her back.”
A guttural sound rips from Carina’s throat as she gasps for air. It’s like she’s drowning, suffocating under the weight of all of this. Maya—her wife—had died, alone. And Carina couldn’t save her.
Her chest tightens, and the tears fall freely now, mingling with Andy’s. They cry for the same woman. They cry for the same love lost. Maya—her Maya—was gone. And no amount of crying, no amount of wanting her back would bring her back.
She died doing her job, she died a firefighter.
And while one day it might have been her wish, to die on a call.
Both women knew that Maya didn’t want anything more than forever with Carina. Growing old, having a family, she wanted it all. But only with Carina.
She joined the station as a probie with self-care Wednesdays, not afraid to die. She spent half her life thinking about the clouds. Dying on a call had once looked perfect to her.
She left the station as a married lieutenant, former captain. Who wanted nothing more than to spend forever with her wife, dying was no longer something she wished for. She just wanted to spend forever with her wife, with their family .
But somewhere, buried under the pain and loss, she knows Maya didn’t die for nothing. She didn’t die because she had to. She died because she was Maya. And Maya loved, with everything she had, right up until the end.
I've seen stars reborn in your eyes
Sky's on fire tonight
One life is never long enough
One life is never long enough
At last call, turn out the lights
I hope I treated you right
One life is never long enough for us
No words were spoken as Carina moved back to the shower.
Her wife, her Maya, is dead.
No more future, no more waking up to kisses, no more smiles, no more laughing.
The cold side of the bed would never be because of a morning run or a surprise.
The cold side of the bed would permanently be because of a call.
The call that took her wife.
Her home.
Her life .
one life is never long enough
(Ooh-ooh) one life is never long enough
one life is never long enough
(Ooh-ooh) for us
One life is never long enough for us