Chapter Text
Pearl arrives to fire already in motion.
Flame has eaten halfway up the watchtower and is clawing for the rooftops beyond. She doesn’t hesitate — she never does. Axe down, line cut, wind assessed. Containment first. Questions later.
Then she notices the figure standing inside the heat shimmer.
Not trapped. Not panicking.
Watching.
Pearl swears under her breath and strides forward.
“You need to move. Now.”
The stranger turns slowly, like she’s been expecting Pearl all along. Soot freckles her sleeves, but her posture is perfectly composed: chin lifted, eyes bright, utterly unconcerned by the inferno behind her.
“Are you always this dramatic on first meetings,” she asks lightly, “or am I special?”
Pearl blinks. “That’s a dragon.”
A winged silhouette shifts behind the smoke, exhaling a ripple of heat.
“Yes,” the woman says, pleased. “Isn’t she magnificent?”
Pearl stares at her. Then at the dragon. Then back.
“You’re standing in an active burn zone.”
“And you,” the woman replies, stepping closer with impossible calm, “are standing between me and my work.”
Pearl’s ears burn hotter than the fire. “Your work is setting the hillside on fire.”
“My work,” she says, voice velvet-soft and annoyingly amused, “is preventing her from panicking enough to set the entire valley on fire.”
Pearl opens her mouth. Closes it. Opens it again.
“…You can’t just—” She gestures helplessly at the dragon, the flames, the woman’s audacity. “…be here.”
The woman tilts her head, studying Pearl with open curiosity. “You’re very earnest. It’s charming.”
“I’m not charming,” Pearl snaps, heat creeping up her neck. “I’m containing a disaster.”
“Then contain it,” she says smoothly, as if offering a dance. “I’ll calm the cause.”
The dragon shifts again.A tremor of pain, a flare of fire.
Pearl moves on instinct, stepping forward, shield raised. The woman moves at the same time, one hand lifting in a gentle, reassuring gesture toward the dragon.
They stop inches apart;containment and calm meeting in the same space.
Pearl exhales sharply. “If this goes wrong—”
“It won’t,” the woman says, unbothered. Then, with a faint smile, “But if it does, you look very capable of saving me.”
Pearl chokes on the smoke. “I am not— That’s not—”
“Gem,” she says, as if that settles everything.
Pearl blinks. “What?”
“My name.” A small, confident nod. “And you are?”
“…Pearl.” It comes out more breathless than she intends.
Gem’s smile widens, satisfied. “Lovely.”
Behind them, the dragon’s breathing begins to slow — flames shrinking from frantic to uneven. Pearl notices. Adjusts her stance. Redirects the fireline with precise, efficient cuts.
Gem watches her work with open appreciation. “You run toward danger,” she murmurs. “I like that.”
Pearl’s grip tightens. “I run toward responsibility.”
“Of course you do.”
They work in parallel without agreeing to it,Pearl containing the spread, Gem steadying the source. Heat fades to embers. The dragon lowers its head.
When it’s over, Pearl finally lets her shield dip.
Gem steps closer, unconcerned by the lingering warmth. “You’re very good at what you do, Pearl.”
Pearl clears her throat, suddenly aware of ash on her armor and the way Gem is still standing too close.
“…So are you,” she admits, then immediately frowns. “But next time, you don’t stand in the fire.”
Gem’s eyes sparkle. “Next time, you try not to look so flustered.”
“I am not flustered.”
“Mm.” A pause. A smile that promises future trouble. “Until next emergency, Firefighter.”
Pearl watches her go, heart still beating too fast — from the fire, obviously.
Absolutely the fire.