Chapter Text
“We’re gonna die!”
Rosabelle closed her eyes, fighting the urge to not murder some sense into the wailing man across from her. It didn’t matter, though. The small gesture did nothing to soothe her spiked nerves. She knew that the moment she opened her eyes, she would only be greeted by the same thing: the absolute blackness that now played friend to what used to be a law firm.
“We’re not going to die, Jeff,” she said, her voice firm as she strained her eyes. Even from her vantage point, the darkness was all-consuming. Rosabelle could only make out a few details, like the faint silhouette in what she assumed to be her terrified coworker's general direction. “I think.”
“You think?!” he blanched, wheezing. “W-what do you mean, you think?!”
“I was joking. We won’t die.”
“And how do you know that, huh?” Jeff snapped, his voice pitching into a frantic layer of helplessness. “How do you know? This is all your fault, after all! If you hadn’t dragged me in here to look over my case—during my billable hours, too—neither of us would be trapped here—”
Another aftershock slammed into the building, biting his need for a scapegoat clean in half. His terror spiked, choking out his words as he became more horrified by the counting minutes they had left. The floor pitched violently, tilting at a sadistic angle, and Rosabelle knew she needed a way out. Now. She knitted her brows together. She tried to catalogue what she knew to be true. She searched the files of her mind, hoping that action would grant her a viable plan to escape. Hopefully with minimal damage.
She just needed to think.
But it was hard. It was hard to think when so much was happening all at once. Everything around her was wrong, and when she faintly touched the side of her head, her hand came away wet. Time was of the essence and she needed to be quick. Quicker, even.
Jeff screeched for a third time as the building took another hit. A volley of curse words slipped past him, followed immediately by a string of prayers. Jeff had never been the religious type; Rosabelle could recall plenty of times he’d proudly sworn to that fact. But life-or-death scenarios bring out the most unexpected traits in people—a realization that only deepened the immediate horror of their situation as they tried not to topple over one another.
Another minor quake struck, and Rosabelle lunged blindly until her fingers found purchase. She gripped the edge of a mahogany desk, anchoring herself as the world violently shook for what she hoped would be the last time.
But then it hit her; Another sensation. Another aftershock.
Clara. Rosabelle realized in her desperate scramble to steady herself. Clara is still at school.
“Oh God,” Jeff cried, the sound of his heavy, panicked breathing filling the void around them. Even without full sight, Rosabelle could practically feel the tears and mucus streaming down her colleague's face. “I’m too young to die! I haven’t even m-made partner yet—”
“You were going to make partner?”
“No,” he called back meekly, sniffling a little as the ground finally stirred back to sleep. “Well, not yet. But I could. You n-never know...”
At this, the building wobbled, the structure giving a small warning of what was to come.
“Well, then, if you want to make partner,” Rosabelle said coldly, “then I think it might be best if you stopped screaming every time there's a small shake,” she finally pointed out, weaving her earlier irritation back into the dark. Although, just around the corner, she could just barely see a small stream of light peeking out. “Now shut up. If you want to live, let me think.”
“D-Do you really think I could make partner, Rosabelle?”
“No,” she replied flatly, her mind already shifting to a tracking route out of the building. “But like you said, you never know.”
“Thank you…” Jeff murmured.
Rosabelle sighed and restarted her mind, her thoughts, her heart. She just needed a sequence. A precise, logical exit route. She knew the general layout of the building, and the layout of this floor in particular, but the earthquake was, of course, unkind.
Everything was turned over in its aftermath. Nothing was left unaccounted for in its chaos as it tore through the law firm's structure.
No matter how many times Rosabelle replayed the moment the earthquake struck, she could never make sense of her survival. Regardless, she swallowed the thoughts and craned her neck, focusing her eyes on that small stream of light peeking from just around the corner, their only torch against the dark. Though, no matter how hard she stared, it was hard to tell if the small stream of light was pouring out of a window, or what used to be a window.
Rosabelle frowned, her mind mapping out what she remembered of her workplace. The light came from the firm’s left side, the side directly facing the narrow alleyway that kissed the neighbouring building. Based on the floor they were currently trapped on, Rosabelle knew that alleyway bordered a smaller building with a flat rooftop. That rooftop could prove useful. Once she got the chance to test the floor’s stability, she could try navigating carefully across the wooden boards, which the collapse had turned into a minefield.
It wasn’t a good plan; it wasn't even close to her best. But it was a plan, nonetheless. She could feel her primal instincts overriding her exhaustion, adrenaline coursing through her veins and shadowing the throbbing pain in her temple—
Then came a crash.
Then a thud.
Then voices.
Two distinctive, unfamiliar voices.
“James!” hissed one of the voices. He sounded panicked, a little breathless. “You can’t just come in guns blazing into every fucking room. You need to be more—”
“LAFD! Is anyone here?” a second voice boomed. It was louder, clearer than the first as it cut through the dark. James. Rosabelle could only presume that was who the unfamiliar voice belonged to as she turned her head toward the oncoming sounds.
“In here!” Jeff yelled, completely ignoring her previous command to stay silent. “We’re in here. Help! Please!”
A turn of a corner, a flash of light, and two tall figures, clear silhouettes against the dark background, came into focus. Rosabelle shuddered, her grip on the desk loosening as she tried and failed to stabilize herself once more, but without notice, her knees gave out. She slid onto the hard, cold floor.
“We’re here. We’ve got you,” said the louder stranger—James. “Don't worry. We’ll get you both out in no time.”
Rosabelle felt her eyes burn at the sight, her hand coming up in front of her face to shield herself as one of the beams of light came toward her.
“Jesus, could you be a little more careful? Please?” the other voice called out. “Not for me, then for your sorry ass when I have to drag—”
“I’ve got this one, Kenji,” said the louder voice, his heavy steps eating the remaining distance between them, ignoring the other's—Kenji’s—evident annoyance. Slowly, Rosabelle lowered her hand, blinking through the spots in her vision as he towered over her. “Hey, are you okay, ma’am?”
Rosabelle tried to answer, but suddenly, she forgot how her mouth worked. Her tongue felt foreign in her mouth. No matter how hard she tried, she unable to make a single, sensible sound. She probably looked crazy. Maybe even drunk. Exhaustion and head pain and aching bones came in all at once, her adrenaline coming to a full stop.
The firefighter—James, she assumed—sank into a crouch, and even in the remaining dark, she could still see his heavy turnout gear creaking, slung all around him. Even in the dim, ashy light, the stranger's eyes were sharper and more intensely focused than she thought possible.
He searched for her person, searched her features, but still kept from touching her.
“Take a breath,” he said, his loud voice dropping into a calm, steady rhythm as her brain slowed and her nerves began to die down. She felt tired now. So tired. “You’re safe now. Can you tell me your name?”
“Rosabelle,” she managed to choke out, her fingers still blindly scraping against the floor, searching for the desk she had just slid down from. “My name is Rosabelle.”
Strangely, he smiled at this. Or at least, she thought she saw him smile. She felt dizzy, like the world was being erased just beyond the corner of her vision.
“Okay, Rosabelle,” he said slowly. He leaned in just enough to meet her, to steady her. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m James. I wish we could’ve met under better circumstances.” He held out a tentative hand, just enough to steady her. “I still can’t fully tell in this dark, but I need to know if you're hurt anywhere. Can you stand?”
Before she could muster up another reply, a loud, metallic groan echoed roughly from the ceiling above them. Dust rained down on both of them. From across the space of the room, Jeff let out another sharp cry.
“Okay,” the other firefighter breathed. “That… yeah, that isn’t good. That’s not a sound I like to hear. At all. James, we need to move out. Now.”
James turned toward his colleague, giving him a quick, short nod. “Couldn’t agree more. Definitely no arguments here.” Then he looked up, examining the ceiling. “Yup. Looks like this whole room could topple over any minute.”
“Any minute?” Jeff cried from somewhere in the back, his panic made more evident than ever. He sounded like he was close to tears. “What do you mean any minute!”
“He’s joking,” said the other voice, the other firefighter, Kenji. “We’ll get you out.”
“That is not reassuring!” Jeff barked.
Amid Jeff’s bickering, James turned back to her. His expression was shadowed by the grim set in his jaw. “Alright,” he said. “We don’t have a lot of time, so I’m gonna lift you, Rosabelle. Hold on to me.”
“Wait, what—”
In one swift motion, James hooked an arm under her legs, lifted her up in the air, and took her into his arms. Her cheek was flush against the coating of his uniform, and all the air was sucked straight from her lungs. Her heart hammered, beating for an entirely different reason than the crumbling room threatening to cave in upon itself.
And then, without another thought, they ran.