Erin glanced at Lena, surprised. They'd been so focused on keeping their relationship separate from work that they hadn't realized how visible their partnership had become.
"The whole city knows you went into that building to save her," Julia said to Lena, her voice carrying admiration and disapproval. "Reckless and brave…and probably the only reason she's alive."
"I used what she taught me," Lena said quietly. "Fire behavior, safe routes, smoke patterns. She made sure I could save her."
McKenna leaned forward. "Which brings us to something we need to discuss going forward."
"We know," Erin said simply.
"Know what?" Julia asked.
"That we can't keep pretending we're just colleagues," Lena said. "Not after this."
"Disclosure forms," Erin added, barely above a whisper. "Professional boundaries. We'll figure out how to do this right."
McKenna and Julia exchanged a meaningful look.
"Actually," McKenna said, "we were hoping you'd say that. Both departments have been discussing how to handle inter-department relationships more formally. You two would be perfect for new protocols."
"What do you mean?" Lena asked.
"We want to support this," Julia said. "What you've accomplished—solving this case, protecting the community, demonstrating that personal relationships can enhance professional excellence—it's exactly what we want to encourage."
Erin felt Lena's fingers find hers across the space between beds.
"The community is watching," Hallie said gently. "Two queer women saved Phoenix Ridge and fell in love doing it. That's a story worth telling."
"If you're comfortable with that," McKenna added quickly. "There’s no pressure to be the poster couple. But if you choose visibility, you'll have our support."
Erin looked at the cards and flowers surrounding them, evidence of a community that had embraced their partnership. She thought about young firefighters who might see theirrelationship and understand they didn't have to choose between love and their career.
"We'll think about it," she said, squeezing Lena's hand.
"Take your time," Julia said, standing. "Focus on healing first."
After they left, Erin and Lena sat quietly, surrounded by flowers and the weight of decisions ahead.
Evening settled over the hospital room like a gentle blanket. The afternoon's visitors had gone, leaving behind their flowers and cards and the lingering sense of community support. Outside the windows, Phoenix Ridge's lights began to twinkle as the city transitioned from day to night.
Erin had graduated from the oxygen mask to a nasal cannula, making conversation easier, though her voice remained rough. Lena had finally been convinced to order dinner from the hospital cafeteria, and she was carefully helping Erin manage small sips of soup when the real conversation began.
"So," Erin said after swallowing carefully. "Poster couple."
Lena set down the spoon and leaned back in her chair, which she'd pulled close to Erin's bed. "Heavy words."
"McKenna and Julia seemed pretty confident we'd say yes."
"They know us well." Lena was quiet for a moment, absently straightening the blanket across Erin's legs. "Or they think they do."
Erin watched Lena's hands smooth the fabric with unnecessary precision. "What are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking about what it would actually mean," Lena said. "It’s not just filing disclosure forms or standing together at department events, but really being visible. Being the couple that everyone points to when they talk about inter-department relationships working."
"That’s a lot of pressure."
"And responsibility." Lena met her eyes. "Young firefighters, police officers, and people just starting their careers who might look at us and think it's possible to have both."
Erin felt something warm unfurl in her chest. "Would that be so terrible?"
