Page 1 of Burn Protocol

I look around the small room, feeling slightly nervous. It is filled with all sorts of people, from hospital staff to long-term patients, and even members of the board. They are all here for the presentation of the newest issue of Woman at the Front. For the woman on the cover—Catherine Durand, the head of the trauma department.

The woman who nearly single-handedly set up the new trauma center across the street, while she was running the ER with her iron fist. The doctor is feared as much as she is respected. Her reputation as an ice queen had already reached my ears before we officially met.

I must admit, cracking her was quite a challenge, and for a short while I wasn’t sure if I could. Her walls were so high and impenetrable. But when her wife walked in during our second meeting, all of that seemed to crumble. If it wasn’t for Mary, I would have never gotten Catherine to speak about the personal impact her job has on her and her family. Her wife, however, insisted she open up for once, and the doctor finally let her armor down.

A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth at the thought I would almost consider them friends now. They are at the least close acquaintances. Mary even insisted that we stay in touch now that the interview is done.

I normally don’t get so close to my subjects, at least not on a personal level. When I am interviewing, my mind is buzzing with curiosity. I drink in everything they are willing to share, and I push them if it doesn’t feel like it’s enough. However, when I have gathered the information, written the article, and they have given their feedback, I politely wrap up the contact. Friendly enough so that I can always reach out to them again, but distant enough to keep the relationship purely professional.

Mary saw past that though. Maybe it is because she is an author herself, or maybe because she saw her wife actually connecting with somebody outside of their inner circle. Apparently, it doesn’t happen often. But it did happen with me, and part of me is glad. I haven’t made that many friends yet here in Barcelona. Plenty of acquaintances, yes, but not the kind of connections that invite me over for dinner.

A soft hand on my shoulder pulls me from my thoughts. I look over to see Catherine’s piercing eyes boring into mine. A shudder runs down my spine, and for a brief moment I understand again why she is called the ice queen.

That is until she speaks.

“Are you nervous, Maya?”

Her eyes flicker over my face to read any information my words don’t convey. I smile weakly. The truth is that I am. There is a lot riding on this article, on its success.

My boss, Helen Dubois, decided to give me a second chance after firing me a little over six months ago. We had a huge falling out and I suddenly found myself unemployed in a foreign city. I pulled through with freelancing at way too low prices, but it pressed heavily on me. Still does.

When she reached out to offer me a chance to redeem myself, I jumped on it, grabbed it with both hands. I am aware she needs my skills as much as I need my old position back, so we both have something to gain. But it’s clear that my needs heavily outweigh hers, which she is not afraid of using against me.

So, I push myself to the edges of my abilities with this three-part series on first responders. And not just to show Helen that I am up for the task either — she already knows that. No, this is all about me. To gain back the trust that I have lost in myself.

When Catherine raises an eyebrow and slightly tilts her head towards me, I realize I haven’t answered her yet.

“I guess I am, Doctora.”

A smile tugs at the corners of her lips at the way I address her, the same playful tone her wife uses, but vanishes almost as quickly as it came.

“This is important to you, yes?”

“Of course. I want to show people your world, the sacrifices you make, and the burdens you carry.”

“Maya, you have written a powerful article. You have understood me in a way I never deemed possible.” She chuckles softly. “Your words are reflecting me better than any mirror can.”

I feel the heat rise to my cheeks at her compliment, and I lower my eyes as I smile. She chuckles again and squeezes my shoulder softly, before a deep voice interrupts us.

“Maya.”

I look up to see Helen’s blue eyes piercing through me. She actually came. It isn’t common for her to visit these kinds of presentations, so I am pleased to see my article sparked enough curiosity within her to show her face.

“And you must be Doctor Durand?”

Catherine nods once. Short and clipped. Her warm eyes now emit a cold, assessing glow as she takes in my editor-in-chief. The ice queen has slipped back behind her walls.

If Helen is surprised, she doesn’t show it. She simply flashes her most poised smile and nods her head slightly.

“Thank you for your contribution. To the magazine, of course, but also to the city. I’ve heard the hospital would not be what it is today, if it wasn’t for you.”

“You give me too much credit, but thank you.”

Catherine’s voice is cold, drained of all personality now, and I struggle not to smirk. Helen might be the editor-in-chief, but she lacks people skills. That’s why she needs me.

But before I can gloat, she nods again, this time more clipped. Then she turns on her heels and whispers something to one of the board members. He nods once and then walks onto the tiny platform they raised for the occasion.

“Ladies, gentlemen—doctors.” He pauses for a moment.