Fic ~ Smoke (11/12)
Title ~ Smoke
Rating ~ PG-13 (for language and general intensity)
Characters ~ Rafael Nadal, Carlos Moya, Mario Ancic, Roger Federer, Mirka Vavrinev, Andy Roddick, with appearances by many others.
Warnings ~ Implied slash and het, scary situations.
Disclaimer ~ Disclaimers are boring. I claim Andy's self-depreciating charm.
Author’s Notes ~ Inspired by, but not a re-telling of, the Rome hotel fire. (With nudges from the Bordeaux hotel fire to hurry me along.)
Part Eleven ~ In which there is only one way to go.
Rafael came down next, at Mario’s insistence. He was shaking fiercely when he dropped to his feet in front of Carlos, but there was a familiar determination in his eyes. He would be fine now that they were moving, now that he had something to focus on other than his fear. Carlos felt an absurd swell of pride when Rafael announced that he would go first this time, even as they were still helping Mario down.
Carlos took a good look at Rafael’s burnt hand, wincing at the blisters already forming, but knew better than to argue. Standing at the railing, he explained to Rafael how to lower himself and how to swing his legs in when he let go to make sure he cleared the railing. He could see Rafael swallowing hard as they looked down to make sure the balcony below was clear, but his face betrayed nothing.
“Just keep looking at us,” Mario said. “We’ll be right here.”
Rafael nodded, the wind blowing hair across his face. He took one deep breath and swung a leg over the railing. Carlos reached out with Mario to grip his arm tightly, but knew that when the time came, he would let him go.
~
A police officer had spotted Tommy sitting on the curb, smoke smudged and still coughing. Roger watched as the man tried to convince him to walk over to one of the ambulances that were just beginning to arrive. Tommy stubbornly insisted that he was fine and refused to move. For a moment, Roger worried that the officer would press the issue, but instead he turned to he and Mirka.
“Make sure they check him out,” he warned as he moved off to see if anyone else needed help. Roger nodded. He wouldn’t have any more luck than the officer had, but it seemed pointless to tell him that.
Roger glanced over to where the Spaniards were gathered and saw Toni speaking urgently with one of the firefighters, with the others looking on. At the edge of their group, it looked like Fernando and Feliciano were arguing, quietly but intensely. Fernando was obviously pleading, but Feliciano’s face was cold and hard. Fernando caught hold of Feliciano’s arm, but he pulled free and turned away.
Roger could not imagine what could possibly be worth fighting about at a time like that. Then Feliciano was marching past the other Spaniards to come up to Toni’s side. He said something to the firefighter, something Roger couldn’t hear. The firefighter responded calmly, lifting his hands in a placating gesture, but Feliciano was obviously unhappy with his answer. He exchanged sharp words with Toni that brought some of the other Spaniards, David and Nicolas and Tommy among them, closer. Fernando tried again to take Feliciano’s arm, and was again shrugged off.
This time, though, Feliciano did not simply turn away. Waving off the firefighter, he started toward the hotel.
Instinct made Roger twitch in his direction, but he realized the Spaniards had things well in hand. All of them moved to stop Feliciano, but it was Fernando who got there first. He put himself in Feliciano’s path and stood his ground. When Feliciano tried to go around him, he moved. When Feliciano tried to push past him, he pushed back. The others did not interfere, but stood ready, with the firefighter looking on helplessly. There was a moment when it seemed they would come to blows, but Feliciano stopped suddenly.
Roger could see his shoulders heaving even at this distance, and he was unsurprised when Feliciano collapsed suddenly into Fernando’s arms. Finally, the others moved in to add their strength to Fernando’s, and all of them together brought Feliciano back away from the hotel.
Roger felt selfish, but still prayed that all his friends would be okay.
~
Andy had tried shaking the body on the stairs, but got no response. He considered yelling, but that seemed sure to provoke another coughing fit, and the alarm would drown him out anyhow. He was searching for a pulse when he encountered the bracelet of small wooden beads, and despite being blinded by the smoke, he knew then who he’d tripped over. Marat.
Marat was unconscious on the stairs, and the building was on fire. Great.
Andy didn’t have many options. Staying there, with the fire over their heads and the smoke growing thicker would leave him no better off than Marat. On the other hand, he couldn’t just leave him there, either, and hope that he got to safety quickly enough to send someone back for him. That left one. Marat would have to come with him.
It couldn’t have been one of the smaller guys?
Still, he didn’t hesitate. Shifting to sit below where Marat was sprawled, he leaned back and looped his arm under one of Marat’s thick legs. He then caught hold of Marat arm again and pulled it up, over his shoulder. There was a moment when thought he couldn’t do it; Marat was just too heavy, and he wasn’t strong enough after breathing smoke for the past several minutes. Then Marat’s weight shifted forward, and Andy got his shoulders under it, and he realized that he could.
Standing was a serious effort, fighting to keep his balance and not breathe too deeply. When he was mostly upright, he gave himself a few seconds before venturing that first step. His leg held, though shakily, and he took another. By the time he reached the next landing, he had found a rhythm, though he didn’t know how long he could sustain it.
“Dude,” he said to Marat between clenched teeth. “You owe me so much beer.”
To be continued...
Rating ~ PG-13 (for language and general intensity)
Characters ~ Rafael Nadal, Carlos Moya, Mario Ancic, Roger Federer, Mirka Vavrinev, Andy Roddick, with appearances by many others.
Warnings ~ Implied slash and het, scary situations.
Disclaimer ~ Disclaimers are boring. I claim Andy's self-depreciating charm.
Author’s Notes ~ Inspired by, but not a re-telling of, the Rome hotel fire. (With nudges from the Bordeaux hotel fire to hurry me along.)
Part Eleven ~ In which there is only one way to go.
Rafael came down next, at Mario’s insistence. He was shaking fiercely when he dropped to his feet in front of Carlos, but there was a familiar determination in his eyes. He would be fine now that they were moving, now that he had something to focus on other than his fear. Carlos felt an absurd swell of pride when Rafael announced that he would go first this time, even as they were still helping Mario down.
Carlos took a good look at Rafael’s burnt hand, wincing at the blisters already forming, but knew better than to argue. Standing at the railing, he explained to Rafael how to lower himself and how to swing his legs in when he let go to make sure he cleared the railing. He could see Rafael swallowing hard as they looked down to make sure the balcony below was clear, but his face betrayed nothing.
“Just keep looking at us,” Mario said. “We’ll be right here.”
Rafael nodded, the wind blowing hair across his face. He took one deep breath and swung a leg over the railing. Carlos reached out with Mario to grip his arm tightly, but knew that when the time came, he would let him go.
~
A police officer had spotted Tommy sitting on the curb, smoke smudged and still coughing. Roger watched as the man tried to convince him to walk over to one of the ambulances that were just beginning to arrive. Tommy stubbornly insisted that he was fine and refused to move. For a moment, Roger worried that the officer would press the issue, but instead he turned to he and Mirka.
“Make sure they check him out,” he warned as he moved off to see if anyone else needed help. Roger nodded. He wouldn’t have any more luck than the officer had, but it seemed pointless to tell him that.
Roger glanced over to where the Spaniards were gathered and saw Toni speaking urgently with one of the firefighters, with the others looking on. At the edge of their group, it looked like Fernando and Feliciano were arguing, quietly but intensely. Fernando was obviously pleading, but Feliciano’s face was cold and hard. Fernando caught hold of Feliciano’s arm, but he pulled free and turned away.
Roger could not imagine what could possibly be worth fighting about at a time like that. Then Feliciano was marching past the other Spaniards to come up to Toni’s side. He said something to the firefighter, something Roger couldn’t hear. The firefighter responded calmly, lifting his hands in a placating gesture, but Feliciano was obviously unhappy with his answer. He exchanged sharp words with Toni that brought some of the other Spaniards, David and Nicolas and Tommy among them, closer. Fernando tried again to take Feliciano’s arm, and was again shrugged off.
This time, though, Feliciano did not simply turn away. Waving off the firefighter, he started toward the hotel.
Instinct made Roger twitch in his direction, but he realized the Spaniards had things well in hand. All of them moved to stop Feliciano, but it was Fernando who got there first. He put himself in Feliciano’s path and stood his ground. When Feliciano tried to go around him, he moved. When Feliciano tried to push past him, he pushed back. The others did not interfere, but stood ready, with the firefighter looking on helplessly. There was a moment when it seemed they would come to blows, but Feliciano stopped suddenly.
Roger could see his shoulders heaving even at this distance, and he was unsurprised when Feliciano collapsed suddenly into Fernando’s arms. Finally, the others moved in to add their strength to Fernando’s, and all of them together brought Feliciano back away from the hotel.
Roger felt selfish, but still prayed that all his friends would be okay.
~
Andy had tried shaking the body on the stairs, but got no response. He considered yelling, but that seemed sure to provoke another coughing fit, and the alarm would drown him out anyhow. He was searching for a pulse when he encountered the bracelet of small wooden beads, and despite being blinded by the smoke, he knew then who he’d tripped over. Marat.
Marat was unconscious on the stairs, and the building was on fire. Great.
Andy didn’t have many options. Staying there, with the fire over their heads and the smoke growing thicker would leave him no better off than Marat. On the other hand, he couldn’t just leave him there, either, and hope that he got to safety quickly enough to send someone back for him. That left one. Marat would have to come with him.
It couldn’t have been one of the smaller guys?
Still, he didn’t hesitate. Shifting to sit below where Marat was sprawled, he leaned back and looped his arm under one of Marat’s thick legs. He then caught hold of Marat arm again and pulled it up, over his shoulder. There was a moment when thought he couldn’t do it; Marat was just too heavy, and he wasn’t strong enough after breathing smoke for the past several minutes. Then Marat’s weight shifted forward, and Andy got his shoulders under it, and he realized that he could.
Standing was a serious effort, fighting to keep his balance and not breathe too deeply. When he was mostly upright, he gave himself a few seconds before venturing that first step. His leg held, though shakily, and he took another. By the time he reached the next landing, he had found a rhythm, though he didn’t know how long he could sustain it.
“Dude,” he said to Marat between clenched teeth. “You owe me so much beer.”
To be continued...