Page 157 of Knotting the Firefighters
This is going exactly where I think it's going.
And I'm not sure how I feel about it.
"I'm proposing that you both run Station Fahrenheit for the next two months," Tom declares with confidence that suggestshe's already decided this is the optimal solution. "Co-chiefs, equal authority, shared responsibility for operational decisions and crew management."
Aidric's sharp intake of breath suggests this is news to him, too—no advance warning, no consultation, just an administrative decision presented as fait accompli.
Two months.
Working alongside Aidric in leadership capacity.
With all our unresolved tension and competing approaches, and the particular combustibility of putting two strong-willed people in shared command.
"Aidric—" Tom's attention shifts fully to him, paternal concern mixing with professional assessment. "—you've demonstrated commitment to this station, shown leadership potential that deserves cultivation. But you have areas requiring development, habits that need breaking, approaches that need refinement."
Diplomatic.
Saying 'you're not ready for full command' without destroying his confidence.
"Chief Murphy has experience you lack—not just years of service, but specific expertise in transforming dysfunctional crews into elite units, implementing protocols that save lives, and most critically, the confidence to make decisions without second-guessing herself into paralysis."
Ouch.
Calling him out directly.
Not pulling punches despite their personal relationship.
Aidric's jaw clenches—visible effort required to accept criticism he clearly recognizes as accurate, despite his pride rebelling against acknowledgment.
"Two months working alongside her will teach you more than any amount of formal training," Tom continues, convictionevident. "You'll observe decision-making processes, learn command presence, and understand how to balance authority with approachability."
He turns back to me, expression softening slightly.
"And Murphy, you'll benefit from Aidric's intimate knowledge of this crew, his understanding of local politics and community dynamics, his particular strengths in tactical planning and resource management."
Mutual benefit.
Learning from each other.
Forced proximity that will either forge stronger pack bonds or destroy us completely.
"Do you both approve of this arrangement?" The question is formality—Tom's tone suggests refusal isn't actually an option, that this decision has already been made, and we're simply confirming our cooperation.
I glance at Aidric, reading tension in his posture, frustration in the set of his jaw, but also grudging acceptance that this might actually be beneficial despite his pride protesting the arrangement.
He wants to succeed.
Wants to prove himself.
Even if that means accepting help from an Omega, he's conflicted about.
"I approve," I confirm, decision crystallizing with certainty. "Think the collaborative approach will strengthen station operations and provide valuable experience for both of us."
Diplomatic.
Professional.
Not revealing that working this closely with Aidric is either going to be incredible or catastrophic, with zero middle ground.
