Faith and Heartache by Gabbie 'Damn, I'm tired!' With a slight effort Mike scrambled out of his truck and pushed the door shut. It slammed home with a resounding thud. 'Whoops, sorry'. Quite apparently he underestimated the strength he still possessed, even though he felt like Methuselah. He gave his truck and apologetic pat on the hood, realized this was slightly silly and snatched his hand back. After a furtive glance around he breathed a sigh of relief. Good, nobody around, the last thing he needed was his friends' ribbing. Really, if he heard one more comment about car-fetishes he'd…. Mike let the thought trail out, mostly because he was clueless about what he'd do, and inhaled deeply. The morning air smelled fresh, like a spring brook, conjuring up a magical image of a green valley; nature at its best, unspoiled by human hands. He tilted his head back and let the sun and mild breeze wash over him. The morning's brilliance promised a beautiful day ahead. Trying, but not quite succeeding, to stifle a yawn, he crossed the lot in long strides. Shift was only just starting and already he needed a nap. He grinned and shook his head. 'I better take it easy, no more dates with Sheila the night rider before a workday, I'm getting too old for that'. Mike's grin intensified at the memory of the night before. Maybe he should introduce Sheila to Johnny. Each of them an energy-producing dynamo in their own right, with their combined energy, they could light up downtown Los Angeles. Still smiling he entered the apparatus bay and gazed proudly at the engine. Every time he looked at the shining red rig, a warm and special feeling filled him. He also knew that despite their sniggers and good-natured barbs, deep down his crewmates and friends understood him.  A sudden angry shout cut rudely into his contemplation, making him flinch. It burst out of the locker room and reverberated through the bay in irate waves. 'Oh man you've got to be kidding me'.  Mike put his hands on his hips, shaking is head in disbelief. With a tired motion he touched his temples and rubbed them gently. 'No, not already. Shift hasn't even started yet'! Mike braced himself, squared his shoulders, and walked into the locker room. "Morn…" The greeting died on his lips as he stared at his friends. The scene before him was something to behold. Chet leaned against his locker; laughing, Marco and Roy stood around Johnny, shaking their heads. Johnny sat on the bench, pulling socks covered in a lumpy, white substance, off his feet, his face contorted with anger. "What the hell is that?" Mike was intrigued in spite of himself. "Rice pudding." Marco turned to his friend and rolled his eyes in mild disgust. "Chet stuffed it in Johnny's boots." "Yeah, and I don't have any spare boots here, damn it!" Still shouting, Johnny looked up at the engineer, forgetting to lower his voice in justifiable outrage. "Take it easy buddy, I had nothing to do with this." Mike tried to get a handle on the situation. "I would help you out, but my spares are at least a size and a half larger than yours." A grin played around his mouth. "You could stuff socks or paper in them, but you'd be tripping over your own feet all day long." Johnny took a deep breath and brushed the stray hair off his temple and forehead in an abrupt motion. Looking up at his friend he drew a deep breath and his anger subsided a little. He even managed a weak, one-sided grin. "Yeah, just my luck. The only one who could help me out here is related to Bozo the Clown." The crooked grin grew larger as the dark haired man spoke. "Hey!" Mike grinned back, "you leave my family out of this." The tension in the locker room relaxed, one could almost hear a sigh of relief. Roy handed his friend a towel, while Marco retrieved a pair of socks from his locker. Thus supplied with aid and comfort, Johnny commenced to wipe the oatmeal out of his boots. "Thanks guys." He regaled Chet with a glowering look, the prankster's triumphant grin however, never wavered in even the slightest degree. "ROLL CALL IN FIVE MINUTES." Hanks voice boomed through the station, startling his men into a frenzy of activity. Mike leapt to his locker, unbuttoning jeans and shirt in mid-jump, while Marco put on his boots, although not before giving their insides a suspicious once over.  Roy pulled his shirt and jacket out of his locker, while Johnny frantically wiped the inside of his abused footwear. Thanks to Chet's antics, they all made it just in time with only seconds to spare. They lined up by the engine; annoyance hung heavy in the air. Hank, immediately aware of the strained atmosphere, took a closer look at his crew. Yep, if they weren't all giving Chet dirty looks, he was a monkey's uncle. Greeting his men, he mentally revised the duty roster. Might be better if the 'phantom' kept his own company for a while. "Mike, check the engine and then you and Marco take care of the hoses. Johnny, the rec. room, the floor in there is filthy, take care of it. Marco, clean up the kitchen, Roy, you have cooking duties and help Mike take care of the apparatus bay. Chet, latrine, then strip and change the bunks." Hank looked at his paramedics. "Dwyer left me a note, they ran the supplies low last shift, and didn't have a chance to restock. You need to make a run to Rampart, but don't take all morning, okay?" Satisfied with the confirming nods he received, he checked his clipboard and focused his attention back on his men. "Last item. I want you all to check your turnout coats, bunker pants and helmets. If they show wear and tear, I expect you to let me know about it. They're not there to be comfy; they're there to protect you. If they need to be replaced, tell me! Any questions gentlemen?" No sound from his crew forthcoming, he nodded and headed back to his office, determined to put as much space as possible between him and his very obviously disgruntled men. After checking the equipment, the paramedics readied themselves for the run to Rampart. Roy grabbed the keys and shoved them into his pocket. That is, that's what he set out to do. The pocket would not yield; the keys slipped down the bewildered man's leg and fell to the bay floor with a jingle. "What the…" Roy pulled on the flaps of his pockets, only to discover, that they were sewn shut. With a deep sigh the paramedic bent over to retrieve the keys. 'This is gonna be a very long shift for all of us'. "I guess the oatmeal was just the overture." Johnny pulled a face as he watched his friend and partner with sympathetic eyes. "But at least you didn't get dirty or wet." "Pretty sad, if that's the silver lining." Roy turned upon hearing a cackle emanating from the direction of the rec. room. "Ha, ha, very funny Chet. I hope you poked yourself with the needle when you were working on my surprise." "Temper, temper Roy. There's no need to get vicious you know." Chet's grin would've made the Cheshire cat proud. Frowning, Johnny stared at the fireman, his eyes narrowed. "Chet, let me tell you something…" Roy shook his head and put his hand on his partner's shoulder, nipping the threatening Johnny-rant in the butt. This was futile, a waste of time. "Let it be Johnny, there's no stopping him when he's in that kind of mood. Nothing you say will make a difference." He propelled his friend forward with a friendly but determined motion. "Let's get to Rampart and pick up the supplies." Chet disappeared into the rec. room; the satisfied grin still plastered on his face.  Sighing again Roy nodded at Mike and Marco, who stood silently watching this harbinger of things yet to come. "You guys better watch it, he's on a roll. My guess is that we are all in his sights today. See ya later." With a wave he went to the squad and slid behind the wheel, joining Johnny, already in the passenger seat. "Ready?" At his partner's nod, Roy pulled the vehicle out of the station and disappeared down the street. Mike and Marco exchanged looks. "You know", Marco stroked his mustache. "Chet's pranks are coming faster and faster lately. I mean his jokes are usually pretty funny, but coming so fast, one after the other…." He shook his head. "I wonder what's firing him up?" "I haven't the slightest idea," Mike could only shrug helplessly, he had no explanation. Straightening up he raked his fingers through his thick hair. "Well, if he tries anything on me, he better be prepared for the echo." He looked longingly at the engine. "You wanna check the gear now or wait till later?" Marco laughed; a toad could read his friend's mind right now. "Let's check'em out and get it over with." Marco opened the closet and grabbed his coat. He almost pulled the whole rack down in his effort. "DAMN IT CHET!" Marco's angry shout startled Mike. Really, his friends would make him overdose on adrenaline if they didn't stop these sudden outbursts. Running footsteps announced Hank and Chet's approach. Hank looked at Marco in high astonishment. "What on earth is the matter?" An outraged Marco was a rare sight indeed. "Yeah Marco, a simple thing like getting your coat off a hanger getting to be too much for you?" Chet grinned. "Somebody glued my turnout to the clothes hanger." Marco complained. "You know, I like a good joke as much as the next guy, but what if we were called out?" Hank frowned. "Kelly, what is the meaning of this? Marco needs that coat on duty. Dangerous pranks are downright stupid, ya twit!" Hank's voice rose, keeping pace with his irritation. He was proud of his troop, but sometimes he wondered if he was in the wrong business. Maybe, if he ever got tired of being a firefighter he could start his own Day-care center, or become the warden of an insane asylum. He certainly had the necessary experience after working with this bunch. "Oh my my; Marco old friend," Chet was unfazed and not in the slightest bit contrite, his mustache twitched in amusement, "your eyes must be getting bad. This is your old coat, you know, the one you tossed a couple of month ago cause it got singed? Your regular one is right here, see." With that he reached into the dark recesses of the closet, pulled out another turnout and held it up to his partner-on-hose. "See, says LOPEZ right there on the back." Chet laughed out loud, clearly enjoying himself. Marco was not amused; he clamped his lips together and snatched the coat from his partner's hands.  "Don't you ever take a break anymore Chet? Everyday it's something. Give us a breather, will ya?" Mike and Hank exchanged exasperated looks. The captain was loath to interfere, the men were, at least by law, adults, and firehouse pranks were par for the course. It probably started with the very first fireman. The jokes hadn't hurt anybody, but he was worried; it could be just a matter of time. He silently appealed to his engineer. Mike was a no nonsense guy, and a lot closer to the rest of his men than he, the cap, could be as their superior officer. He had full confidence in his second in command. Mike understood his captain's unspoken request, and nodded imperceptibly. At the same time a slightly uneasy feeling washed over him like a cold shiver on a hot and humid day. Swallowing, he forced the unpleasant sensation back. He suppressed a sigh. Kelly on a rampage was just about as stoppable as a boulder careening down a hillside. Oh well, he would watch out and try to keep a lid on things. "Come on Marco, I'll buy you a cup of coffee." Mike pulled his friend into the kitchen, stoically ignoring Marco's huffing and puffing. Cap turned, folded his long arms across his chest and fixed his eyes on the remaining fireman. "Kelly…" "I know, I know," Chet forestalled the threatening lecture and retreated toward the lockers. "I've got johns to scrub and floors to wash." Giving his captain quick, disarming smile, he marched on to his chores.  ### The squad rolled into the bay and was barely stopped, when Johnny jumped out in his usual energetic manner, slammed the door and took off in the direction of the kitchen. His partner followed at a much calmer pace. Not even quite trough the door, they were immediately briefed on the latest 'phantom' prank. "Take it easy guys, what's wrong with a few harmless jokes?" Chet took a sip of coffee. "Observe closely Chester B., you don't see anybody around here laughing, do you?" Johnny made a sweeping motion with his hand as he glared at the firefighter. "As a matter of fact, the only one having fun is you." "Aww, Gage, you've no sense of humor." Chet grinned at the paramedic. "The others think it's funny, don't you guys?" "Not really Chet." Mike started to open the cupboard, thought better of it and changed position. If anything came flying out, he was out of the line of fire. A sudden and fleeting insight about human paranoia flitted through his mind. All clear, he took a glass. "It's like we're all walking on eggs here lately. We never know what'll happen next." Mike leaned against the counter. "It makes relaxing pretty hard, you know." "Right!" Three voices made like a chorus, agreeing with their engineer. At the sight of his crewmates unity in critique, Chet felt a surge of an unknown, powerful anger. The strong, unexpected emotion halted his response, but only for a moment, before he gave into the feeling. His face formed into a scowl. "Oh, yeah? Well, I just got this to say…" Station 51, station 10, engine 26, accident involving train, intersection Morning Glory Avenue and Martin Street, Morning Glory Avenue and Martin Street, time out 10:11. The men raced to their vehicles with somber expressions on their faces. Accidents, though never good, took on a special meaning when it involved a train; it was usually ugly and deadly. The squad rushed out followed by the engine. Hank saved himself from being thrown out of the rig by quickly grabbing the door and pulling it shut. He gave Mike a dark look, but refrained from any comment. Pulling the microphone of its hook he acknowledged the call. "Station 51, KMG 365." 51's pulled up at the intersection. The sight of the twisted red sedan resting against the cargo train gave off a feeling of hopelessness. With heavy hearts the firemen exited their respective vehicles and readied the tools of their trade. Mike was just about to hook up the inch and a half, when he looked up and noticed a policeman's approach. Vince Howard came to a halt, took off his helmet, and nodded to his friends.  "Hi guys, hell of a way to meet up. Johnny, Roy, tend to the engineer and the guard of the train, one guy's in shock, the guard is hurt. I need the rest of you all to help extricate the victims from the sedan." Vince wiped his forehead; he looked slightly shocky himself.  Johnny opened his mouth. "No," almost as if reading Johnny's mind, the policeman stopped the paramedic before he could utter a word. "All three people in the car are fatalities, just take care of the train crew, okay." He watched as Johnny and Roy nodded, grabbed their gear and headed for the train, then turned back to the engine crew. Indicating the hose with a slight movement of his hands, he shook his head. "No need for that, guys. The gas tank is completely ripped apart, there's no gas anywhere around. A word of advice guys…" Vince took in a deep breath. "Brace yourselves, it's just about the ugliest I've seen in a long time. All three are teenagers, their car was pushed for about a mile before the train could finally stop." He stopped as he watched a black car pull up. "Okay, these are the crime scene investigators, you'll have to work with them on this." "How did it happen Vince?" Mike's voice was calm, but those who knew him heard the tiny edge in it, his eyes were troubled. "How did it happen?" Vince bit his lip and shook his head. "According to witnesses, the car went full speed ahead approaching the crossing on Meade and Morning Glory. As per their testimony, the car weaved around the barrier, never even hesitating." Vince's shoulders moved jerkily, as if to dislodge an uncomfortable weight. "Looks like they were playing chicken with a train." He sighed. "A train going 65 miles an hour. They lost."  He glanced at his friends, then settled his gaze on Hank. A look of deep understanding passed between the men, almost palpable to the others. Both men were fathers of teenagers. The fears and emotions the scene before them conjured up were almost identical. It frightened both men in a way, Hollywood horrorstory writers could never hope to induce into their audience. Vince brushed his eyes with his hand to dispel the heavy feeling in his chest and looked at his friends. Then he lowered his eyes and swallowed hard. The men gazed at the deadly scene and the sad story it held. It told of ageless cautions and warnings given to children by worried parents, only to be disregarded by youth with the firm belief in their own indestructibility. Vince shrugged in helpless resignation. With a last nod at his friends he ran back to the scene. Hank shook himself inwardly, forcing his mind to focus on the job at hand. He turned to his crew, ready to give his orders, and a feeling of satisfaction and pride made him smile. The engine crew had already retrieved their extrication tools and were ready. Hank nodded briefly and silently the men from station 51 headed for the job at hand. The sight that greeted them was the stuff nightmares were made of. It was hard to tell were the body parts left off and the car began. As one they buried their emotions deep inside them and locked them up tightly, as they efficiently and expertly applied themselves to the grim task, joined by 10's and 26's upon their arrival. Squad 10 was on a run and would arrive later. Chet worked on prying the window frame from the body of one of the victims, when suddenly the metal gave way with an eerie screech.  A horrified cry escaped the fireman's lips, the hairs on his neck and arms raised up. He jumped back as a head rolled down the freed body and landed at his feet, long blond hair fanned out over the pavement. Momentarily losing his composure at the horrific sight, he stumbled, but hands took hold of his shoulders, steadying him. He looked up, directly into Mike's pale, concerned face. "Easy buddy." Mike spoke in a low voice; it's timbre not betraying the shock he had received at the sudden and unexpected occurrence, his stomach muscles contracted as if touched by a live electric wire. "Go ahead and take a break, get yourself together, I'll take over for you."  "Thanks Mike." Chet inhaled deeply, gathering his resolve. His hands trembled slightly as his blood pressure slowly readjusted, the roaring noise in his ears subsided.  "I'll be all right, let's get this over with." Both men returned to the terrifying task at hand. ### Johnny and Roy had their hands full. The men on the train's engine were severely distraught, not even counting their injuries. The guard's head was bleeding from the impact with the instrument panel. He'd been thrown forward, when the engineer applied the breaks with a sudden and panicked force. As with all head injuries the blood flowed freely. His breathing was short and shallow. He complained about chest pains. Both men were extremely agitated. "I couldn't stop, I can't just stop like that, a train can't you know." The engineer was unhurt. In body that is, as for his mind… that was anybody's guess. He was ghostly white; his whole body shook. "I knew I was gonna hit them, a train can't swerve, I knew they were gonna die." The man drew in a quivering breath. "The girl… the girl in the back seat…she looked at me, looked me right in the face. She was so pretty…so young…so very young…. She looked at me with those scared eyes… then she screamed…I couldn't hear it, but I saw it…felt it…the train wouldn't stop, there was nothing I could do…nothing…I knew she was gonna be dead in a matter of seconds…oh God, why?" He started sobbing uncontrollably. Johnny swallowed and tried to shake off the mental image the engineer had conjured up with his gut-wrenching monologue. He was concerned; the man seemed to be going into shock. He took hold of the HT. "Cap, when is squad 10 due?" "They've been delayed John, they won't be here for another 10 minutes. No other squad is available." 'Great, what next?' Johnny rolled his eyes. "Okay, Cap could you send Mike over then? We need another hand here. Have him bring the oxygen from the engine." Mike was the next best choice in lieu of a real paramedic. He had proven himself over and over again on previous runs. He knew how to take vitals, administer oxygen, CPR, heck he was getting to be a pretty good pre-hospital diagnostician, but most of all he had a knack for keeping the victims calm. "All right Johnny, he'll be right there." Cap motioned to his second in command, pointing to the train. "Bring the oxygen." Mike nodded, grabbed the equipment, and ran to join the paramedics. He surveyed the scene and made a beeline for the engineer. Talking softly to the shocky man, Mike eased him down, raised the man's legs and deposited them on a toolbox. After covering the victim with a blanket, Mike readied the oxygen. He looked at the dark haired paramedic. "Non re-breather?" Johnny nodded, "yeah, and don't fill the reservoir, that'll treat the hyperventilation. Johnny smiled, relieved that there was one thing less for them to worry about. He returned his full attention to the guard, knowing that the train's engineer was in good hands. "Now, you need to keep still, so I can get your vitals, okay?" He fastened the BP cuff around the man's arm. "What's your name? I'm John; this is my partner Roy. We're gonna get in touch with a doctor right now and then we'll get you to a hospital." "My name's Gene, Gene Stager. Tony and me, we've been riding this rail for five years now." The man looked at Johnny with wounded eyes. "Nothing ever happened, nothing. What's the matter with kids today? Why did they do that, why?" Johnny patted the man's shoulder, hiding his concern with the expertise of the outstanding paramedic that he was. He did not like the man's vital readings. "I don't know Gene, may I call you Gene?" At the man's nod he continued. "The witnesses told the cops, that the kids tried to outrun you, there was nothing either of you could've done." His light, smooth voice had the same effect as a quiet brook, calming the man down a little. Johnny smiled at the stricken guard and looked to his partner. "Roy, pulse is 110, BP is 150 over 100, respiration is 24 and shallow, he's cool and clammy." Roy acknowledged his partner's information. "Rampart base, this is squad 51." Already alerted to the train accident by dispatch the doctors were waiting at the base station for the paramedic's report, hoping against hope that maybe, just maybe, the wreck would not be as tragic as their experience knew it would be. "Go ahead 51, this is Rampart." Kel Brackett glanced at Joe and Dixie. "Rampart, we have two victims of a car/train collision. We have three code F's from the car, the survivors are from the train. Victim one is 40 years old, approximately 190 pounds." Roy relayed the victim's condition to Brackett. "Victim two is 45 years old" Roy looked at Mike. "Pulse is 120, BP is 150 over 100, respiration is 28 and rapid." Roy repeated Mike's words to Dr. Brackett. "Squad 51 on victim one, send a strip, D5W TKO, normal saline. Victim two, normal saline. Transport as soon as possible." Kel looked resigned, Joe's shoulder's hunched forward in defeat. Dixie blinked, her heart cramped in sorrow. The dead kids' families would be ripped to pieces in a matter of hours, damn this job. "Ten four, Rampart, that'll be lead two." Roy replaced the receiver and turned to Johnny. Together they complied with Rampart's request, while Mike talked to the engineer in a smooth and calm voice. Everybody looked up when the ambulance attendants entered the train. "Hi, Johnny, Roy." The attendant nodded at the paramedics then spotted Mike. "Hi Mike." The white-clad men assisted the paramedics and the fire fighter in loading the victims onto the gurneys and into the ambulance. "Pretty bad, hu Mike?" The attendant turned to the fireman and motioned to the train. "Bad doesn't even begin to describe it Malcolm, not even close."  Mike seemed calm, but Malcolm noticed the distress in the fireman's eyes. "What a waste man, what a stupid waste" The ambulance man turned and walked to the passenger side, still shaking his head. Johnny handed Roy the equipment, closed the doors and slapped the window twice, indicating to the driver, that everything was ready to go. The paramedic turned to Mike as the ambulance pulled out. "Thanks Mike, 'preciate it." Mike nodded. "No problem Johnny. Are they gonna be okay?" "Yeah, they probably gonna need some psychiatric care though, helluva thing to see three kids die." Mike couldn't agree more. After a short wave to Johnny, he rushed back to the scene, ready to do his part, while the paramedic jogged to the squad pulling the HT out of his coat. The HT in Hank's pocket crackled to life. "Cap, Roy and I are going to Rampart with the engineer and the guard. The engineer is physically unhurt, but he's in deep shock and very agitated. The guard took a fall and cracked his head, he's also complaining of chest pains. We want to make sure his heart's all right. Unless you need us, we'll see you back at the station." "Ten four John. We don't need you with the extrication, 10's and 26's are here, we've got plenty of manpower, see you at the station." Hank replaced the HT and returned to work, trying to ignore the headache that loomed at the edge of his brain like a caged tiger, ready to spring at the first opportune moment. ### Johnny and Roy exited the treatment room and headed for the nurses' station, their steps weary and their mood somber.  Johnny headed for the coffee maker and poured them both a cup. "Roy, did you ever do anything like this when you were a teenager? I mean something so dangerous?" Roy sighed and leaned against the counter, gazing into the black liquid. "I did a lot of things I'm not exactly proud of today, but nothing like this." His mind wandered to his own kids and a shiver ran up his spine. "I keep thinking about Chris and Jamie…. The parents of these kids… man, I wish I could spare them the heartache that they'll carry around for the rest of their lives. To lose a child is bad enough, but to lose one in such a senseless and unnecessary way…" He let the sentence trail off. He could not bear to dwell on it any longer, it would drive him nuts. Johnny joined his partner at the counter. "I had it pretty tough growing up. Did a lot of stupid things, you know." He lowered his head and stared at the floor. "Sometimes it's hard to make the right choices and only by the grace of God do we make it." Breathing in audibly, he shoved his hand into his pocket. "I was teetering on the brink of disaster once and if…." He lifted his head and stared into space. His face looked young and vulnerable, long buried pain shone out of his dark, expressive eyes. Roy looked up sharply. Johnny was his best friend, but he knew little about the young man's past. It was something his partner kept tightly locked up, only now and again did he allow Roy glimpses into this well guarded part of his life. He clapped his hand on Johnny's shoulder. He would neither poke nor pry, when Johnny was ready, he'd be there for him. He thought about his station mates. He was blessed to have such great men to work with and such a wonderful family to come home to. He could depend on his crewmates in all aspects of the job and his life, they knew each other so well, that they could communicate without words. Two of his friends however, rarely ever talked about their life before joining the fire and rescue force, they shut down and veered off whenever the topic turned to the past. One was Johnny, the other was Mike. Approaching footsteps snapped Roy out of his reverie. Dixie was walking toward the station, a frown marring her beautiful face. "Well, the guard is going to be okay, we'll keep him for obs overnight." She brushed a hand over tired eyes; she was on the tail end of a double shift. "Kel called Dr. Kater from psychiatry, she'll have a prelim with the engineer. He's in bad shape." Dixie shook her head; she could not even imagine the dark tunnel the man would have to go through before emerging again into the world, forever changed. Smiling at Johnny, she accepted the coffee he held out to her. The three friends stood together in comforting silence. ### The engine backed into the bay, taking its rightful place next to the squad. The exhausted and sad firemen climbed off Big Red and headed for the showers. They needed to wash the stench of death off, even though all the cleansing and scrubbing in the world couldn't possibly erase the pictures off their minds. They would stay with them for a long time to come. Afterwards the clean and slightly revived engine crew met up with their paramedics in the day room. Roy and Johnny had coffee and soup ready for their friends. Nobody had much of an appetite, despite the delicious aroma of the soup. "We picked it up at the deli on Northern." Roy smiled at his crewmates. "They got the best chicken soup in California." Roy's soft voice and even demeanor had a soothing effect. The grateful men gathered around the table, the scraping of the chairs the only sound to be heard. They knew they needed to relax and unwind before the memories of the rescue ate them up. Johnny and Roy doled out soup and coffee, nobody broke the silence. Hank watched his crew with an eagle eye, searching for signs of battle fatigue. He clearly remembered Dr. Morton's little speech about the ill effects of too much adrenaline and high emotions. So far, he only saw the usual signs of sadness and nervous fatigue. "Men, after lunch I have to wrestle with some paperwork. If you need me, you know where to find me, okay?" He looked at each man in turn and saw in their eyes, that they understood what he'd meant to say. Admitting emotions to a group of men was out of the question in this macho-driven environment, even in the enlightened 70's. After lunch a fast and furious game of hoops took care of most of the nervous energy of the crew. Hank on the other hand disappeared into his office, reluctantly focusing his attention on the waiting paper work. After what seemed to be hours of ploughing trough endless memos and mind numbing red tape, Hank took a well-deserved break and wandered into the kitchen, hands in his pockets. Shaking his head to clear his mind he poured a cup of coffee. With a sigh he leaned against the counter, sipping the reviving liquid. 'I swear, if I have to look at another piece of paper, I'll run screaming into the night'. Hank closed his eyes, trying to relax his tense shoulders. He leaned his head against the kitchen cabinet, savoring the aroma of the fresh brewed coffee. The sound of voices and footsteps made him groan lightly.  His pleasant solitude was about to be over, his crew didn't believe in peace and quiet. The earlier horrific call was definitely still preying on their minds; it certainly was on his. Plus, Chet, a.k.a. the Phantom seemed to be on the warpath today, judging from the irritated glances the rest of his men kept leveling at the fireman. Hank cocked an eyebrow. Maybe he could… naah; he might as well try to put a cork into a vulcano. He straightened and awaited the onslaught of his firemen. "…and then I just took her hand and said…" Johnny's story was rudely interrupted. "Yeah, yeah Gage, we know you had to take her hand, otherwise she would've run like a scared gazelle." Chet grinned at the paramedic. He couldn't wait for Johnny's response to the jab. The stocky Irishman could hardly ever resist in baiting Johnny. The paramedic was just too easy; it was like shooting fish in a barrel. Cap was off limits, Mike was too dangerous, the engineer's responses were swift and ingenious; Roy and Marco's reactions were just plain boring, all they ever did was look exasperated and shake their heads. That left Johnny, who once again rose to the bait. "I have you know Kelly, that Mirelle was very impressed by my choice of restaurant, she said so herself." Johnny shot Chet a dark look, knowing there was more to come.  Johnny usually enjoyed the friendly banter, but every once in a while Chet crossed the line and things got ugly. "I'll bet. How much did you spend on dinner? A whopping ten bucks? I agree that that's an improvement, but hardly enough to impress a girl like her." Chet sniggered. "Now if I had taken her out, I would've…" "Well, that's the key word Chet, isn't it?" Johnny grinned.  "IF you taken her out!" His grin widened at Chet's souring expression. "Whatsamatter, did you ask her and she turned you down?" "Gage, don't get your head into the clouds. Just because I rarely have the opportunity to meet the new nurses, doesn't mean I can't get a date." The fireman's mustache twitched. "As a matter of fact, I might ask Mirelle, it should be a welcome change after suffering through a date with you." The increasingly familiar anger again rose in Chet, his words came out sharper than he'd intended. Mike, Marco and Roy looked at each other; Cap rolled his eyes heavenward. "All right, all right." Hank moved to the table and sat down.  "Not that I don't enjoy this captivating conversation, but would all of you mind if I change the subject to department business?" The men fell silent and grouped around their captain. Hank nodded; satisfied that he had his crew's attention. "I've just received a memo from HQ. They received a notice from the Water and Wastewater Department of the county. They've discovered a serious weakness in the pipes servicing us and the buildings on either side of our station. Their crew inspected the supply lines and determined that the whole piping system has to be repaired." "So that's why the water pressure has been so quirky." Mike nodded in understanding. Hank turned to Mike. "Right." Leaning back in his chair, he continued his narrative. "We're going to have some problems because of this." He looked around at his men. "They have to shut off the water for sometimes a considerable length of time. As you can imagine…" A snort interrupted his speech. Looking up, he saw Johnny's smirk. "Anything you wish to share with the rest of us pal?" His look darkened. "No, not particularly." Johnny shifted in his chair and tried to get his facial expression under control. "Out with it man, so we can get on with this." Caps voice lowered and held a hint of impatience. "Well, I just think it's funny." Johnny defended himself. "A firehouse without water, we'll never live that down in a hundred years." His crewmates grinned; even Hank had to smile, in spite of himself.  "All right, can we get back to the subject at hand?" Not waiting for a reply, Cap continued. "There'll be a considerable disturbance along with losing water. The crews have to bring in heavy equipment and dig the pipes up around the affected area. Expect a lot of noise and a lot of people." "So, how long will this be going on?" Roy asked. "I mean, from the sound of it, it'll take quite some time, right?" Cap nodded. "They're talking three to four month until they're completely finished." Holding out his hand to silence any protest, he took up his briefing again. "I know, I know, major inconvenience, but it has to be done. Better now than later, when the pipes collapse and cause a really big headache." He sighed, one more tidbit to add, then he was done. "They'll work around the sides and the back first, but they also have to dig up the pipes under the street out front. They'll reroute traffic, but they'll make sure, that the engine and the squad have room to get out and about." He looked at Mike and Roy. "You guys will have to maneuver the vehicles around obstacles and trenches, be ready." Mike leaned forward. He was confident, that he could steer the rig around anything that dared to get in his way. He did however have one concern. "That's not gonna be a problem in the daytime, but what about nights? I mean, I can't avoid, what I don't see." Roy nodded in agreement. "Oh that's just great Mike." Chet could not resist an opening like that; at last, a clear shot at Mike. "That's a fine time to let us know that you are incompetent, you've been fooling us for years, is that it?" He shook his head in mock disgust. "An engineer who can't drive at night. And to think how often I took my life into my hands getting into Big Red with you during the years we've worked together… it could damage my psyche." "Your psyche was damaged when your nurse dropped you on your head, chump." Marco jumped angrily to his best friend's defense. "Mike can drive the rig in a hurricane, down a mountain side, at night during a black out." The normally easygoing Marco was getting really fed up with Chet's antics. Chet held up his hands. "Hey, no need to get so huffy, can't a man make a joke every once in a while?" "What man and what joke?" Johnny piped up. 'What's the matter with Chet lately? His practical jokes are coming fast and furious and his comments are getting positively insulting'. The dark haired man looked at the fireman with narrowed eyes. Mike frowned. 'What's the matter with the guy lately?' His thoughts mirrored Johnny's. The fireman seemed hell bent on annoying everybody around him. He knew that Chet sometimes spoke up without thinking things through, but for the last week or so, the man seemed to go out of his way to rile everybody up. The engineer doubted that his crewmate meant to be disrespectful or insulting, but he wasn't so sure anymore. He was torn. On the one hand he didn't want the usual Chet out-of-line comment to disrupt the meeting any further, but on the other hand, he outranked the firefighter. Mike needed everyone's respect and trust should it become necessary for him to take over for his captain. It was imperative in their line of work, where hesitation or doubt could become deadly in a hurry. Looking around the table, he saw all eyes on the stocky fireman, with varying degrees of disapproval. Coming to a decision; he straightened up in his chair, his blue eyes on Chet. Hank opened his mouth to chastise Chet, but a small movement on his right claimed his attention. He turned to look at his second in command. Deciding to let his engineer handle it, he sat back, watching. The Irishman realized that he had gone too far. He looked at Mike, making a move that was half shrug and half hunching forward. "Mike, I was just kidding. I know you are the best engineer in the county, I'm sorry." Mike nailed Chet with a cool and somber stare. "Some things should not be joked about Chet. Implying, that I can't do my job is not a good thing to do." Mike's eyes never left his friends face. "I am perfectly capable of discharging my duties. ALL duties, including taking charge of the rig and anything else if need be." "I know that Mike." Chet swallowed and continued. "I wouldn't hesitate for a minute to follow your lead, and you know it." The fireman looked down, then lifted his head and looked at Mike. "What more can I say than that I'm sorry? You know me, you should by now, I didn't mean anything by that." Mike nodded slowly, never releasing Chet from his stare. "Okay, enough said about this, let's get on with the meeting." The tension eased; Mike handled the situation admirably. Hank nodded in satisfaction. 'Well done Mike, well done.' Cap cleared his throat. "The work crew will place large reflectors around obstacles that can't be removed at the end of the day. Steel plates will cover large holes and trenches, there's nothing to worry about." He placed his palms on the table and pushed his lanky frame up. "That's all for now, I've kept you long enough from your work." He gave his crew a pointed look. Interpreting the look correctly, his men rose and left the kitchen. "Mike." Hank stopped his engineer, as he was about to return to his engine. Mike turned around. Cap grinned. "Not bad pal, not bad at all." "Thanks Cap." Mike grinned back and headed out the door. #### The afternoon passed without a major call out. The squad returned from a call to a severe bee sting reaction, the patient was at Rampart, receiving antihistamine. "So Roy," Johnny closed the passenger door and walked over to his partner. "What's for dinner?" The dark haired paramedic was hoping that his friend was not about to spring another new recipe at them. He was hungry and wanted Roy to cook something proven to be edible. "I've got this recipe…" Roy was interrupted by a barely suppressed groan coming from Johnny's direction. "What?" The blond man shot his partner a surprised look. "A new recipe?" Mike walked over from the engine's hose bed. Like Johnny, he had a few misgivings about Roy's tendency to turn his friends into guinea pigs. Understanding dawned in the paramedic's eyes. He shot Mike and Johnny a hurt look. "Now wait just a minute, my cooking isn't that bad. Besides most of my dishes come out all right. I seem to remember a certain dish that everybody griped about, but you all gobbled it up in the end. The name Beef Bourginionne ring a bell?"  Roy turned sharply and disappeared into the kitchen.  Mike and Johnny exchanged amused looks. "I better go and smooth things over." Johnny grinned at his friend. "If he's too upset, we'll pay for it later." "Good thinking." Mike grinned back. "I've got a few more things to do, I'll join you later and give you a hand." Johnny chortled and walked through the door, while Mike returned to the engine. Chet strode out of the locker room. He finished cleaning the latrine and was on his way to the dorm. He spotted Mike and dropped his head. The real Chet Kelly was a decent, caring man and very fond of his friends, but he was also a prankster. He felt the dark anger rise again. 'Why am I feeling so bad about this? Look at him, he's tall, handsome, has tons of dates with the prettiest women and everybody likes and respects him. What has he to complain about? Damn it, he should know how to take a joke'. The anger abated as suddenly as it sprung up. Maybe he did step over the line this time. Mike claimed that the issue was dead, but he still felt uncomfortable. He took a short step toward the engine, but unsure of what to say, turned right and headed into the dorm instead. Mike saw Chet and observed his movements. He bit his lip. Deciding, that it was time to clear the air completely, he jumped of the engine and followed his friend into the dorm. He walked in as Chet was stripping the beds. The fireman looked up from his chore and away with a guilty expression when he saw who entered the room. Mike was searching for words to break the tension. Speeches never came easy for the tall man; growing up, he'd learned that silence was indeed golden, and more importantly, painless. He grabbed the duffel bag; moving beside the fireman, he held it open. Silently they moved from bunk to bunk, with Chet stripping the linens and depositing them into the duffel bag. When they were done, Mike deposited the bag in front of the door. "Mike…" Chet looked at his friend. "I really am sorry, you know that I didn't mean to imply…" Mike interrupted. "I know that Chet. When I said that the issue was over and done with, I meant it." He grinned. "I'd help you with the bunks, but I promised Johnny to give him a hand with Roy. I guess we hurt his feelings when we were less than enthusiastic about a new recipe." Seeing Chet's face, Mike started to laugh. "You look like you just bit into something really disgusting." Still laughing, the engineer pushed through the door and disappeared. Chet smiled, Mike's laughter was infectious. A thought darkened his features. 'Roy? New recipe? Oh man, I hope Mike and Johnny can set him straight.' Sighing he grabbed a sheet and started fixing up the bunks. Mike walked into the bay and toward the kitchen. He sniffed and cast a suspicious look at the back lot. 'What on earth is that smell?'  Surmising it was the usual LA smog he shook his head. Shrugging he passed through the kitchen door and stopped as if he had walked into a wall. The smell came from the kitchen, more precisely from the stove area, where Roy was busily chopping and stirring. Steeling himself, he walked to the table and plopped into the chair next to Johnny.  He nudged the dark haired man with his elbow and shot him a questioning look. The paramedic turned to Mike, shrugged and shook his head. "Don't ask me man, I have no clue," Johnny whispered. "I heard that Johnny." Roy turned and fixed his friend and partner with a stern look. "I told you…"he interrupted his speech and fastened his glare on both men, "as a matter of fact I told both of you to knock it off. I'm tired of getting ragged about my cooking!" "Take it easy Roy, we didn't say anything about your cooking, nothing at all" Mike tried to smooth the ruffled feathers, but the paramedic was not quite convinced. "Yeah Roy, we were just wondering what you were fixing for dinner." Johnny's calm interjection had the desired effect. Their cook du jour relaxed and turned back to his chores. "Well, this recipe was in a magazine that Joanne brought home the other day…" Chet walked into the kitchen, sniffing loudly. "What IS this stench? Did something die in here? Man that's nasty!" "Chet!" Mike's warning was too late, Roy whirled around, anger written all over his face. "You know what? I've had it with you, with all of you. You don't like my food, fine, don't eat it, see if I care. Have sandwiches, order pizza, hell, chew on the table if you want. I'm outta here." The angry man threw a ten-dollar bill on the table, pushed by Chet and walked out the door in long, furious strides. He passed Hank and Marco in the apparatus bay, and ignoring both, disappeared into the dorm. Hank and Marco looked at each other in puzzled surprise and entered the kitchen. "What was that all about?" Hank's face was a question mark; his brows were furred together. Marco, just as shocked as Cap by Roy's uncharacteristic behavior, wore a quizzical expression. "What else? The Prince of Tact was at it again," growled Johnny. "He let loose with more of his wisdom and got the usual results." Mike could only shake his head at Chet's denseness. He'd told the fireman not five minutes ago, that Roy was trying out a new dish. Really, how hard was it to put two and two together. Hank turned and glared at Chet. "Good going Kelly. It takes a lot to make Roy this mad. Check the fridge for sandwich supplies and get them on the table, I'll see what I can do about the situation." Hank walked out of the kitchen in search for his paramedic. Maybe he could calm the troubled waters. He shook his head, the mumbled "ya twit," was barely audible, but heard by all nevertheless. Marco put his hands on his hips and gave Chet an exasperated glare. "Don't start with me Marco, how was I suppose to know that this stench was Roy's cooking!" The stocky fireman felt persecuted. 'It's always the same, no matter what I say, it's always wrong, damn it to hell! I've had enough of this.' Chet could feel his ire rise. With a scowl he turned to the refrigerator and started rummaging around, much more forceful than necessary. Mike frowned. The sensitive man felt uncomfortable, his finely honed radar for looming trouble kicked into gear. Hoping that Johnny and Marco would keep their counsel, he searched for words to dispel the cloud that had suddenly appeared. 'Damn, why is this so damn hard for me? Other people find words so easy to come by, can't it happen for me every once in a while?' "Take it easy Chet, Roy is just a little touchy where his cooking is concerned." 'Oh yeah, that was really smooth.' Mike thought sarcastically. 'What a great orator you are Stoker' Chet showed no reaction, other than shooting Mike a dark look. He continued to bang food onto the table, his mood worsening by the second. "Chet…" Johnny stopped as Chet turned and leaned over the table, fixing the paramedic with an angry stare. "You need to get your two cents worth in too Gage? Why not, its open season on Chet now, isn't it? Go ahead have your say, just don't expect me to stay and listen to it." The enraged man slammed the refrigerator shut. "Here's your sandwich crap, bon appetite." The fireman stalked out of the room, his fists buried in his pockets. "Phew." Marco sat down and leaned back in his chair. "What's biting him? It's his own fault that people get mad at him ever so often, he's got to learn to turn his brain on before flapping his tongue." Marco was genuinely fond of his partner, he trusted him with his life. It was just the kind of day where Chet managed to get on everybody's nerves and Marco had enough. "Maybe we should ease up on him a little." Try as he might, Mike could not shake the feeling of unease. "We did sorta gang up on him all day long. We've been working with Chet for years now, we all know how he is, he doesn't mean any harm." "We know that, but that doesn't give him the right to walk all over people." Johnny stood up and strode to the stove. Lifting the lids he took a peek at the contents of the pots. "Brussels sprouts and cauliflower, no wonder it smells so odd." Replacing the lid he turned to Mike. "You're too easy Mike, did you forget what he said to you earlier? That wasn't even remotely funny, hell, it was downright disrespectful." "Yeah Mike, we all like him, but some of the things he says and does are hurtful, even though he thinks they're funny." Marco leaned back in his chair. "He's been at it all day long. The only one who didn't get a taste of Chet's brand of humor is Cap, and with Chet's penchant for stepping over the line I won't be the least bit surprised if he manages to get Cap p-o'd by the end of the day too." Marco sat up and folded his arms on the table. He looked at his friend and shook his head. "Mike, your concern is admirable, but totally misplaced." Johnny, casually resting against the counter, nodded in agreement, but Mike was not convinced. He took a deep breath and straightened up in his chair. "Yeah, I know all that, but…" The appearance of Hank, with Roy in tow interrupted Mike in mid-sentence. "Well, I think we can put the sandwich supplies away, Roy has agreed to finish cooking dinner." Hank gave his crew a warning glare. "Come on guys, put the stuff back in the fridge and set the table, okay?" He sighed, satisfied at having peace restored, and took a seat. "Where's Chet?" He looked inquiringly at his engineer. Mike opened his mouth, but Johnny beat him to the answer. "He left in a huff, I guess he got his feelings hurt when we didn't laugh at his so called *jokes*."  He watched as Roy assembled the cooked vegetables into a baking dish, adding sausage, bacon and cheese. The dish started to show more promise, could be edible after all. He wisely refrained from making any comments though. "Maybe I should talk to him." Mike rose from his chair. "Maybe it would be better if we leave him alone for awhile, he was in a pretty bad mood." Marco wasn't ready for Chet, round six. He wanted some peace and quiet, at least until dinner. "Yeah leave him be, it might do him some good." Johnny chimed in. Mike resumed his seat, albeit against his better judgment. Dinner was a success, but somewhat strained. Chet would neither talk to, nor look at his crewmates. He barely touched his food and disappeared right after dinner. Mike helped Roy clear the table and went in search for Chet. He found him in the back lot, sitting against the shed. The fireman's head rested against the wall, his eyes were closed. Mike approached the silent figure, still unsure of what to say. Station 51, structure collapse, 353 Vanetter Road, cross street Marquart Avenue, 353 Vanetter Road, cross street Marquart Avenue, time out 17:50. As the men raced to their vehicles, Hank acknowledged the call, handed Roy the address and ran to the engine. Once again he had to do a quick balancing act as Mike pulled the engine out when he was barely up. Big Red followed the squad with sirens blaring. "We have to work on our timing pal." Hank fixed Mike with a dark expression. "I really don't want to find out how it feels to be dragged to a call." "Sorry cap." Mike sounded contrite, but the twinkle in his eyes belied his sincerity. "I thought you were faster." "Humph." Hank decided to forgo comment at this somewhat backhanded apology. He leaned back and guided Mike to the address on Vanetter Road. The old abandoned apartment building was partially collapsed; the right side was teetering precariously, threatening to cave in on itself at any given moment. Hank shook his head; the housing unit should've been torn down long ago. Well, at least this was a fairly easy call, all they had to do was keep civilians out of harms way until the city could send their workers to pull the structure completely down and clean up the mess. He pushed his helmet back on his head and headed for the engine. Headquarters needed to be advised of the situation. Out of the corner of his eye he sensed an approaching figure. He half turned and saw a man rushing up to him. Suddenly a bad feeling settled in his stomach. "Yer guys get the kid out yet?" The man stared at Hank, waiting for an answer. The bad feeling in the captain's stomach turned into a painful knot. He squared his shoulders and faced the civilian. "What kid?"  "There were a couple'a boys messin' around in the building. About twelve or thirteen theres' about, ya know." The man sped up his narrative, spurred on by Hank's impatient gaze. "Anyway, when the building came down, one kid came running out ye see, but I never seen the other one, I told yer guy on the phone when I called ya all, didn't they tell ya?" "Where did the kid come out and where is he now?" Hank was trying to get a clue on the victim's possible location. The man pointed to the right side, the one still standing, if only just for now. "He came flying outta there, I don't know where he is, he beat it outta here like a bat outta hell." Hank turned and sprinted to the engine. At the moment dispatch's' omission of mentioning a victim was unimportant, they could figure that out later. A human being was trapped in the dangerous structure, the first and foremost issue was to get the child out. "Mike, contact HQ, we have a possible victim in the building, get me another squad and an ambulance. Johnny, Roy, get your gear and search the right side. We're looking for a teenage boy. Be careful in there, the structure is on the brink of collapse. We're gonna be monitoring the situation from here." Hank watched as Marco and Chet helped the paramedics assemble their equipment. "If I order you out you better get the hell out immediately, understood?" Johnny nodded, already running to the building with Roy close at his heels. Entering the apartment house, they became aware of creaks and groans and the occasional clatter of material making contact with the ground. "Oh man, this is really bad." Johnny tried to orient himself. "Over there seems to be a stairway, I suggest we split up and each take a side to check the apartments." Signaling his agreement, Roy moved toward the hallway checking the right side, Johnny taking the left side.  They moved cautiously, the structure gave off the feeling that even a sneeze could start a disaster. "HELLO, IS ANYBODY HERE?" The building answered Johnny's shout with a groan and a shudder. The paramedic held his breath as a piece of ceiling plaster sailed by is face and plunked to the floor. Roy stood frozen to the ground; neither man dared to breathe. Nothing else happened; they resumed their search. "Help, help me." The muffled sound reached both men. They halted their steps and turned to the left. The voice came from the far end of the corridor, of that they were certain. Both men jumped as the HT came to life, it's volume amplified by their fear. Their captain's voice seemed to be bouncing off the walls. Johnny hastened to turn down the sound, he held no trust in the structures stability. "Engine 51 to HT 51, did you locate a victim?" Johnny pressed the button. "Engine 51 we heard something and are investigating now." A creak above his head made the paramedic look up. "The structure is about to come down, it seems to be held together by spit and wishful thinking. We'll advise you of our progress, keep your fingers crossed. HT 51 over and out." Although Johnny tried to keep his tone light his longtime friends and crewmates heard the worry and concern in his voice. Hank frowned, Mike bit his lip, Chet swallowed hard and Marco's hand went into his pocket seeking the comfort of his rosary. A worried Johnny was cause for concern. Was Johnny worried about himself? Not on your nelly. Their friend had charged into more dangerous situations than they cared to remember. He was prone to act instinctively in his efforts to protect those around him, and that knowledge made chills creep up his crewmates' spines. "Cap, chances are the boy is unable to move." Mike looked at Hank, his blue eyes dark with worry. "Right pal. Come on guys get the gear out, it'll save us some time later on."  The firemen went to do, as they were bid, glad of the momentary distraction. Roy and Johnny moved down the hall. As they went on, they checked the mostly door-less apartments for signs of life, finding none. Johnny stepped forward into another doorway and took a sharp breath in shocked surprise. Only Roy's quick reaction saved the dark haired man from plummeting into the dark depth. "That's an elevator shaft Johnny." Roy looked at his friend. "No kidding." Johnny exhaled and turned to his partner. "Thanks Roy." He took a closer look. The wall on the right was missing, giving a view of an apartment. A large part of the apartment's floor had collapsed "Living right next to an elevator, these guys must've had a lot of fun." He looked up sharply when he heard the voice again. "Roy!" "I heard it, it's coming from this apartment. Let's go partner." He halted his steps. "Johnny, we need to be real careful, a large part of the floor has already collapsed, can't be too stable." "Roy, the whole frigging building isn't too stable." Johnny moved cautiously into the apartment. Roy was right behind him. They spotted the boy right off. He was lying in the far right corner of what used to be a living room. A chunk of ceiling was lying on the lower half of the child; the adjacent wall threatened to fall right on top of him. If that should happen the boy would be crushed. The floor under the victim was sagging; a large crack ran from the boy to the large opening of the already collapsed floor, a distance of a mere ten feet. "Oh shit," the words came out in a sigh. "HT 51 to engine 51, we've located the victim." Johnny wiped his forehead. "HT 51 go ahead." Hank's voice came over the air. "Cap, the kid's trapped pretty good. We need your help getting him out. You also need to bring some bars or long pieces of strong wood; we need to shore up a wall. We're at the far end, left side underneath the stairs, right of the elevator shaft." "We're on our way John, engine 51 over and out." Hank turned to his men. "Let's go." He looked back at his crew. "Let's be real careful in there guys." Cautiously entering the building, the men looked around with concern. The inside looked so much worse than they had expected. Plaster dust floated everywhere; pieces of material fell intermittently. Silently they moved to the location indicated by Johnny. What greeted their eyes was mindbogling. Hank took in a sharp breath. The situation looked hopeless. If the wall didn't get the child, the floor would. Speed was of the essence. "Okay, let's do it. Mike, Marco shore up the wall, and for heavens sake stay away from the cracked side, work the other way around. Chet, you and I are gonna help Roy lift the ceiling piece, so John can slide the boy out. I want us all to get the hell out, as soon as we have the victim, is that clear?" Hank motioned to his men. Engine Company 51 went to their allotted tasks. With their combined strength, Hank, Chet and Roy lifted the piece of ceiling; Johnny quickly slid the boy out. Mike and Marco kept an eagle eye on the wall; it was buckling and creaking, giving them anxious moments. Hank, Roy, Johnny and Marco took hold of the child, and hurried to the door, the faster they got out, the better. Marco turned and saw Mike right behind him, followed by Chet. Satisfied, he turned back and jogged with his crew to the exit, with the child in a careful but fast grip.  Mike was almost at the apartment door when an ominous crack spun him around. He watched in horror as a piece of ceiling sideswiped Chet and catapulted him to the hole in the floor. "CHET!" Mike leapt back and frantically grabbed for his friend. He took hold of his crewmates legs, stopping his fall. Chet was hanging halfway in the gaping hole. "MIKE, I'M SLIPPING." The fireman could find no handhold; he was dangling helplessly over the dark pit. Mike pinned his friends legs with his body, his hands grappled for a hold, any hold. He had no leverage; he had to rely on his strength. His searching hands found Chet's belt and he pulled with all his might. He had some success, when suddenly the floorboards surrendered in their struggle with gravity and collapsed. Both men plunged into the abyss. The building could not withstand the sudden force; it started to tumble down and the men ran for safety, clutching the boy between them. Marco turned to shout a warning to Mike. Neither Mike nor Chet were anywhere in sight. The Latino man felt an ice cold hand twist his insides. "MIKE, CHET." Marco's panicked scream sliced into his friends' consciousness like a double-edged, razor sharp knife. The irresistible force to preserve life, ingrained in all fire fighters, made him turn around, ready to run back in. "MARCO!" The sharp, forceful command startled him to a halt. He recognized his captain's voice. A hand grabbed his sleeve and pulled him forward, in the direction of the door. They stumbled out of the apartment house and hit the dirt, protecting themselves and the victim from the falling debris. The shower of dirt and material seemed to go on forever. A mantra repeated itself over and over again in the minds of four horrified men. 'MIKE…CHET…MIKE…CHET…' The sounds of destruction finally ceased, the men looked up and wiped the dust out of their eyes, mouths and noses. They looked around and the sight made them cringe. The building was a mass of broken and jagged materials. Anxiety reared up and was quickly suppressed. They could not allow themselves any time to dwell on this. Somewhere in there were their friends and comrades, and they had to get to them, somehow, and fast. Johnny and Roy carried the injured child to the squad. The boy was conscious and in pain, they had to help him immediately. Hank followed them to the squad. "LA dispatch, this is engine 51. We need backup, the building has collapsed, I have two men trapped. I need a construction crew and another ambulance." He raised his eyes and looked at the sky. Darkness was fast approaching. "We also need a couple of light trucks." Hank's lips were numb. The knot in his stomach threatened to take over his whole body. 'God, please let them be alive, please.' The fact that the building had not pancaked, but fallen over like a mikado set gave him a sliver of hope. The weight of the building was not concentrated in one area, but distributed over a wide terrain outward, quite possibly leaving numerous pockets, especially in the basement.  He turned to his paramedics and knelt beside them. "I've requested another squad and an ambulance. When the squad gets here, turn over treatment and come back to the building, we need the best rescue men we've got, and you're it." Not waiting for a reply he stood and ran back to the building, wanting to be as close as possible to his lost men. The paramedics nodded and concentrated on the victim.  "Hi, my name is Johnny, this is my partner Roy. What's your name?" The dark haired man smiled at the child. "Brian, my name is Brian." Tears ran down the boy's face. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean…." Sobs wracked Brian's body. "Hey, take it easy kiddo. Are you hurt anywhere?" Johnny's even voice calmed the boy a little. The paramedics held no rancor toward the child. An abandoned building is like a magnet for children. The county should have torn the structure down a long time ago. "My legs hurt, and my back. I think I hit my head too." Brian's sobs did not subside. "The other firemen… did they get out?" The child turned pleading gray eyes to Johnny, begging for a positive reply. Oh how he wished he could answer in the affirmative. Johnny banished the frightening thoughts into the recesses of his mind and focused on the injured boy. "Not yet, but we'll get 'em." Johnny bent over Brian. "Your legs, back and head hurt? Can you move your legs?" The paramedic examined Brian for broken bones. "NO, no, I'm fine, go get them, please go get them." The child fought Johnny, pushing his hands away.  Roy, in the process of getting ready for treatment and establishing contact with Rampart, looked up at the sound of approaching sirens. He sighed with relief when he recognized squad 116 pulling up, just ahead of the ambulance. The child's increasing agitation worried him; they had to calm him down. "Hey, hey, calm down Brian." Johnny's soothing tone had some effect, but the child was still sobbing violently. "The other man, he said, that you were the best. You need to go and get the other firemen out, you've got to get 'em, go get 'em out, please." The child's begging and crying nearly broke Johnny's heart.  This was a good kid, horrified at what his innocent exploration had wrought.  He silently cursed the powers that be for letting the structure deteriorate to the point of become a danger. "Look Brian, there's the other squad. As soon as they get here, we'll go and help our friends, okay?" Seeing the child nodding in agreement, Johnny looked in the direction of the arriving squad. The paramedics from squad 116 came running. Craig Brice and Bob Bellingham knelt down beside the child. "Brian, these are Craig and Bob. They'll take real good care of you." Johnny locked eyes with Brice, daring the paramedic to challenge him for the use of his first name. To his immense surprise, all Brice did was nod and smile at the distraught child. "Hey there kiddo, we're gonna get in touch with some docs and get you to a hospital okay?" Bob Bellingham grinned at Brian. Looking back at Johnny, he asked in a low voice. "Who's in there?" "Mike and Chet." At Brian's answer all four paramedics looked at the child in ill-concealed astonishment. Brian heard one of his rescuers scream the names, they where now forever burned in his consciousness. My God, if they were hurt or… dead. His fault, all his fault, why did he listen to Kenny, why? Tears ran down his face, he looked at Johnny. Somehow a bond had formed between them, he trusted the paramedic. Unasked, heavy questions burned in the boy's eyes. Johnny swallowed and gave the boy a shaky smile. He understood the questions, but had no answers. "See ya later Brian, do what Craig and Bob tell you all right?" He started to rise, but sank back down. "Brian, it's not your fault, none of us, including Mike and Chet would ever think that." Johnny smiled and nodded at the child, rose and pulled his gloves on. "Gage," Brice reached up and adjusted his glasses. "Best of all luck…" He let the sentence trail, superstition ran deep in fire fighters. Say nothing out loud; the fates might hear you. Johnny understood perfectly. With a short nod at both paramedics he followed his partner. They would never abandon a victim, but Bellingham and Brice were very competent and 51's paramedics wanted to be close to their comrades. Fire fighters were just as fanatic about retrieving their wounded and dead as soldiers. No fire fighter would ever leave another behind, never, period, case closed. They rushed to the accident site to join their crewmates.  ### Mike came to with a start. A warm trickle ran down his cheek, he reached up, touched his forehead and winced. The fog cleared, his mind started operating again. 'Chet.' The fireman's eyes had not yet adjusted to the darkness, he was virtually blind. He felt around, trying to locate his friend. He heard a low moan and moved in the direction of the sound. His hands moved along the ground, searching through the rubble in a desperate attempt to find Chet. His eyes became more accustomed to the darkness; he could make out shadows. "CHET, CHET CAN YOU HEAR ME? WHERE ARE YOU?" There was no answer to his frantic shouts. Mike blinked and tried to focus. He made out a large bundle just ahead and crawled toward it. It was Chet. The stocky fireman was unconscious and his breathing was labored. Mike felt a rush of blood to his head; his friend was alive, thank God. Breathing in deeply he forced himself to calm down. He closed his eyes, trying to recall his numerous runs with Roy and Johnny. 'What would they do, please let me remember.' He took a deep breath. Gently, he turned Chet onto his back and straightened out the arms and legs of his friend, while checking for broken bones. The right humerus was broken, the other arm and the legs seemed okay. Mike's hands moved to the chest. He swallowed hard; the right side of his friend's chest gave way to easily. 'Broken ribs, oh God, what do I need to do?' His head started hurting; he tried to think, to remember. ' Damn you Stoker, think, think!' The engineer channeled his mind to the runs with the paramedics. 'Broken ribs…weight… what weight…? Sandbags, they use sandbags to stabilize the chest.'  His eyes, now accustomed to the low light, searched the rather large area. Their prison encompassed half of the living room above and the elevator shaft. Wood and other debris littered the floor. He noticed a heap of something close by Chet's feet. Still on his knees he went over to investigate. It turned out to be a plastic grocery bag, filled with old newspapers and magazines. He bent over and picked it up. Maybe that would do it. Clutching the bag he crawled back to his friend. Carefully he placed the weight on Chet's side to counter balance the broken bones. To his immense relief Chet's breathing eased, it worked. Mike bent down in an attempt to check the firefighter's ears and nose for fluids. Seeing nothing, he ran his fingers around the man's ears and nose. They came away wet and sticky, which meant absolutely nothing since Chet's whole face was covered in blood.  A wave of dizziness overcame Mike, and it made him angry, he needed to stay focused, Chet needed him. He tried to concentrate. Checking his coat his fingers found the small rag he always carried to keep the gages and other instruments clear. Pulling it out of his pocket he wiped Chet's face and eyes. He found the laceration that was responsible for all the bleeding. Such a small wound, how did that generate all this blood? His fingers were numb; he shook his hands to get the blood circulating. Straightening up he felt a breeze. Good, oxygen was coming in from somewhere, one less thing to worry about. Mike took a deep breath, ignoring the pain shooting through his body. He looked around for something, anything he could use to immobilize his friend's broken upper arm.  He found some pieces of wood among the rubble that were just the right size. Tearing the now bloody rag into pieces he reached for Chet's arm. Wait, should he remove the coat? No, he better leave it, moving the injured arm more than necessary couldn't be good. Carefully he fastened the makeshift splints, and sat back on his heels. The exertion exhausted him, every breath caused a searing pain in his chest, and his head was swimming. Sliding to the wall he sat down and leaned his head back, taking in deep measured breaths. He knew he had to try to wake his friend up, but he needed to rest, only for a moment. His whole body hurt, although he was sure he didn't break anything. He thought about the collapse and their plunge into darkness. It was a miracle that neither of them was trapped under the building's debris. For some unknown reason they'd been thrown clear, that was something to be grateful for. Mike closed his eyes and swallowed hard, trying to will away his aches and pains. 'Okay guys, time to come get us.' A low groan claimed his attention. He leaned sideways, looking at his friend.  "Chet, wake up." No reaction came from the prone figure, not even a twitch. "DAMN IT CHET, WAKE THE HELL UP!" 'Jeez, you have to calm down Stoker, whatsamatter with you?' Taking a deep breath to ease his rising agitation, he lightly slapped Chet's face. "Hey man, enough with the napping, come back here, now." Getting frustrated he redoubled his efforts. He was rewarded with another moan, then a cough. "Wwhha…?" Chet's eyelids fluttered, he tried to move, but ignoring his own pain, Mike scurried to his side and held him fast. "Easy buddy, don't move, you broke a couple a' things you know." A silent prayer followed his words. 'When he opens his eyes, please let me see Chet in there.' "Mike…?" Chet tried to focus his eyes. He recognized the voice and speech pattern of his engineer. He didn't hear the sigh of relief his crewmate released, along with the breath Mike didn't realized he'd held. ### The scene was crawling with people. Patrol units formed a blockade around the structure to keep the gawkers at bay. The four fire engines and two squads sparkled from the illumination given by the light trucks. An ambulance stood at the ready, waiting to become useful. The vehicles belonging to the construction crew were parked at odd angles, dominated by the backhoe. A large group of people swarmed over the building in a seemingly awkward, uncoordinated manner, but their purpose was clear. The construction crew was making slow and careful progress in clearing the debris, the floor was very unstable, nobody wanted to endanger the trapped men. A large group of fire fighters, working with the construction crew, were chomping at the bit to get to their comrades 51's captain straightened up and noticed the flashing lights of an approaching vehicle. Hank watched as the battalion chief's car pulled next to the engine. Proper protocol would dictate, that he walk over and join his chief, but he wasn't going to leave this spot, protocol be damned. Jumping off the rubble he glanced over his shoulder. Hank couldn't make out Johnny, Roy and Marco amidst all the other firemen, but he knew they were front and center of the action, just where he left them. Hank turned back to the approaching figure of his chief. "Hank." McConnikee extended his hand and patted 51's captain on the shoulder. Not a word was said about breach of protocol. McConnikee did not come out of the fire academy a battalion chief; he came up through the ranks. He'd been in Hank's situation before, more than once as a matter of fact, and he fully understood the man's reluctance to leave the scene. "What's the situation?" He scrutinized Hank. The captain looked gaunt and worried. Streaks of dirt and sweat covered his face; his dark hair was gray with plaster dust. "We're halfway through, we believe my men never made it out of the apartment. We're trying to clear the way to the elevator shaft." Hank wiped his hand over tired eyes. "We have to be slow and careful, the basement is still largely intact, but it's not very stable." The chief nodded. "We can set up a command post right here, just tell me what you need, and I'll…" A sudden shout spun both men around. The men working in the broken building scattered as a large beam teetered and finally fell. It missed several men and the backhoe by mere inches, crashed into the basement, ripping a large hole into the floor. Hank and the chief sprinted to the site. "What's going on? How did this happen?" Hank glared at the construction crew chief, accusation inflected in his voice. "The beam seemed stable, we were goin' to move around it with the backhoe. We didn't realize, that it was cracked through at the base, it's kinda hard to see you know." The crew chief nervously wiped his forehead with a bandanna and turned back to the structure. "Cliff, get over to the south side, I want everything that's still standing inspected thoroughly, use flashlights, make sure the rubble can be removed safely." With a curt nod at the captain and the chief he ran back into the building. Hank opened his mouth, but a rapidly approaching fire fighter wiped all thoughts of reprimand out of his mind. The fireman stopped in front of the captain, Hank recognized Marco. "Cap," Marco, out of breath, stopped and inhaled deeply. "We're getting close to the elevator shaft, Johnny's sure about that. He says he recognizes parts of the stairwell to the upper floor." Marco wiped his face, displacing and rearranging his own dirt and sweat. "Problem is, the debris is heavy in that area, and we can't bring the heavy equipment in because of the floor." Hank briefly closed his eyes, nothing was ever easy. "We have to do what we can, we have to go at it slowly and carefully, remove the dirt by the cupful if necessary." He watched as Marco frowned, but remained silent. He knew full well what the fireman was thinking, hell, he was thinking the same thing. Having to work this way would take a long time, time his lost men might not have. Putting his hand over his eyes, he banished the thought into the netherworld of his mind, it was useless, they had work to do. ### Chet tried to squirm out from under Mike's iron grip. He regretted it almost immediately. The pain shooting through his body almost made him pass out again. He gasped, his muscles went rigid. He heard Mike's voice, but if was muffled, as if the engineer was speaking through cotton. A wave of dizziness washed over him and made him gag. Mike tensed up, when he saw Chet gag, he knew that he had to turn his friend sideways, so he wouldn't choke on his own vomit. He didn't know what to do; he dare not risk displacing the bag that kept Chet's chest stabilized. Breathing in deeply to calm himself, Mike realized he had no choice. The choking was the greater danger right now; he had to do something. He reached out and halted. With a deep relief he saw that Chet had stopped gagging and was breathing more evenly. He decided to take action before it happened again. Stripping off his coat and shirt, he removed his undershirt and put the rest of his clothes back on. Mike sat next to his friend and ripped the shirt into long pieces with the aid of some broken metal he'd found during the exploration of their prison. The sharp tool slipped in his grasp several times, cutting his numb and cold fingers. Mike doggedly ignored the stinging pain; his main focus was to get the makeshift ties in place before Chet gagged again. His fingers kept slipping in his own blood, but after what seemed to be an eternity, the undershirt was in long strips. He wiped his bleeding fingers on his coat and turned to the injured man. "Chet, I'm sorry, this is gonna hurt, but I have to put this around you to tie the bag up at least a little." Mike smiled apologetically at his friend and bend over the prone man. As gently as he could he maneuvered the strips of cotton under the injured man's back, Chet's gasps and groans cut into his heart like a knife and a lump formed in his throat. Grinding his teeth he forced himself to keep on going. Finally he had the strips in position; he tied them off at the chest. With a sigh Mike sat back down. He was unsure if he'd done the right thing, hell he wasn't sure about anything. He only knew that he had to keep Chet alive, he simply had to. The brief thought of losing his friend shook him to the core, his breath caught in his throat. No, that couldn't happen, oh Lord, please don't let that happen. A whisper claimed his attention; he briefly closed his eyes to gather strength, turned to Chet and smiled. "Mike," Chet's voice sounded raspy and forced. "What happened to me? The last thing I remember is dinner." Mike's hands trembled as he cast his mind back to dinner. How cool and distant they'd behaved toward Chet, him included. Bile rose in his throat, he swallowed it with difficulty. Now he wished he'd followed his instincts and talked to his friend. Why were they all so blind and numb to the obvious? Something must've happened to make Chet behave like he did, but they all chose to turn a blind eye and wallow in self-pity. He'd known it in his guts that something was off kilter and he'd let Chet down, never bothered to be a friend, a real friend. A wave of self-disgust washed over him and he put his head in his hands to regain his composure. 'A fine captain I'll be, I'll have my men in psychiatric care in no time.' Pulling himself together he looked at Chet. "We were called to a structure collapse and ended up having to pull a child out. The building was unstable, the floor collapsed and the both of us ended up in the basement." He gave Chet a quick smile and picked up his narrative. "You got hurt, your right arm is broken, so are a couple'a ribs if I'm right. I can hear sounds from above, they're trying to get to us, so just lay still Chet, I don't think I can handle any more emergencies. I'm an engineer, not a paramedic." He winked at his friend and grinned, although he felt more like crying. "You could've fooled me." Chet's breath came in uneven strokes. "The way you bandaged me up…I could've sworn Johnny or Roy were somewhere around." The fireman tried to smile, but it was no more than a grimace. "My side hurts like hell, my head too." Chet tried to lift his uninjured arm to touch his face. Mike's hand was quicker; he caught the raised arm and held it. "Don't do that, you've got a cut on your head." Gently, Mike lowered the arm and inspected his friend's head. "The bleeding stopped, but you need to lay still, I don't know if you have a concussion, but I really wouldn't like it if I had to turn you over so you can puke. Your chest is not in great shape you know." "I resent that, you can ask all my dates, my chest is in wonderful shape, or so I'm told." Chet grinned mischievously at his friend. Mike, momentarily taken aback, grinned back. "Oh well, you're not as bad off as I thought, you can still make bad jokes." A loud, crashing noise spun him around. Plaster and concrete started raining down on them; he hurriedly turned back and bend over Chet, trying to protect his injured friend from the falling debris as best as he could. A large piece of concrete crashed into his shoulder, making him cry out in pain, but he never moved away from Chet. At last the sounds of destruction ceased. Mike moved back and tried to move his shoulder. It hurt like all bloody hell, but it didn't feel broken. A sound from Chet claimed his attention. "Are you okay?" "What are they doing, trying to blast us out of here?" Chet coughed violently and immediately stiffened up in pain. "Man, that hurts." He took a ragged breath and fell silent. Mike was alarmed. "Chet, Chet, are you still with me, can you hear me?" Fear gripped him, took him in a stranglehold and wouldn't let go. "Yeah…I'm still here…Mike it hurts so bad…so bad." The last word came out in a sob. Mike's heart constricted, he would like nothing better than to be able to take at least part of the pain from his friend, but he was helpless, condemned to sit around and wait. Wait and watch. "Mmmike…" It was barely a whisper. Mike leaned forward and placed a gentle hand on his friend's shoulder. "Don't talk Chet, save your strength. I don't know how long it'll take them to get to us, you need to…" "No, I need to tell you something." It took effort from the wounded man to get the words out. "I need to tell you…" "Please, for heavens sake, please stop talking." Mike was getting frantic. He was afraid; the situation had deteriorated in a hurry. Chet needed help, he needed it fast. "Mike I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to be so nasty…." He drew a harsh breath and ignoring his friends panicked gestures he went on. "Tell… tell the others… I'm sorry." "The hell I will, you'll tell them yourself, do you hear me." Mike was unaware that he was shouting at his friend.  Terror rose in his soul, he, the always calm, stoic and quiet man was on the verge of losing his cool. Struggling to keep his poise, he wiped his had over his eyes. How the hell did this go downhill so fast? One minute Chet was hurt, but in good spirits, the next he took a sharp turn downward. Mike ran a hand over Chet's chest and abdomen. A hot painful cramp flashed from his stomach to his chest when he saw the trickle of blood seep out of the corner of his friend's mouth. The cough… o hell, it must've done something, torn something inside. No, no, oh God, no. Gently, Mike moved Chet's head sideways, to prevent the blood from running into the hurt man's throat. He flinched when he felt a tuck at his sleeve. "Mike…I…I'm…. gonna… die here." Chet had trouble breathing. "You… have to promise me…promise me… to tell…tell the others…you have to Mike." "You're NOT going to die here!" His eyes stung, a painful wave of sorrow and regret enveloped him. Mike bit his lip to steady his emotions. "Chet, please stop talking. I'll promise you anything, but be quiet, please." Mike didn't know how he managed to keep his voice calm and his tone even, but he was grateful for any small favors. Taking Chet's hand into his, he gave it a gentle squeeze. He felt his friend respond and took comfort in that. Lifting his eyes, he looked into his Chet's face. "Chet my friend, they're coming to get us, just hang on, just a little while longer." A sudden fear threatened to choke his words off, he had to  swallow hard to keep on an even keel. Under no circumstances could he allow Chet to be drawn into his own anxiety. "Fffriend…. That sounds…nice…" A small smile, a sad ghost of the former mischievous grin, played over the injured man's mouth. "I… know you don't… mean…it, but it sssounds…great." A tear slid over Chet's nose and onto the dirty floor. If Chet had suddenly and unexpectedly slapped him, he couldn't have been any more shocked than now. What the hell did that mean? Chet couldn't possibly think that he was anything less than a friend to him, to all of them. They didn't give him any reason to think that…. Mike drew up short, his mind was racing. Memories from the day flooded his consciousness, trying to overwhelm him. He shook his head and turned to his stricken comrade. "What are you talking about? Of course I mean it. We are all friends, you are one of us, now and always, and you know it." Mike's nerves were getting raw, the effort to stay stoic was hurting his head now, a stinging, persistent pain, unshakable and bright white. He had to keep Chet quiet, every word, even the tiniest move took too much life-force out of him, and Mike was helpless to stop it. "Chet, you need to be quiet, for heavens sake shut up and lie still, they're getting closer, I can hear it." The last was a boldfaced lie, but Mike felt justified. If it kept Chet from exertion, he'd have no regrets. "I don't know why you think you're not our friend, but I tell you, you're wrong. You couldn't be any more wrong if you tried. You are a big part of us, and we need you." The sad smile appeared again, the dark blue eyes of the Irishman fastened on Mike. "Nno, I don't… fit in…" A shaky, rattling breath was followed by a sigh. "Always on… the…the outside… looking in… never a…a… pppart…" Chet's hand clasped the other's tighter. "Heard you… laughed…about… laughed at… tttrouble…maker, loud…loud-mouth." Mike's head was spinning. What had they done? Chet was right, when was the last time they'd included him in any outing? The spontaneous get-togethers almost always excluded Chet, like the one at Roy's house two weeks ago. They'd all been there, not one of them thought to call and invite Chet. Why didn't they call, it would've been so easy. A sudden flash of memory seared red hot through his brain. They were all in the locker room that Monday, all except Chet, who'd been late. They were talking about the day before, laughing and kidding around. Someone…who was it?…had brought up Chet's name and said that at least they'd been safe from you know who, and could enjoy themselves. Could Chet have overheard that? Was that what he meant by 'heard you'? Possible, that would certainly explain his behavior ever since. Now it all made sense. Mike groaned, what a stupid thing to happen. "Chet listen, Marco and I ran into Roy and Joanne at the wharf. Roy needed help loading a huge armoire into his station wagon and we lent a hand. Joanne invited us to lunch as a reward and when we got there Johnny was just pulling in. Cap came by to borrow Roy's lawnmower and stayed for lunch. That was it, just a few beers and sandwiches, and then we all split. What you overheard was just a joke, we meant the phantom, we were just kidding."  Mike's voice started shaking, the steady resolve crumbled. "Chet, please believe me, you are our friend, stay with me, you have to." Chet gazed at Mike, his eyes started dulling over and a tortured sigh escaped his lips. He gave Mike's hand a last squeeze and lapsed into unconsciousness. Mike was up and bent over Chet in a flash. The fireman's chest rose and fell in short and ragged intervals. With trembling fingers, Mike felt for the carotid to check his friend's pulse, it was slow but steady. Sliding even closer to his friend, Mike called his name over and over, getting no response. The stinging sensation in his eyes gave way to bitter and self-recriminating tears. Long forgotten prayers flitted through his mind and out of his mouth in heartfelt pleading. Never had he been so lonely. ### "CAP, CAP!" Johnny's shout brought all activity to a sudden halt. Every eye was on the dark haired man. "Cap, this is it, it's the elevator shaft, we made it through." Breathless, he gestured to the opening. "Just a little more, and we can get in. Cap, I want to go in first, I'm skinny enough to fit through a small hole, okay Cap?" Johnny's eyes locked with his captain's, never wavering, showing Johnny's resolve and determination. Seeing Hank's curt nod, he turned around, seeking Roy. Marco, knowing exactly what was on Johnny's mind answered the searching look. "Roy went to the squad, to get your gear." Taking a step closer he peered past Johnny. "How long do you think it'll take?"  He wiped his forehead in a nervous and abrupt motion. Johnny understood completely. He was aware of Marco's anxiety, he'd feel the same way if Roy were trapped and his condition unknown. Mike and Marco were best friends, Marco's mother referred to Mike as her 'other' son. A fleeting thought rushed through his mind. Mike never talked about his real family, at least he didn't remember that he ever did. 'Just like me'. "Not too much longer Marco." He said out loud, pointing to the outer edge of the shaft. "We need to get a little closer, then we can try to talk to them, see where they are."  Unspoken fears and thoughts hung in the air like lead. ### Suddenly aware of the noise, Mike looked up. He crawled forward; just a little, he'd not leave Chet out of his sight. Concentrating, he listened closely. Yes, a steady, scraping noise. His heart jumped to his throat. Could it be? Please God, let it be them, Chet needed help so badly. A loud creak cut through his thoughts. Scurrying back to Chet to protect his friend, he saw debris fall just ahead of them. A sudden shaft of light appeared, sending him forward again. Blinking, he looked up despite the swirling dust and right into a ray of light. The pain it caused was utterly and thoroughly welcome, because what he saw was a flashlight. Help was so close now, just a little more time, a little more, please God. "MIKE, CHET, WHERE ARE YOU? CAN YOU HEAR ME?" "JOHNNY, WE'RE HERE." His voice was dull and raspy, it sounded foreign to his own ears. "Hurry up, Chet's hurt badly, he needs help right now." Mike rushed back to his friend, checking pulse and breathing. The pulse had slowed down even more, the breathing was just as unsteady and labored as before. "Hang on Chet, help's on the way, hang on buddy."  "Mike, come over here. We're lowering the oxygen, take it and get started on Chet." His battered body had stiffened up and the pain was constant now, but Johnny's words spurred Mike on. He grabbed hold of the oxygen and untied the rope. Back at Chet's side in no time, he fastened the mask and started a low flow of the life-giving oxygen. Looking over, he saw Johnny rappelling down on a rope. As he watched, more things appeared. The trauma box, the bio-phone, the splint-box and blankets filled his field of vision as if by magic. Ignoring his own pain and fatigue, he jumped up, ready to help Johnny in any way possible. "Nice of you to drop in, what kept you?" Mike flashed a quick tired smile at Johnny. "Is that a way to welcome a friend?" Johnny grinned as he was kneeling beside Chet. His breath caught, when he saw the injuries the fire fighter had sustained. With a satisfied nod he took in Mike's makeshift first aid. "Good job Mike, that was good thinking." He started to work on Chet's chest, replacing the bag with sandbags, then he went on to the broken arm. "Mike, increase the oxygen, I'll call Rampart, they need to okay the IV's Chet needs. You also need to get the board and the stokes, they should be able to lower them anytime now." Without further ado, Johnny took the bio-phone and started contact with the hospital. "Rampart, this is squad 51, come in please." Waiting no longer, Mike hurried to the opening. "Hey, can you lower the stokes and the back-board yet?" "Mike, are you okay?" Marco couldn't hold back, he had to know. "Yeah Marco, but Chet's in trouble. He needs help yesterday, can you guys hurry it up?" "We're working as fast as we dare, pal. The damn thing is still very unstable, and we want you out, not under." Hank was just as anxious as Mike, but he had to keep cool for all their sakes. "Give us a minute, we're sending the board down now, the stokes'll come in a sec." Johnny's voice droned on in the background as the blood rushed to Mike's head and made him dizzy. He reached out for a hold to steady his shaky legs, drew a deep breath and looked up again. The backboard came into view, he grabbed it, slid the rope off and rushed to Johnny and Chet. Together they gently and very carefully slid the board under their friend. Johnny had established the IV's, now all they could do was wait. For Mike every second was pure torture. Chet's words echoed through his mind over and over again, ever increasing the guilty feeling, until he was sick to his stomach. Every bone in his body hurt, his shoulder stiffened up more with every passing second. Finally he heard his captain's voice. "Here come the stokes, be careful guys, tell us when you're ready." Cap's voice was tinged with worry. After getting the stokes, Mike and Johnny lifted Chet in, tied him fast and together they readied him for the lift. They watched as the stokes moved upward and disappeared through the opening. "Can you go up in a belt?" Johnny cast a worried eye over Mike. He didn't like his pallor, Mike's whole demeanor spoke of injury and fatigue. "No problem, just get me outta here buddy." Mike forced a smile, which didn't fool Johnny for a minute. Getting the gear and strapping on the belts, they alighted into the world again. "Mike!" Marco's relief was palpable. He took hold of his friend's arm and led him off the rubble onto safe ground. Chet was by the squad, being readied for the ambulance by Johnny and Roy. Hank was kneeling by their side. At the sight of his engineer's approach, Hank rushed to his side. Together with Marco he led the wobbly man to the ambulance. "Mike, don't ever do that again. You cost me ten years of my life."  Hank looked terrible, dirty and gaunt, his voice trembled slightly, the awful night had taken its toll. "How's Chet holding up?" Mike was not to be deterred, Chet was first and foremost on his mind. "He's hanging in there, get into the ambulance, so they can take off. We meet you at Rampart." Hank gave Mike a gentle push. Mike was not to be moved. He had a death grip on the ambulance door for support; his other hand was clutching Marco's arm. He'd wait for Chet, just try and move him. Watching the stretcher coming toward him, he drew a shaky breath. Suddenly everything went black. ### At first everything was out of focus, like a badly adjusted film. Closing his eyes again he tried to figure out his whereabouts. He tried to lift his arm, but a hand prevented him from doing so. Somebody was talking, who was that? Johnny, it was Johnny, but what was he saying? Mike tried to concentrate, but his head was hurting as if stuck in a vise. The memory blockage his brain had built up suddenly broke and the events of the day flooded in like thundering waters, almost drowning him. His stomach convulsed, he heaved violently. As he was turned sideways, his abused body screamed in pain. He heaved a few more times, but nothing happened. He was turned back in a smooth motion and a cool hand touched his forehead. When he opened his eyes this time, the world was back in focus. He looked at Johnny, and Johnny understood his unasked question. "He's alive, his breathing's better, he's holding steady." Johnny moistened his lips. He'd been so scared the last couple of hours; relief now made him lightheaded. "If it weren't for you, he'd be dead now. That was some fast thinking Mike, good job."  Johnny frowned when he heard the mumbled 'yeah right'. He didn't expect his friend to jump for joy, but he also didn't expect this, even for Mike, subdued reaction. "Mike…." "I'm all right," came the raspy reply. Turning his head sideways, Mike looked at Chet, lying motionless on the other stretcher. The guilt he felt was so heavy, it was eating his soul. How could he ever make it up to his friend? He squeezed his eyes shut. He would try to be a better friend, Chet deserved that much. The rest of the hurried ride went in silence; the siren was the only sound. Mike felt Johnny's worried glances, but he was not ready for any explanations yet. The flurry of activity that greeted them at Rampart made him dizzy again. Mike caught a glimpse of Dixie and Kel as they rushed away with Chet. Joe breezed by him, tossing out a quick 'hello Mike' and was gone. Johnny went with them after giving him a brief squeeze on the arm. A nurse, who looked vaguely familiar took charge of him and pushed him into a treatment room. The quiet was like a soothing hand; he breathed a sigh of relief. Closing his eyes in concentration, he tried to sit up. A loud voice froze his movements. "What the hell do you think you're doing fireman?" Dr. Mike Morton could not believe his eyes. Here was a fireman who'd plunged into a basement and been trapped for hours with a critically injured comrade and now, five minutes into his stay at the hospital, tried to get up. "One more move, and I'll strap you down, do you hear?"  Shaking his head he motioned to the nurse and with their combined effort the two of them managed to undress the unwilling man. Brazenly ignoring the mumbled protests, Morton started to examine Mike. Mike had enough. "Doc, stop it. I'm okay, just a few bumps and bruises. All I need is a little rest and some aspirin, stop making a federal case out of me." Mike was annoyed. Really, all this fuss. He didn't like fuss, especially over him, just leave him alone everybody. "Uhn huh," Morton was not about to give into the demands of a fireman. They and Cops were the worst patients he could think off. With the exception maybe of Doctors. "Turn sideways Stoker, I want to see your back." Ignoring a new wave of protest, he, with the aid of the nurse, swiftly turned Mike onto his side. Morton let out a surprised whistle. "You have a bruise the size of Texas on your shoulder and smaller bruises all over your upper back. You must've landed on that part of your anatomy, fireman." He turned briefly when the door to the exam room opened to admit Roy. After a short nod at the paramedic, Morton returned his attentions to Mike, who was not all to pleased about that. "All right, I want x-rays, check the lungs, he inhaled a lot of dust, pay special attention to the back and that shoulder…" A hand on his arm stopped the flow of words. "Doc, how's Chet?" Mike needed to know; it showed plainly through his eyes. He turned his eyes to Roy, asking the question that needn't be asked out loud. Roy shrugged slightly. He didn't see anybody around when he walked in. All he knew was that Chet was in OR four, and that he was holding steady for now. "Let's worry about you right now Stoker." Morton shook his head again. Give him the choice between a fireman and a cage full of excited monkeys, and he'd pick the monkeys anytime. He opened his mouth to finish his instructions and was again rudely interrupted. "Doc, I need to know how Chet is, and I'm not going anywhere until you find out." Mike was determined, his jaw was squarely set and his eyes shone in a stubborn light. Morton heaved a deep and exasperated sigh. Damn it to hell. "Okay Stoker I make you a deal. I find out about Kelly and you go with the nurse, nice and quietly. When you get back, I let you know what I found out, all right?" The door opened again and two orderlies approached the gurney. Morton made a waving motion with his hands and Mike was on his way to x-ray. Patiently he endured the poking and prodding, the turning and the cold touch of the machine. These people were going on his nerves. He was all right damn it, he wanted to go home to his nice comfortable bed. Finally! It was about time! They seemed to be done with him; he was wheeled back into the treatment room. Roy was still there. Mike tried to sit up, but Roy put a stop to that. "Hold it Mike." Roy grinned at his friend. "You can't do that yet, wait for Morton and the x-rays okay?" "You're worse than these people here in the hospital Roy. How often do I have to tell everybody that I'm fine." Mike glared at the paramedic, who showed no sign of remorse. "Oh hell…" "Mike, you had a rough evening, just lay still, come on old friend, humor me." Roy smiled at his engineer, hoping Mike would yield and take it easy. "I know it's…" The opening of the door stopped him in mid-sentence. Morton strode to the gurney and looked at Mike and Roy. "Chet Kelly is doing well under the circumstances. They found the bleeder and sutured it; they re-inflated the lung and the broken ribs are taped. The arm is set. He seems to have a slight concussion. He lost a lot of blood; his system endured a lot of stress. He'll be in ICU for 24 hours, so they can monitor his progress, after that, if all goes well, he'll be moved to a room. If you are a good boy, we'll put you in a room together, so behave Stoker." Morton folded his arms across his chest and glared at Mike, certain that there were going to be repercussions. He was not to be disappointed. "ROOM, what room?" Mike was livid. "I don't need a room here, I have several at home, and that's where I'm going." Mike made a move as if to rise out of the gurney. Roy grinned as he stepped toward Mike. He could have foretold that reaction, he expected nothing different. Firemen were notorious for their dislike of hospital 'vacations' and Mike was no exception. Morton was through playing. He leaned forward and stared Mike right in the eyes. "You are going to stay here a while, whether you like it or not, do you hear? Your shoulder is badly sprained, so are quite a few ribs. Your right lung sounds like it's boiling oatmeal, we don't want any pneumonia now do we?" He held up his hand to ward off any protest. "Tell me Stoker, is being slightly demented a prerequisite to becoming a fireman? Huh Roy, tell me, is it?" Morton straightened up and looked from one to the other, nodding when he received no answer from either man. He was proud of himself, he shut up two firemen, what a feat, Superman, move over. "DeSoto, the rest of your gang is in the lounge. They all look like they could use a good nights sleep, but I'm sure they're not gonna budge until they've seen Mike and Chet." He shot Roy a grim smile and went on. "Mike is going to be moved to room 205, you can go there in about fifteen minutes. As for Chet, you'll have to ask Brackett, but I'm sure you can manage to talk him into seeing your friend for a few minutes." With a curd nod he exited the room. ### Mike tried to find a comfortable spot, but gave up after a few minutes. He waited for the painkillers to kick in and sighed in defeat. He wanted to be home, he had no use for hospitals. His body hurt, and the shots he had received didn't help him any. Jeez, what a bunch of medication they pumped into him. Tetanus, antibiotics, pain relievers, just to name a few. The opening of the door interrupted Mike's self-pity orgy. His crewmates trooped in and surrounded his bed. The relief was evident on all their faces, they had their friends back and if things went right they'd be back at work with them in a little while. Then they would be whole again. "Mama sends her prayers Mike." Marco grinned from ear to ear. "She gave me holy hell for letting you out of my sight, she wants you to come to our house after they let you out, and she wont take no for an answer."  He patted Mike on the arm. "You guys gave us some pretty bad moments there, see that it don't happen again. By the way, Mama, Consuela and Rosa are planning to come over here tomorrow. Be prepared."  Mike grinned back. The prospect of seeing Marco's family was not at all disconcerting. Only Marco knew that they were the only real family Mike ever had. "Well that's good news. Turning to his captain, he went on. "I hate hospitals! They wake you up to give you a sleeping pill, and then they wake you up to see if it worked. They give you painkillers, and then poke and prod, to see if they were strong enough…" "Hold it pal." Hank raised his hands in protest. "Cool it with the John imitation and stop your ranting, it'll not get you outta here any earlier." He sighed, the strain of the last hours was catching up with him, he was indescribably tired. "We're going to see Chet now, we'll be back tomorrow." "Okay, I'm going with you." Mike moved to climb out of his bed, but Roy was there in a flash and held him down. "Knock it off Mike." Roy shook his head, why were these people so stubborn? He conveniently forgot his own hospital stays, and his own stubbornness on these occasions.  "You need to lie still and rest, the easier you take it, the faster you're outta here. You took some heavy hits, your lung is congested, keep your butt in bed, let the meds do their work." "Whatsamatter Roy, you taking lessons from Morton and Dixie now?" Mike shot Roy a dirty look, but obeyed nevertheless. He wasn't going to get out of here; he might as well give up. The paramedic laughed, thank God they had them back, he wouldn't want to lose either of them. How dull life would've been. "Johnny is with Chet, he'll come down when we get there. Take it easy now or I'll sic Dixie on you, and believe me, she's way worse than Morton." With a last grin the three men left the room. After what seemed to be only a moment Johnny stuck his head through the door. "How's it going, oh mighty engineer?" Johnny walked up to Mike, grinning his trademark grin. "Chet's doing fine, he's got the constitution of a horse." He gripped the bed-rail and smiled down at his friend. "Are you sure you didn't take the paramedic training? That was some fancy footwork you did, Chet probably wouldn't have made it if it wasn't for you." Johnny hadn't forgotten Mike's odd behavior in the ambulance, he was curious. "What happened down there?" Mike raised his eyes and gave Johnny a long hard look. He debated with himself. Should he tell his friend? He was well aware, that Johnny, just like him, avoided talk about the past. Mike sighed; maybe it was time to put it to rest. "Chet thought he was dying, and he told me to apologize to all of you for his behavior. He told me he felt left out, that we're laughing about him, don't want him around us." Mike's voice quivered at the memory of the awful time in the basement. "He overheard us talking about the lunch we had at Roy's, and thought we left him out on purpose, because we don't like him around. He thinks, we just think of him as a loudmouth and a troublemaker." To his shock and horror, he felt tears well up in his eyes, and he brushed them away with an impatient hand, men don't cry. "I knew something was outta whack, and I didn't follow through, me of all people should've known better." Closing his eyes he took a deep breath. "I've made a good friend feel like he was unwanted and disliked, I'm a heel." He pounded his fist onto the mattress. "That's why he acted up, I guess he felt that we don't like him anyways, so what's the difference." Stunned and speechless, Johnny gripped the rail for support. He quickly recovered his voice. "Oh crap, of all the stupid things to happen." Drawing a deep breath he continued. "But we were just kidding around, how could he…" Johnny was a very emotional man, his feelings ran deep, his caring nature immediately embraced the guilt that was welling up in him. Suddenly something Mike said caught his attention. "Why did you say that, 'you off all people should've known'?"  He watched as Mike played with his blanket. His friend avoided his eyes and cleared his throat. "Nevermind Mike, I've no right to ask that. After all, we're in the same boat as far as talking about the past goes, I'm sorry." Squeezing his eyes shut, Mike swallowed hard. "It's all right, it's time to let it out. It's nothing special, thousands of kids go through the same thing every day." Mike turned to Johnny, who flinched when he saw the sorrow in the engineer's eyes. "My dad left when I was two years old, and my mom couldn't cope. She started drinking and inviting men over, I guess she couldn't stand the loneliness. She was still very young, you know." Mike drew a breath. "Anyway, that's when I learned to shut up. If I got in the way, I got knocked around, so the quieter I was, the easier life was." Mike's hands started to tremble; he avoided Johnny's eyes as he picked up his narrative. "A neighbor must've said something to Social Services, because I was made a ward of the state. By then I was eight years old, too old to be adopted. I was shuffled around from foster home to foster home, never staying long, never belonging. Most of the time my silence was perceived as obstinacy, after a while nobody even tried to talk to me. I didn't know any better, hell I was only a child. When I was sixteen, my high school took a field trip to a fire station. I watched the men, their obvious camaraderie, their closeness, and I wanted nothing more than to join them. After I graduated, I did." Mike wiped his hands over his eyes, surprised at the wetness he encountered. "Now you know the story of my life, pitiful ain't it?" Pulling a chair over, Johnny sat down heavily. He didn't know what was more stunning. Mike's long speech, or the story he told. "Shit…." The whispered word was barely audible, but Mike heard it. Johnny put his face in his hands, when he looked up again, resolve shone out of his dark eyes. He would share with Mike, just as he shared with him. His friend was right, time to let it out into the open. "Well, my life wasn't exactly sugar and roses either. At first it wasn't bad, we lived on my father's reservation. We never had much, but my parents loved me, I didn't miss anything." He looked at Mike, who was listening with rapt attention. "My mother was white, so I always stood out, the old half-breed thing you know. But my parents tried to protect me, and I was happy in their company." Johnny shook his head and smiled at the memory. "A drunk driver put an end to that. In a matter of seconds I lost both parents." Grief crept into Johnny's voice. "My mother's people took me with them, but they had no love for the 'Indian'. They'd been dead set against her marrying a 'redskin' as my grandfather so delicately put it." Johnny flashed Mike a sad and rueful smile. "Talk about Cinderella, I can certainly sympathize with her. I was pushed around mercilessly, always reminded of my, as they put it, 'inferior' blood. Skinny and wiry, I was no match for the local bullies of all ages, so I started to rely on my mouth." Johnny lowered his head, the pain from the past was rising up, he fought for composure. "When I was around seventeen, I fell in with a local gang. Oh, they had their fun with the Indian boy, but they seemed to accept me. Finally I belonged somewhere. One night they decided to break into the schoolhouse, they were after the office stuff, you know. I was to be the lookout, so I stood in front of the building watching for cops. I thought I was gonna die when I felt a hand on my shoulder. The fire chief saw me and knew I was up to no good. He yanked me away and dragged me to the firehouse. I thought my goose was cooked. The cops were called, but he insisted, that I'd been with him the entire time." Johnny swallowed, before starting again. "He lied for me, I was totally stunned. Nobody ever gave a rats ass for me before, this was something new." He smiled at the memory. "Turns out, he was a good friend of my mothers, the only one who didn't condemn her for marrying my father. From that day on, I was more at the firehouse than at home. I couldn't imagine becoming anything else than a firefighter, and here I am." Johnny and Mike looked at each other in new and shared understanding. Always good friends in the past, they now shared a deep emotional bond. Misery did indeed like company. "We'll set Chet straight, don't worry about it." Johnny's crooked grin was back in full force. "He's gonna be in your room, we get to work on him right away. You go rest now Mike, I'll be back in the morning." He reached out and Mike placed his hand into his for a shake to seal the 'getting Chet back into the fold' promise. Deep blue eyes met dark brown one's; together they would make it right again. For the first time since crashing into the basement a genuine smile crossed Mike's face, he relaxed; the hospital stay didn't seem so god- awful anymore. He waved as his friend went out the door; suddenly he was very tired. In the corridor, Johnny leaned against the wall for a moment. He felt inexplicably better; he was glad he talked to Mike. Imagine that, he and Mike had something in common, who knew. With a lighter step he walked to the elevator, ready to join Roy in the squad for the ride to the station. ### He knew it was early, dawn was only just approaching. He squinted at the clock on the wall. 5am, and were the heck was he? Trying to clear his head he rubbed his eyes. Oh yeah, he was at Rampart. Chet… how was he doing? Mike tried to sit up and his breath caught in surprise. His whole body was one giant source of pain. As Morton promised, he was sore all over. Breathing was an effort, his chest was tight and it hurt. He in- and exhaled slowly, then he tried the sitting up thing again. Only much slower and way more careful. He was determined to go and see Chet, just try and stop him. Groaning in pain, he lowered his long legs to the floor. He paused to collect himself and tried to stand up. His knees buckled, he reached out for support. Telephone and lamp flew of the bedside table as his hand grappled for a hold. The noise startled Mike; he plopped back on his bed, his legs unable to carry him. The door flew open, he jerked his head around and grunted at the pain this caused. "Mike Stoker, what on earth are you doing?" Dixie stared at the scene in wonderment. Really, you couldn't leave these firemen out of your sight for a minute. "Get back into bed, are you trying to buy more time in the hospital?" Mike opened his mouth to protest, but Dixie was having none of that. "I'll get Dr. Morton, would you like me to do that?" Dixie's grim smile convinced Mike, that obedience was the better course of action and he did as he was told. He could take Morton, but to spar with Dixie, he would have to be drunk first. "I was just…" "Quiet." Dixie stepped to Mike's side and adjusted the blankets. "I know what you where 'just' gonna do, and you're not doing it." The beautiful face relaxed and she smiled at the fireman. "Chet is doing fine, if he keeps up the pace, he'll be here day after tomorrow." She winked at Mike, amused at his stupefied expression. "How…" "I can read you and your pals like a book, so don't try anything, hear." She retrieved the phone and lamp and put them back were they belonged. "Mike, be reasonable, your body endured massive trauma, give it a chance to recuperate. We don't keep you here because we don't like you, on the contrary, we want you well and as good as new." Dixie reached up and gently brushed the hair off Mike's forehead.  "You know, there's somebody else here who could use a friend right now, his name is Brian." "Whose name is Brian?" Mike's curiosity was aroused. "The boy who was trapped in the building, that's who." She put her hand on Mike's arm at his startled movement. "He is wrapped up in guilt, it's hindering his convalescence. The child is convinced that he's at fault, that he got you both hurt. Brian is sure that you both hate him now, the poor boy is inconsolable." "What?" Mike was shocked. "If anybody was at fault, it was the damn county. That building should never've been left in that condition, they should've torn it down long ago. Kids are curious, show me a kid that can stay away from an abandoned building."  His ire rose. "Who told the boy that it was his fault? How could they? Man, that's cruel." He looked at Dixie in righteous indignation. "Nobody told him that, he thought that up all by himself." Dixie grinned, she expected this reaction, she knew Mike too well. "He kept asking about Mike and Chet," Dixie nodded at Mike's questioning look. "He told me he heard Marco scream your names, he also told me he'll never forget them. He's a nice boy, a good kid. We had to sedate him, he never calmed down." "Well, did somebody tell him that we're out and alive?" "No, he was sleeping by then, we didn't want him to wake up yet, he needs his rest too." "Oh hell…." Mike made another move and Dixie quickly held him. "No you don't. I promise, as soon as Brian wakes up, I'll let him know. I'm not gonna tell you again, stay in bed or else." Dixie frowned down at Mike with grim determination. He'd get out of bed over her dead body. "All right already, I'll be good." Mike was exasperated; he wasn't a child goddammit, why did they insist on treating him as one. "Dix, do you have a pen and paper?" Dixie rummaged in her pockets and produced both. Handing them to Mike, she bent over to see what he was up to. A smile crossed her face. He was writing a note to Brian, promising a visit, assuring the boy that neither he nor Chet were angry and that the accident was not his fault. "Here, give this to the boy when he wakes up, make sure he gets it right away." Mike's eyes bored into Dixie's, impressing the urgency of the errand. Seeing her face, he relaxed again. Dixie would see to it, that the boy would see this the moment he opened his eyes. "Okay, that out of the way, let's get medical…." Dixie stopped short as Mike moved aside and patted the bed. A devilish light shone out of his eyes. "Good idea, hop in. You wanna play doctor?" Mike grinned and winked at the speechless nurse. She couldn't help herself, the urge was overwhelming, and Dixie busted up laughing. "I see that you're on the road to health Mike," she was still giggling. "Seriously, how are you feeling, can you breathe better? Are you in a lot of pain?" "My chest is tight and hurts a little, other than that, it's bearable." Mike kept his tone light, unaware that there was no way he could fool her. "Ah ha, in other words, breathing hurts like hell and you're sore all over." She looked Mike straight in the eyes, daring him to contradict her. He rolled his eyes, why did he even try. This woman was downright scary. She grinned as she pulled the sheets up to his chest. She would never let on how frightened and nervous she was the entire time her friends were trapped and nobody knew if they were even alive. She felt a strong kinmanship to these dedicated men. Their chosen profession was to give aid and comfort to the needy as was hers. It was less a profession than a calling, she could not imagine doing anything else with her life. Seeing Mike drift off to sleep, she quietly left the room. ### The following day passed in a blur. His body took over and forced his mind to comply with its demands. Mike was sleeping most of the time, waking up occasionally eat something or talk with his visitors. He barely opened an eye when Morton examined him and only asked how Chet was doing and when he could leave this lousy party. The answering noise Morton made was not altogether flattering. It was close to noon the next day when he opened his eyes again. This time there was no disorientation, he knew exactly where he was. Remembering the ordeal he endured the first time, he tried to sit up again, but he did it very carefully and slowly. To his surprise, the pain was not as pronounced, it was still there, all over him, but duller, more bearable. His chest was still tight, but breathing didn't hurt quite as much. As far as he was concerned, he was good enough to go. He looked up sharply when the door was pushed open with vigor, and Kel Brackett strode to his bedside. Great, another one who'd tell him to take it easy and lie still. Sighing in resignation he sank back down. Kel smiled, he knew what Mike was thinking. "Morning Mike. I hear you gave Morton and Dixie fits. Let's see how you are today." He took his patients vitals and listened to his chest. With a satisfied nod he looked at Mike. "Not bad, you've got a great constitution. Keep it up, and you'll be home in no time."  Mike opened his mouth, but Kel was faster. "No, I don't know exactly when, I'm not going to let you out until your lungs are completely clear, be patient, will you." Carefully sitting down on the edge of the bed he folded his arms and cocked an eyebrow. "That was some handiwork you did on Chet. How did you know what to do?" "I watched Johnny and Roy often enough in the years we've worked together." Mike closed his eyes briefly. "I still wasn't sure if I done the right thing, I only knew I had to do something. Doc, how's Chet?" "He's doing fine, so good in fact, we're moving him here later in the afternoon. He's come to a couple'times, and he's asking for you guys. He'll be here after the afternoon rounds." Kel rose and patted Mike on the shoulder. "Your friends are in the lounge. They've already seen Chet, they are now waiting for you to wake up." He turned, thought of something and turned back. "By the way, there's a v