Once Jinxed

Part 2

Chapter Seven

When it was time for A Shift to assemble once more, everyone filtering into the station seemed refreshed and well-rested. Each man took a quick evaluation of the next: Mike was looking at Marco, thinking the bump on his head from a couple of days ago now looked like an oversized pimple that hadn't come to a head. Roy was looking at Cap, noting the little bandage that covered the wound from the days before, barely showing hints of slight bruising beneath it. And Johnny was staring at Chet. To him, the man had lost his mind. Or been drugged. He looked normal - too normal, and John Gage just knew it was too good to be true.

"How's your hand there, Chet?" he asked nonchalantly.

Chet raised his palm, showing it to the younger paramedic. "Nicely wrapped and ready for duty, sir!" Chet mocked as he hefted his hand to his forehead, promptly saluting Johnny.

A few chuckles were raised and then Captain Stanley cleared his throat, signaling to all that roll call was ready to start.

Once the assignments were handed out, the men started getting their chores done. There were several other things that needed attending to, from cleaning out the engine lined with mud thanks to a last minute run C shift had earlier that morning, to hanging hose. Everyone was eager to be done with the work and get it out of the way.

Roy and Johnny were making up the bunks in the dorm when the younger of the duo spotted Marco heading towards the mop closet. Quickly, he went out into the bay and snatched the fireman by the arm, practically dragging him in behind him.

"Hey, what's the meaning of this? You trying to kidnap me or something?" Marco joked.

"Shhh!"

"Johnny," Roy said, his voice lowered to humor the man, "what are you doing?"

John's eyes glared over to Roy before returning his gaze to the fireman. "Okay Marco, give. Just what did you say to Chet to make him suddenly not think he was a jinx anymore?"

Marco's eyebrows raised a notch as a grin spread wide across his face. He looked at Roy, who rolled his eyes at Johnny's latest whim, then looked back at his inquisitor.

"Well you see, Chet was really believing that he was going to have to either transfer out or quit because he was jeopardizing everyone's safety by being this sort of jinx."

"I told you, Roy!" John hissed, then motioned for Marco to continue.

"He said he was cursed. So I just simply explained to him that when someone is jinxed, it's over and done with after the third victim falls under the curse. You know - bad luck happens in threes? If he's going to believe in these things, I figured it'd be better to explain them properly. Since the Captain was the third person hurt, that meant the curse was broken."

"And he bought that?" Johnny immediately asked, his voice skeptical.

Marco simply raised his eyebrows, nodding his head affirmatively.

"Well, I'll be damned," Johnny whispered, his jaw staying open as if he were too stunned to close it.

"Good job, Marco," Roy spoke, "I think you handled it just fine."

"Thanks, Roy, not too shabby, if I do say so myself."

The smile on Marco's face faded quickly as Captain Stanley opened the door of the dorm.

"You gentleman on strike back here?"

"No sir!"

"Sorry, Cap."

"Yeah, sorry Cap."

~ * ~ * ~

Chet and Mike were hanging hose, the last of the list of chores left to be done. It wasn't Chet's favorite thing to do, but the day had turned from overcast to bright and sunny, and the light breeze that tousled his hair made him glad to have the outside duty.

He could've gotten out of it, using his hand as an excuse, but he'd already gotten out of latrine duty since the cleaning chemicals could easily aggravate his healing wound. Besides, if Cap thought he couldn't hang hose, then he'd certainly think he couldn't handle one either, and Chet didn't want that thought entering anyone's mind.

Smells of lunch being cooked were wafting to the men as they worked, eking it's way from the kitchen through the bay and straight out back, making Chet's stomach announce itself loudly.

"Man, I'm starved. Let's hurry this up and get some grub!"

Mike shook his head in agreement. "Only one more to go, Chet."

Pulling the line forward, Mike stretched it the length of the parking area, making sure it was laying properly to begin folding. Chet began pulling it towards him, distractedly blinded by the sun's assault on his eyes.

In his haste to get the chore completed, he yanked on it.

Bad move.

Caught off guard by the hose suddenly being pulled, Mike's immediate instinct was to hold on tighter. Maybe he should've let go, but if he had, there too could have been complications, considering the hose was draped over his shoulder. No, his instincts were true, because that heavy nozzle probably would've split his head wide open as it came over his shoulder. Instead, he held tight, letting it smack into his right shoulder blade from the jarring, sending a fiery stab of pain through him.

"Damn, Chet!" Mike hollered.

Chet thought nothing of Mike's outburst, sounding to him like the engineer was getting upset that it was taking so long to finish the task.

So he pulled the hose once more.

This time Mike's cry definitely sounded of pain. Chet cupped his bandaged hand above his eyes, blocking the sun enough where he could see the distance ahead of him. 'Oh no, not again,' he thought as he ran over to his friend.

"What were you trying to do, Chet? Play tug of war with that thing?"

Chet ignored the man's attempt at humor - he found nothing funny about it, whatsoever.

How could he have known the man was still holding the hose? He could've looked, he answered himself.

Calling for the paramedics to come outside with a voice verging on panic, he silently berated himself over and over, calling himself 'stupid' - among many other names.

Of course, the rest of the crew came running, all anxious to know what had happened … this time.

"You get hurt, Mike?" Roy asked, seeing the man favoring his right arm, keeping it close to his side as he held his wrist with his left hand.

"What happened out here?" Captain Stanley asked.

Marco just looked at Chet. Reading his friend's face, he knew that guilty look, one that had become all too familiar now.

"It was my …" the sentence had begun from Chet's lips, but Mike took it over before another word could pass.

"It was an accident - I didn't put the hose down before telling Chet to pull the line. Sorry Cap."

"Don't be sorry, Mike, it was an accident. Let's just make sure you're okay."

Already the paramedics had him circled like ants to a cupcake. Sitting him down in a chair that Marco had retrieved from the kitchen, they helped him remove his shirt, and then both eyed the bruise that formed easily below his right shoulder blade.

When Marco saw the bruising, he immediately went to fetch the paramedics equipment.

"Looks painful," Johnny began, "How's it feel, Mike?"

"It's okay," he answered quickly, then began moving his arm in a circular motion, finally stopping after bringing his out-stretched arm completely over his head and back again. "I don't think anything's broken, but I bet it'll be sore in the morning," he offered with a slight grin.

The Captain looked from his engineer to the paramedics, studying each and every emotion and question he could read on their faces, knowing his men so well. "Well, what do you think?" he asked the medical part of his staff.

Johnny took his pulse, first from his left wrist, then from his right. "Pulse is normal." He said, then took his BP, adding that it, too, was within the normal range.

Roy smoothly felt along the underneath of the shoulder blade, feeling for any cracks or chips in the ribs beneath his hands. "I don't feel anything, but we can't know for sure without an x-ray. I think we should take him in, Cap."

"I really think that's a waste of time - I'd be able to tell if something was broke - don't you think?" Mike interjected quickly.

"No, Mike," Johnny began, "sometimes you can't. Sometimes just a little bit of swelling can hide the pain of something a lot more serious. Look, how about we take you in the squad? We have to pick up supplies anyway, and that way you won't have to ride in an ambulance." His words were spoken like the true professional that he was, never letting on his real concerns as he spoke calmly and evenly.

"The last time I let someone get out of getting checked out, they ended up hurt a lot worse than any of us thought," the Captain spoke up, pointedly eyeing Marco. "This time we're going to play it safe. Got it?" his words were more of a demand than a question, and Mike realized as he looked into the Captain's eyes that he had no choice in the matter.

"Yes sir." He answered quietly.

Captain Stanley turned and quickly walked into the bay, calling his company out of service as he called in yet another code I.

Marco and Chet remained outside, finishing folding the last hose as Mike, Johnny and Roy left in the squad.

Chapter Eight

As Mike was being x-rayed, Johnny and Roy stood leaning at the nurse's station with Dixie, who, naturally, was back at work rather than being home, relaxing as Dr. Brackett had told her to do.

"One more day away from this place and total chaos would be ruling. I just had to get hurt the day baseball leagues started up again," she said, smiling. "So many injuries, so little time ..."

"You look a lot better than you did," Johnny smiled, noting to himself how she thrived when she was working, but how sullen she had been in that hospital bed.

"Well that's because I feel a lot better, Johnny. How're things going at the station? Other than Mike getting hurt, of course."

"You mean how's Chet doing?" Johnny chided.

"The first thing I heard when I got in this morning was that you guys had a jinx on your hands. I hope Chet hasn't heard that nonsense," she spoke lowly.

"I think he's the one that started the rumor," Roy answered.

"Yeah," Johnny chimed in, "and if it hadn't been for Marco understanding the superstitions in Chet's brain, he probably would've been out on a leave of absence today, blaming himself for everything."

As Dixie's eyebrows raised, Johnny explained the twisted logic that brought Chet back around.

"Sounds too good to be true," she said after Johnny was done.

"That's what I said!" he began, "Well, not exactly in those words, but you know what I mean. With Chet, nothing's that simple," he finished.

Dixie picked up the paperwork she'd been filling out during their conversation and stood, readying to leave. She leaned in towards the younger paramedic. "You should know, Johnny."

Both men watched as she left - one grinning; the other feigning a look of shock.

~ * ~ * ~

Chet and Marco quickly put the last hose away, then headed into the kitchen, where their Captain had finished fixing the lunch Marco had started.

"You guys ready to have some chow?"

"I'd rather wait till Mike and the guys get back," Chet answered solemnly.

The other two men agreed, both noting the worry on Chet's face. They both knew there was more to Mike's accident than they'd been lead to believe. Chet was ready to take blame, but Mike interjected before the words were allowed to slip out. It hadn't gone unnoticed.

~ * ~ * ~

Mike had been released after the x-ray confirmed his words; he would be sore, but was given some Tylenol and allowed to return to work.

The squad backed in twenty minutes later, and all three men exited quickly, ready to begin work. Again.

But after a good meal, of course.

Lunch was eaten in relative silence. The men scarfed their food down, anxiously awaiting to be toned out at any given moment, but determined to fill their complaining stomachs.

Once the dishes had been cleaned and dried then put away, the men were a bit restless. After all, they'd been on shift for almost seven hours, and even though they were stood down for a couple of them, it was very unusual for not even the squad to have been called out. If they hadn't heard other stations called out now and then, they would have sworn that the radios were down.

Captain Stanley had all of his paperwork caught up, and even that from C shift that hadn't been completed. He'd even managed to explain the latest of one of his crew's downfalls to the Chief, who called as soon as the squad pulled out. He wanted to know why the station had been placed out of service yet again. It hadn't been easy, but when the Chief chuckled, saying something about there must be a full moon this week, Hank knew there wouldn't be any repercussions - this time.

John Gage knocked the Captain's door, distracting him from his thoughts.
"Cap, we're gonna go out and shoot some hoops. We were hoping you'd come out and make the teams even. How 'bout it?"

The Captain nodded his acceptance to play, then waited for John to leave before he stood. He looked up towards the ceiling. 'What harm can that be?' he thought to himself, then grimaced when his thoughts answered him.

Chapter Nine

The hoops being played were actually relaxing to the guys, who played to the best of their abilities, considering the injuries among them. It was a warm afternoon, and even though the men were getting their fair share of exercise, they also were getting a little hot under the collar as well.

"Roy, you've been practicing!" Johnny sneered as his partner slid the ball in the hoop for the umpteenth time.

Roy laughed at his partner before bouncing the ball towards him. "Hey Junior, when you have kids that want to play basketball every evening when you're off, you learn a few things."

"I don't need kids to have a few good moves of my own, Pally," Johnny retorted, the evil grin across his face evidence of some sort of strategy coming to mind. Wiggling his eyebrows, he began this sort of dance as he bounced the ball, resembling a cross between a rabbit and an unbalanced ballerina. It was not a pretty sight.

"Are ya gonna prance around all day or are you going to actually take a shot, Gage?" Chet hollered hotly.

"Well Chet, I've already landed five of my own - why don't YOU take it?" John shouted back, throwing the ball in the fireman's direction.

Chet caught it, aggravated that the paramedic acted so angry over what he felt was an innocent question.

"No Gage, you want to strut your stuff so much, YOU take it!"

With that, Chet threw the ball with all the force he could muster, aiming for the paramedic's head. But Johnny saw the anger that came through in that fast throw, and quickly maneuvered himself out of harm's way.

Unfortunately, Roy didn't.

Seeing his partner almost jogging in place in front of him, Roy heard the exchange between Johnny and Chet. He could also tell from the tones in their voices that this was quickly not becoming a joking matter anymore.

He opened his mouth to speak, ready to calm those two down and explain to them that this was only a game for goodness sake, when Johnny suddenly moved.

Roy saw the ball coming at him, but couldn't move quickly enough to get out of the way.

The impact of the large, hard rubber ball was a shock, to say the least.

It slammed into his face, giving at first a numbing sensation that lasted all of maybe two seconds. Then pain.

Roy found himself suddenly wondering where everyone was.

~ * ~ * ~

Chet watched the accident occur as if in slow motion. His ire had him throwing the ball at Gage menacingly. He was hot and irritable and Johnny just seemed to be pushing all his buttons.

He threw the ball hard at Johnny, regretting that move before the ball left his fingertips. He really didn't want to hurt the man, all he wanted was for him to simply shut up.

But as the ball took aim, Gage's face took on an almost cocky grin as he easily stepped out of its path.

That's when he saw Roy. The man had a dumbfounded look on his face, unable to react in the split-second it took for the ball to make impact. The 'weapon' slammed into his face, blocking Chet's view of everything other than the dark blond hair on top of Roy's head.

When it fell, so did Roy. He seemed to just collapse, his body no longer trying to struggle with gravity as it let the force of nature win, taking him backward until he lay flat.

This was the last thing Chet had wanted. Yeah, he'd hoped to knock some sense into Gage, but he knew that the man's reflexes were pristine, and just knew he'd catch that damned basketball. How could he possibly have known that Johnny would just get out of the way?

~ * ~ * ~

"Oh my God." The words fell from Chet's lips as he saw Roy lying there on the asphalt, his face covered in blood.

"Hey Pally, how're ya feeling? Roy? Talk to me," Johnny said, already trying to find the level of consciousness his partner was holding on to.

Roy moaned, squinting as he looked up at his partner, who kneeled down beside him, making sure to block the sun that assaulted the downed paramedic's eyes.

"Where do you hurt, Roy?" John asked, trying to assess his friend's injuries.

As was becoming routine, Marco had gone to retrieve the paramedic's equipment, and Mike went with him, helping to bring it all outside.

Mike said a silent prayer that Roy was okay, as he and Marco set the necessary equipment down beside Johnny. Marco watched the ever-nervous Chet getting more anxious by the moment.

~ * ~ * ~

Roy thought he was close to unconsciousness. All he could see was white, and it hurt his eyes to keep them open. He was just about ready to close his
eyes when the white suddenly cleared and his partner's face appeared above him.

Reality flooded his mind when he realized exactly what happened - beamed by a basketball. He heard his partner asking how he felt, but along with the obvious pain, he was embarrassed. He just wanted to sit up.

"Hold on, now hold on a minute, Roy," Johnny's words were firm, and Roy realized he was trying to be cautious, but that didn't help matters any.

"I'm fine Johnny, my nose just hurts like hell."

"Yeah, well you fell backwards, and I've got to see if you hurt yourself any worse going down. How do you feel? Are you dizzy? Nauseous?" he asked, his fingers probing the back of the senior paramedic's skull, feeling for anything out of the ordinary.

"No, but I will be if this blood doesn't stop going down my throat," Roy stated, clearing his throat in hopes of keeping himself from gagging. "I don't think my head made impact when I fell - I think I caught myself on my elbows."

Johnny looked at first the right elbow, then the left. Sure enough, both were scraped and bloody.

"Yeah, looks like that's how you landed all right," Johnny stated, then grabbed the wet towel Mike had gotten for him as he cleaned Roy's face off.

"Nose hurts," Roy repeated as Johnny's cleaning aggravated his wound.

"I bet it does. Your nose is definitely broken."

Johnny didn't bother to tell his friend that he was already sporting two black eyes as well. He'd know soon enough after he got to Rampart.

Chapter Ten

Once again, the Captain had called in yet another code I as he put the squad out of service. He didn't dare take the engine down too - well, strike that. If John had thought there was anything else wrong with Roy other than that broken nose, he'd have taken them all out of service and suffered the consequences later. As it was, the engine would be out of commission for at least an hour while John rode in with Roy and Marco brought the squad in behind them. He knew he'd be suffering soon enough, pretty sure that the Chief would soon be making a visit to the station.

He made sure an ambulance was dispatched to the station, and then called around in hopes of finding a replacement for his downed paramedic. That was easily taken care of.

The ambulance would soon be arriving, and he somehow felt that Roy would be objecting to the ride in, so he knelt down beside his friend to tell him the news himself.

"Roy, you know, I had to call an ambulance for you here, but I got a hold of Dwyer - he'll be taking over your shift so you don't have to worry about that. Would you like me to call Joanne?"

The paramedic grunted slightly from hearing the word 'ambulance', but that was the only objection he sounded. He nodded that he wanted his wife called, and other than that, was keeping himself quite calm and quiet.

~ * ~ * ~

Once Roy was loaded into the ambulance, John climbed in and the Captain closed the doors, not missing the look of worry crossing Johnny's face.

In the short time that it had taken for the ambulance arrive, Roy's eyes had all but swollen shut. His discomfort had grown into full-blown pain, and his attempts at talking were sounding a lot like Elmer Fudd.

Marco followed the ambulance as it pulled out, shaking his head sadly at the turn of events. He knew he needed to talk to Chet, and caught himself wondering how much anger Captain Stanley would be venting upon HIS talk to the fireman. He'd been calm up until now, but how stupid was that move today of Chet's? Even Marco found himself a little disgruntled at his friend's latest thoughtlessness.

He was thinking about how to approach Chet, this time, and discuss everything without hurting the man's feelings. He really wanted to grab him by the shoulders and yell at him until some sense sunk into his thick skull. But then he thought better of it, knowing that Chet was probably doing a good job of berating himself already.

Marco watched as the ambulance pulled into the last intersection before reaching Rampart. He sighed deeply, knowing he'd be returning to the station soon, and hoped he'd have the right words to get through to his friend.

He heard screeching tires, but even though it sounded like it was coming from in front of him, he saw no brake lights on the ambulance. Turning his head quickly to the right, then the left, he saw it. A gray Dodge pick-up, coming through the intersection at a high rate of speed. The Dodge wasn't braking - it was a car in the opposite lane, a light blue Chevy, turning sideways in an attempt to avoid colliding with the truck. One accident avoided, though barely.

The ambulance didn't have a chance. Charlie, the driver, apparently noticed the same thing that Marco did, first seeing the Chevy as it nearly missed hitting the Dodge. But when it came his turn to get out of the way, he didn't have anywhere to go. There was a Chevette in the lane beside him that had pulled over into the slow lane to let the emergency vehicle pass.

Now it was blocking its only escape.

Marco slammed his foot on the brake, making the tires squeal beneath him.

As he came to a stop, he watched the truck impact into the side of the ambulance. The glass from the side windows plumed onto the truck, bouncing off the vehicle like diamonds in the sun.

Marco was stunned - watching as the ambulance tipped over, falling ungraciously on its side.

~ * ~ * ~

Captain Stanley looked at Chet, his expression undetermined by the straight face that held dark, staring eyes.

Mike finished gathering the mess of bloody gauze and towels, then stood, holding them for a moment as he watched Chet stare at the asphalt. Seeing the look on the Captain's face, he decided to leave the men alone outside, letting them talk over in private what he could only imagine would be a very heated discussion. He only hoped it wouldn't be too bad.

"Cap, I …" Chet found words difficult to offer, but the Captain stood quiet, waiting patiently for him to spit them out.

"I really didn't mean to hurt Roy - I mean, I didn't mean to hurt anyone - honest! I threw the ball at Gage because, well, I mean, I just knew when I threw that damned ball at him that he was going to catch it - I never thought he would duck out of the way, and I honestly didn't know Roy was behind him! You know I'd never hurt Roy - not anyone like that on purpose, don't you?"

Hank took a deep, cleansing breath, then let it out slowly, trying his best to contain his outrage over the situation as best as possible. He eyed the fireman, who, once he was finished talking, resumed his stare at the ground beneath him.

"Chet, I believe you wouldn't intentionally hurt anyone, but the fact of the matter is that because of you, I've had to take this station out of service again. And yes, each time these were all accidents. But that doesn't take the heat off me getting my ass chewed by the Chief, and it doesn't stop the fact that there's probably going to be an investigation as to why all of a sudden this station has become a disaster area."

There, he'd said it. He didn't scream the words, knowing that yelling at Chet wasn't going to suddenly make everything all better. But boy, did he
want to.

"Maybe I should take some vacation time, or, maybe just take a leave of absence," Chet mumbled, finally locking eyes with his superior. "I could maybe transfer ..."

"That isn't going to solve a thing," Hank stated as he let out another sigh. "Your taking time off will only make you that much more worried when you get back. And I'm not going to approve any sort of transfer, so you can forget about that."

He watched Chet's reaction, hoping he'd understand that he didn't want him leaving. "Look, we'll get through this, but how about you just be real careful and start thinking a little before acting on something, okay Pal? Otherwise, the next person injured is going to be me again when the Chief has my butt in a sling."

Chet watched the slight grin that curled the Captain's lips, then let out a sigh of his own. "I will Cap, I will - I promise. I just hope me being a jinx isn't a permanent thing now."

"You are NOT a jinx, Chet, and I don't want to hear that word come out of your mouth again. You've just had some crappy luck this week, that's all - it doesn't make you a mascot for trouble, and …"

"Cap! Chet! You guys better come listen to this!" Mike interrupted, running out from the back of the bay to wave them in, then back inside at a hurried pace. "I think it's Marco!"

Both men ran inside, knowing Mike was not one to exaggerate as they recognized the panic in his voice.

They first heard the dispatcher, Sam, talking.

"Unit calling in, please identify." His tone was calm, even though he'd heard the man's shaking voice, sounding close to hysteria.

"LA, this is engine 51, I mean squad 51." Marco's voice was a shrill of its normal tone. "I'm at the intersection of Palomino Drive and West 64th streets. The ambulance in route from the station, from station 51, has been involved in an accident. Please respond a squad and ambulance! We need someone out here to divert the traffic, too. I think it's bad. Real bad," he stated, almost out of breath as he tried to maintain his composure and talk calmly.

It wasn't working.

"10 - 4 squad 51."

Within seconds, the tones were sounding from the speaker as station 36 was sent on the call. Within those same few seconds, the Captain, Mike, and Chet
were getting into the engine as Captain Stanley grabbed the handset.

"LA, this is engine 51. Be advised we are en route to Palomino Drive and 64th to offer assistance." This was no request. He simply stated a fact. There was nothing that could keep him from finding out how his men were.

"10 - 4, engine 51."

Chapter Eleven

Marco jumped out of the squad, not bothering to put the mike back in its resting place. He didn't even close the door.

He had to know. Had to see them. Had to see how bad it was. Had to know if they were alive.

He knew the driver of the truck just couldn't be alive, as mangled as that vehicle was, but he had to check. It was his duty to tend to the civilian first, and he ran over to her without a second thought. Checking for a pulse, he was amazed to find one, strong though a bit erratic. He called to her, trying to determine her level of consciousness. The woman began mumbling a bit, two words, over and over again.

"No brakes."

He could tell she was in pain, but she drifted back into unconsciousness, which was probably the best thing he thought, seeing the injuries she'd sustained, until help could arrive.

Quickly he made his way over to the ambulance, yelling for people to stay back from the scene. People were now lining the area, out of their vehicles and gawking.

Charlie, the ambulance driver, was crawling out from what once was the windshield. Marco had heard a banging noise, and now realized it had been him, kicking at the glass as best he could to free himself from the wreckage.

He ran towards the back of the emergency vehicle, only to be stopped by Marco.

"Charlie, you need to sit down - you've got a nasty cut on your head and you could have other injuries."

"No, I'm okay, I'm okay," he said, sounding more like he was trying to convince himself of that than Marco. "I called to them, but no one's moving back there. We need to get to them - quick!" He started to pull away from Marco, then just as quickly, he stopped. "I need to call this in!" He turned around to run back to the front of the ambulance, but the turn was too quick for his body to adjust to, and he slumped into the undercarriage of the vehicle, caught only from hitting the ground by Marco's quick thinking.

"Help's coming, okay Charlie? You hear me? Help is on the way. Now you sit here and stay calm while I go check on the guys," he said, calming the attendant while helping him softly to the ground. Charlie nodded and Marco left him, running to the backside of the ambulance.

Looking through the windows of its back doors, Marco drew in a breath as he saw his crewmates through the broken glass. He was never so relieved to hear the wails of sirens approaching the scene.

Marco could see Johnny laying on the side of the ambulance, which was now its floor, and he was obviously unconscious. He was pinned beneath Roy, who was still attached to the stretcher, which was completely over-turned. Johnny lay at an awkward angle, his lower torso below the bench where he probably sat when the vehicle was struck; his upper body bent backwards over the bench. From what Marco could tell, if it hadn't been for Johnny's body below him, Roy would've been crushed against the ambulance wall. "Johnny's body. Johnny's body? No!" Marco cursed himself, "Don't even think that way, please, no."

He began frantically pulling on the doors, but they wouldn't budge. He cursed out loud, unable to hide his anguish as he ran over to the squad, looking for a crowbar - anything, to open those doors with.

Running back to the doors, he began working them loose, unwilling to wait for the help that was arriving.

~ * ~ * ~

As Mike pulled the engine closer to the intersection, all three men's jaws dropped simultaneously at the sight before them which now was coming into full view.

"Dear Jesus," the Captain muttered, not sure if he'd spoken the words aloud or not.

The squad sat at a sideways angle just in front of them; the skid marks on the pavement evidence of Marco's quick thinking.

Just ahead of the squad was an older model gray pick-up, it's entire front crushed and pushed in towards the cab. The front bumper hung precariously from the left side, while the right side touched the pavement, surrounded by broken glass.

And beside the truck lay the ambulance, sitting on its right side, looking ominously out of place.

Captain Stanley was out of the engine before Mike could bring it to a complete stop. Running quickly towards Marco, he threw on his turnout coat and began calling to his man on the scene.

Marco heard the welcome voice of his Captain, but didn't acknowledge him, determined to get inside the ambulance and help his friends. By the time Hank reached him, he was making progress.

"Cap," he began, never stopping to look at the man while working those doors free, "There's a woman in the truck, she's unconscious but had a good pulse when I checked her, and Charlie's kind of out of it, but was moving around okay. I just gotta get to Johnny and Roy in there," he said through gritted teeth, using all his strength to finally pry open the doors.

The Captain grabbed his walkie-talkie, all the while watching Marco push open the doors.

"LA, this is engine 51, respond another squad and additional ambulance to our location, we have an MVA with four known victims."

"10 - 4, 51"

Chet ran towards the pick-up truck, checking on the driver, then ran over to Charlie, checking on him. Company 36 arrived by the time he had finished, and he ran towards their squad, filling them in on his findings before running over to Captain Stanley. When he arrived, he noticed with everyone else that Johnny was starting to come around.

Disoriented, John Gage did not answer to his Captain's voice, calling gently to the injured man. Instead, he began complaining loudly about the weight that crushed his chest, repeating a few times that he couldn't breathe, then just as suddenly, became deathly silent.

Through all the noise and confusion, Roy DeSoto never made a sound, remaining what the men prayed was simply unconscious, and nothing worse.

Three men from 36's came rushing over to the ambulance, ready to help in any way possible. One of their crew had begun hosing down a small gas leak that came from the Dodge truck. Their paramedics had split up - one with the woman still within the confines of the truck, and the other, who first ran and checked on Charlie, came straight to the back of the ambulance after hearing Johnny's outburst.

"We've got to get that stretcher out and off of John right now," Captain Stanley ordered, letting one of 36's men get in, walking cautiously behind Roy. Once inside, he helped to heft the man's dead weight off from Johnny, and with Marco on the other side of the stretcher, they successfully brought him out.

The paramedic's from 110 arrived as if on cue, and quickly took over the care of Roy, as the paramedic from 36 jumped back inside the ambulance with Johnny.

"What the hell happened here, Hank?" the Captain from 36 asked, stunned by the sight around him, which was now under control. But Captain Stanley couldn't answer him. He barely heard Marco explaining that the driver of the truck apparently lost her brakes and came barreling out into the intersection. Hank Stanley really didn't care how it happened at this point. His only concern now was how it would all end.

Roy began groaning as the paramedic working on him began palpitating his body, looking for injuries other than what he'd been informed had gotten him here to begin with. Along with his swollen, blackened eyes and broken, bandaged nose, he now sported a nice gash just above his left temple. It was pretty obvious that during the ambulance's turning on it's side, his head must've made contact with the cabinet/bench he'd been thrown towards.

As ambulances began arriving on the scene, the first one there took the driver of the truck and Charlie to Rampart while Roy and Johnny were being stabilized.
Roy was now coherent, not complaining of any pain; just wanting to know how his partner was. Captain Stanley spoke to him, trying to keep him calm, but the less information he got on Johnny's condition, the more agitated he was becoming.

Johnny had been placed on a backboard - the unusual position he had been forced into by the stretcher had bent him mercilessly, but all reflexes seemed normal and this was simply precautionary. He certainly had a concussion just like his partner, but his breathing difficulties ceased once his partner's weight had been lifted. Now fully conscious, he was rambling on as he tried to tell 36's paramedics what to do in caring for Roy.

Roy, on the other hand, had calmed down once he heard Johnny's voice, and was almost smiling, knowing their caretakers were probably rolling their eyes at his partner.

Once the paramedics of station 51 were loaded into the ambulance, the firemen of 51 sighed with relief, feeling very fortunate at the outcome. But when their Captain groaned, they couldn't help but wonder why. Until they followed his pointed stare, seeing the Chief's car pulling up.

Chapter Twelve

Captain Stanley drew a deep breath as Chief McConnikee approached him. The man's facial expression was not pleasant.

"Marco, you go ahead and take the squad back to the station. Dwyer should be there by now, and I'm betting the Chief's already got a replacement for Gage heading in as well. We'll meet you back at the station, then we can all head over to the hospital and check up on the guys and just makes ourselves available from there." Without missing a beat, he turned to Mike and Chet. "How about you two wait in the engine for me. I'll try and make this quick."

Doing as they were told, Mike sat ready in the driver's seat of the engine while Chet sat in the Captain's seat, watching as Hank and McConnikee exchanged words. There was really no way to make out what they were saying, and hearing any part of it was impossible now that the accident scene was being cleared.

Mike watched as two wreckers hung lines on the ambulance and wenched it sideways until it was upright again. He glanced over at Hank and the Chief now and then, but tried not to stare. And each time he stole a look at Chet, he could see the worry in the man's eyes building as he watched the two men talking.

"Chet? You okay?"

"No, no I'm not okay. Cap's out there getting his ass chewed because of all the crap that's been going down with us lately, and all that crap is because of me. Right now Johnny and Roy are both on their way to the hospital - because of ME!"

"No," Mike's voice was calm and even, unlike Chet's, which told his anxiety. "Chet, you can't go blaming yourself because that woman's brakes failed and she ran into the ambulance. It was just an accident - a terrible one, but that's all it was."

They stared at one another for a moment, and Mike thought that maybe his words were sinking in, at least that's what he was hoping for.

He was wrong.

Chet fidgeted nervously and returned his gaze towards Captain Stanley and Chief McConnikee, unable to keep himself from watching the exchange between the two men. Finally he could take no more, and jumped out of the truck, interrupting them quite abruptly.

~ * ~ * ~

Dixie watched as the paramedics were taken out of the ambulance one by one, and cringed inwardly when first she saw Roy; his face looking as if he'd been beaten by a baseball bat. She then looked at Johnny as he was pulled down - noting the dark eyes that stared back at her. She smiled at him, and he gave her a half-hearted grin back, telling on himself that he wasn't feeling up to par. She knew what that was about - not his pain or discomfort, no, he was worried about Roy. She sent them to treatment rooms 3 and 4, and went in to one, then the other, checking on them both and doing everything possible to help both her favorite paramedics.

Joe Early was waiting when Roy was brought into treatment room 3, and already he had the portable x-ray unit waiting, wanting a full skull series as soon as he arrived. He knew of the broken nose since he was the one on the other end of the line when Johnny had called Rampart on his partner's behalf, but after that accident with the ambulance, newer worries of newer wounds now compounded older ones.

"How are you feeling, Roy?" he asked gently.

"Could be better. Uh, Doc? How's Johnny doing?"

Dr. Early looked at Dixie, who was standing beside the gurney Roy had been placed upon.

"He looks good, Roy," she answered quickly. "But I'll go check on him in just a minute, okay?" She hooked up Roy's IV to the pole attached to his gurney, then patted him gently on the shoulder before leaving.

Roy nodded, still worried having really been told nothing about Johnny's condition.

~ * ~ * ~

Kel Brackett was waiting impatiently for John's arrival, his own worries showing clearly on his readable face. The way 36's paramedics described his impact into the wall of the ambulance, and then that being compounded by the weight of the loaded stretcher landing on top of him the way he did, he was fearful of back trauma, not to mention a multitude of internal injuries, not to mention at least a mild concussion.

When the stretcher was brought in, he grinned slightly, happy to see the man conscious and somewhat coherent as he looked around as best he could with the neck brace. When John's eyes finally met the doctor's, he nodded slightly, glad to see him.

"Well John," Dr. Brackett smiled, "seems like you can't get enough of this place, hmm?" He began palpitating Johnny's stomach and abdomen, watching for any reactions from the paramedic. Seeing nothing too far from ordinary, he then removed the paramedic's shoes, checking his reflexes and laughing when John asked him to quit tickling his feet.

Dixie came into the room, just in time to catch Kel's outburst. "Prognosis must be good, I take it?" she asked, smiling.

~ * ~ * ~

Chet ran up towards the Chief and the conversation between him and Captain Stanley abruptly came to a halt.

"It's not his fault - it's mine, Chief. Please don't punish the Cap here because of my stupidity."

"Kelly," McConnikee began, "what makes you think I'm reprimanding Hank?"

"Because that's your job," Chet began, his tone less excited, "and because too many things have been going wrong at our station and he's in charge. But I bet what he's not telling you about all this, well, everything that's happened right up to the ambulance getting broadsided - it's because of me."

The Chief looked from Chet to Captain Stanley, then back at Chet again. "Kelly, I think you need to explain yourself here, right now."

Chet took a deep breath, then let it out raggedly. "I mopped the floor when Dixie came by and fell in the kitchen - all because I didn't get it dry enough. And then, when we were at the hospital making sure that Dixie was okay, we got called out on a run and I opened the door right into Marco's head, and later he fell out on the Cap here with a concussion. And then, it wasn't long after that when I got mad over a bad run we'd had, and I slammed my glass on the counter and it shattered - well, I almost blinded the Cap here! Then right after that, Mike and I were laying out the hoses, and I yanked on one and Mike still had it draped over his shoulder – man, I thought I’d broken a few of his ribs with that stupid move. Oh, and then of course, there's today, where I threw the basketball at Gage, I mean, I didn't really wanna hurt him, but he ducked and it hit Roy and broke his nose - and then damned if the ambulance carrying him to the hospital doesn't get hit on the way to Rampart. I'm telling ya Chief McConnikee, I've turned into some kinda jinx at our station, and Cap had nothing to do with it. He couldn't control anything that was happening because it was all my fault. In fact, like I told ya, he was one of my 'victims'. So before you go blaming him for all the crap that's been happening to us, I figured you needed to know the truth. It was me. And as soon as our shift is over, I'm turning in my resignation."

Chapter Thirteen

Captain Stanley looked at Chet with eyes that bore into him, anger brimming with the curve of each eyebrow. "Chet, what the hell are you talking about?"

"It's the only way to keep you guys safe, Cap. All I have to do is leave." Chet's tone had lost its edge. No longer did he sound angered, thinking the Chief was berating his beloved Captain. No longer did he sound emotional at all. He had figured out the answers, or so he thought, and feeling he could do no more harm to his friends, there was suddenly relief.

"Chet, you are NOT the problem here, do you understand?" The Captain was trying to sound reassuring and trying his damndest not to yell. But he wanted to. He looked towards the Chief, hoping he was in agreement with him. McConnikee understood that look, and took Hank's lead.

"Kelly, I know how you must be feeling. You can ask Hank here - we've had our share of mishaps over the years, and sometimes it just feels like the world is coming down around you, and it makes you want to take the blame. I think we've all been in your position at one time or another. But I don't think you need to be going to such drastic measures like resigning to actually think you've gotten yourself a resolution to the problem."

"If I resign, then you'll lay off the Cap here. It's not his fault, and it's not fair to him that the department blames him for things that would never have happened if I wasn't around," Chet replied solemnly.

"Chet, what in the world made you think that the Chief was on my case about anything?" his Captain interjected. "I know you weren't listening in on our conversation, because if you had been, you'd have known we were talking about Roy and John."

"But don't you see Cap? Nothing would've happened here if it wasn't for me! I mean, you two might not have been going over all the details right now, but trust me Cap, it's only a matter of time before the Chief here rips you a new one - uh, no offense Chief ."

~ * ~ * ~

Joe Early and Kelly Brackett were out in the hallway of the emergency room as their patients were getting x-rayed, and Dixie stood between them, asking the obvious questions that she would, concerned for her two friends.

The prognosis for both paramedics so far seemed good - Johnny wasn't showing signs of internal bleeding, he was just bruised in a lot of places, and most certainly had a concussion, but it appeared there was no skull fracture. The x-rays would hopefully confirm that.

Roy definitely had a broken nose, and amazingly, he seemed to suffer no other injuries in the accident other than a cut on his head, which Dr. Early attributed to being harnessed down in that stretcher. The swelling around his eyes was already diminishing somewhat, and his nose was going to have to be reset, but other than that and a mild concussion, he, too, had faired well given the circumstances.

"I want those films as soon as you get done, Rick," Brackett told the x-ray technician as he wheeled the machine out of the treatment room behind him. Rick nodded, noting to himself that the good doctor always did want them right away.

Dixie smiled at the man - she knew, too.

~ * ~ * ~

Chet looked at the Chief with a questioning expression before turning back to his Captain. At first, he was embarrassed about his last remark, but then he realized that no matter what he said, it didn't matter - the Chief couldn't reprimand a civilian.

Captain Stanley just shook his head in dismay, wondering how he was going to convince Chet not to leave the department.

"We'd better head out so we can see how Roy and John are doing." the Captain said quietly, "Chief, we'll make ourselves available from the hospital as soon as we find out how the guys are."

"Okay Hank, call me as soon as you know something," he answered, then he looked at Chet, his expression most sincere.

He gently put his hand on the fireman's shoulder, giving it a comfortable squeeze.

The Chief's last words to Chet before he left ran over and over again in Chet's mind. "Are you fixing the problem by leaving your friends and your duties, young man? Or are you running away from it?"

Chapter Fourteen

Eventually station 51 made it to Rampart - the squad staying behind as Dwyer and Brice found themselves already out on two runs since they arrived for duty.

Parking in the closest spot available to hold the big rig, Mike positioned the fire truck so that it would be easily accessible and ready to leave should they be toned out, making sure to not block the entrance or ambulance right of ways.

Marco met them when they arrived, giving the men the good news on the paramedic's prognosis. Johnny and Roy had just been moved into a semi-private room which they shared, and even though visiting hours were now over, the firemen decided to plead their cases and try for a quick visit. They were successful.

Both the paramedics were tired and could barely keep their eyes open, but gratefully invited their friends in. They knew the crew had been told they'd be okay, but also knew they needed to see for themselves.

Dixie gave them a few minutes alone, but fairly warned the men that they were breaking all the rules, and they had ten minutes - no more.

Once the normal greetings were over with and the regular questionings of 'how are you feeling?', and 'do you need anything?' had been asked, the firemen left the room, leaving the Captain to speak to the paramedics in private.

Captain Stanley looked fondly at the two men, grateful that they were doing so well, especially considering what they'd just been through. But it was Roy who spoke first.

"Cap, how's Chet doing?"

"Yeah," Johnny spoke up, "he sure seemed calm about everything all of a sudden, not all quiet and guilty like he was earlier. Were you able to get through to him?"

"I think," the Captain spoke softly after shaking his head negatively, "that he's feeling a little more at peace with himself now. Right after you two were brought here to Rampart, the Chief pulled up. We were discussing that truck blind-siding the ambulance when Chet came running over."

"Uh oh."

"Uh huh. He thought McConnikee was raking me over the coals for everything that's been going on at the station lately, so he decided to tell the Chief that it was all his fault. Then he told the Chief that after his shift was over, he was turning in his resignation."

"What?" both Roy and Johnny asked simultaneously.

"Yep."

"Oh no," Johnny began, "he's gonna quit? What good does he think that's gonna do?"

The Captain sighed deeply. "He thinks that if he quits, he can keep us safe, but if he stays, we'll all get hurt, and probably worse than before in some cases. He's convinced he's a jinx."

Roy coughed, making the other two men silently worry as he moaned slightly from the pain it caused, but he continued the conversation, letting his friends know he was okay. "How can we convince him that these were just accidents and keep him from resigning?"

"That's the million dollar question, Roy," Hank said, "and I don't have the answer to that one. Yet."

Dixie came in, letting the men know that their unofficial visit was now over without saying a word. Captain Stanley smiled at her, grateful for the time he and his men had been given, then left after saying his good-byes.

Once Dixie was assured that her two favorite patients were all right and settled in for the evening, she, too, left, and turned off the overhead lights as she went, leaving only the two fluorescent bulbs on above each man's bed.

Johnny looked over in Roy's direction, seeing his friend's eyes still open, a look of deep thought visible in the dim lighting. "Hey Roy?"

"Yeah?"

"You know, as much as I dislike the Phantom's pranks and Chet's smart-mouthed remarks, I'd sure hate to see him leave the department."

"I know. Me too, Johnny, me too."

~ * ~ * ~

The engine pulled into the bay around 9:30 that evening, it's men worn and hungry after an exhausting day. Dwyer and Brice had made dinner for them, leaving it warming in the oven. They had been called out on yet another run after the engine left Rampart.

Chet ate his meal in silence, pondering his next actions carefully, though still convinced that it was for the better of his crew if he left, freeing them of his bad luck.

Marco was ready to speak his mind a few times, his mouth opening, but the words wouldn't come out. He wanted to comfort his friend, not berate him, but each time he was ready to speak, he felt the anger building, wanting no more than to take Chet by the shoulders and shake some sense in him. He'd wait. Yes, he'd wait until their meal was eaten and the dishes were done, and then he'd hope for the right words to make his friend understand that he was not to blame for these accidents.

The Captain was battling his own war of words in his mind, also hoping for a chance to talk Chet into an understanding of sorts. If nothing else, he figured he could at least talk his stubborn fireman into waiting - at least giving a couple weeks notice, and maybe, by the end of those two weeks, changing his mind. He'd talk to him later, hopeful to find the proper wording to smooth things over.

Mike watched all his friends while they ate in silence. He knew that the Captain and Marco were probably thinking the same things he was, wondering how to get Chet to stop thinking of himself as the company's unlucky charm. He also watched Chet. Though the man had looked a little betrayed when the Captain had told him and Marco that Chet was planning on resigning, he soon got over it, convincing himself it was for the best. But Mike wanted to ask him what he planned on doing if he wasn't a fireman any more. He planned on asking him after dinner, hoping that Chet hadn't thought that far ahead. If he didn't have a game plan, maybe he wouldn't be so quick to leave the team.

So as it could only be told, each man planned to talk to Chet after dinner. It could work - maybe each taking a turn on him, trying to reason with him, hoping to change his mind. But the best made plans …

Dinner had been eaten and the dishes were being cleared, and then the tones sounded.

"Station 36, engine 51. Structure fire, 1 - 6 - 5 - 2 Laburnum Avenue. 1 - 6 - 5 - 2 Laburnum Avenue. Cross street Dover Drive. Time out, 22:10.”

"10 - 4, engine 51 responding. KMG - 365."

Chapter Fifteen

The fire could be seen from two blocks away as the engine roared to its destination, sirens blaring. It looked bad. The men of 51 already heard 36's Captain calling for another response, including a ladder truck.

When Mike pulled the engine to a stop on the building's west side, the men all sprang into action. Mike jumped out of the engine, readying the water pressure, while Captain Stanley ran over to Captain Donovan from 36's, getting their game plan together. Marco and Chet grabbed up their gear and began pulling lines down, eager to get the fire under control.

Flames shot out from all sides of the three story structure, seemingly strongest on the second floor and moving upwards with menacing speed. The only good news concerning this monster was the fact that it was being renovated and it had already been determined that no one was inside.

Once Mike had the pressure to level, the lines were opened, giving Marco and Chet full power to head in. The last thing they heard before going into the inferno was that squad 51 was available and now was being dispatched to their location. They both silently prayed that Brice and Dwyer's paramedic services would not be needed.

~ * ~ * ~

The flames began making their way down towards the first floor with growing fierceness, inching downward as if trying to beat the firemen at their game.

It wasn't long before everyone was called out of the building. A flash seemed eminent, and the building's structure was becoming unstable at an alarming speed. Three companies had now responded to the fire, but it was obvious that the building could not be saved. The only thing they could hope for was to get the fire contained before it spread to other buildings nearby.

Marco came out first, followed quickly by Chet. The other firemen who had entered from different locations had also exited, and now the only thing left was to dowse the fire as best as possible from the outside instead of within.

Marco took his hose around to the north side of the structure as the Captain ordered, while Chet stayed on the west side where engine 51 stood its ground.

Captain Stanley stood beside engine 36 with Captain Donovan and Battalion Chief Stevens, who was plotting a strategy to end the fire from the south-west corner of the structure.

A low rumbling noise began, sounding almost like thunder. It caused the commanders at first to look up above them, stopping the Battalion Chief's orders mid-sentence. As the noise became louder, they turned towards the direction it came from - the west.

Mike and Chet looked up, hearing the noise above them as the ground below began to shake.

Chet knew that noise all too well. Dropping the hose, he ran as fast as he could towards Mike.

"Mike! Chet! Get the hell out of there - NOW!" Captain Stanley yelled, watching helplessly as the building began to crumble down towards them.

~ * ~ * ~

As Chet dropped his hose, he heard Captain Stanley yelling, but couldn't quite make out what was being said. The hose had come to life - and having no one to control it any longer, it began taking on the characteristics of a snake as it raised itself from the ground and swirled, casting a watery storm in its wake. Water was streaming everywhere, even hitting Chet; it's force strong enough to knock him down. He cursed himself for not thinking to cut off the demon in his haste to retreat.

Quickly recovering, Chet picked himself up and ran towards the engine, watching flaming debris falling all around him as if in slow motion. It seemed to float downward, each piece becoming larger that the next.

Mike had been ready to get himself out of harms way as soon as Chet was with him, but then watched in horror as Chet fell to the ground, the blunt force of pressurized water knocking him down. Quickly he shut down the water to that line, then ran to help his friend.

Both firemen seemed to meet halfway, each eager to get the other to safety. Mike grabbed Chet by his turnout coat's right sleeve at the shoulder, knowing their time was running out. In turn, Chet grabbed Mike's elbow, each holding on, unwilling to go without the other. They ran as if their very lives depended on it.

Suddenly above them, they heard the unmistakable roar of the building flashing. Since most of the inferno was already engulfed by flame, the explosion looked like a bomb going off, scattering burning embers and bricks like twigs. The west side of the building, which had already begun to falter, suddenly fell to the ground, capturing the fire engine of company 51 and its firemen who had desperately tried to escape.

All the firemen who'd been trying to douse the miserable beast were knocked to the ground when it exploded, already knowing that its fate was inevitable. What they didn't realize at first was that it had collapsed on one side, trapping two of their own.

Captain Stanley watched in horror as the building seemed to swallow up his two men. He watched as they ran, trying to escape the onslaught of bricks and burning timbers that fell towards them, almost looking as if they were being chased by the debris. Then just as quickly, he watched as they vanished beneath it.

Marco had been working the fire from the north side of the building when the ground seemed to jerk from underneath his feet; the building's flash rocking his balance. He shut his hose down and let it fall as he covered his head with his arms and crouched, knowing all too well the effects of the flash and how it could throw parts of the building like projectiles. When the glass and debris falling became minimal, he stood up, looking around at the damage as he retrieved the hose, immediately ready to go back to his work. Backing himself up, he began assessing the damage caused by the building's flash. Sometimes, when a building was a lost cause for recovery, a flash was the quickest way to get the fire under control, barring any complications. Sometimes it was the worst thing that could possibly happen.

His gut was telling him that this one was going to be the latter of his scenarios.

He turned his hose back on, surprised by the lack of pressure and trickle of water he received. Backing up further, he felt suddenly ill, the scene unfolding before his eyes making his stomach lurch.

Engine 51 was covered with brick and smoldering timbers which trailed heavily towards where the wall once covered the building's west side.

Dropping the useless hose, he ran around the mess scattered before him, calling out to Mike and Chet as he impatiently awaited their response.

Chapter Sixteen

Captain Stanley watched helplessly as his men disappeared below the crumbling wall. He never even felt the hand of his Battalion Chief on his shoulder, nor did he hear the gasp that escaped Captain Donovan from beside him. When the Battalion Chief called for more units, that's when he found himself fighting the panic rising within him.

Hank ran towards the rubble as a few firemen from 36's began hosing down the area, not wanting the men beneath it in danger of being burned.

Steam rose as the water hit the fallen pile, making an ominous sound in the deathly quiet of its aftermath.

More men now came forward, pulling at the trash that held their fallen firefighters beneath it.

Captain Stanley saw Marco running towards him, his own panic very visible.

"Chet? Mike?" he asked, already knowing the Captain's answer.

"Let's start digging," Hank replied, his voice monotone as he desperately tried to keep his emotions from spilling out.

~ * ~ * ~

Mike moaned inwardly as his began coming around, feeling a sort of prickling throughout his body - tingling as if his limbs had all fallen asleep. Soon that tingling was replaced with pain - minimal at first, but easily climbing at a quickening pace. He knew he'd been hurt, but for the life of him he couldn't remember how. Or where.

Soon the pain intensified, and he began trying to assess his injuries, paying attention to each muscle that ached, and he wondered how many bones were broken. He couldn't breathe very well, and he focused on his chest, feeling as if something was pressed against it. Trying to move, he found the action impossible, totally confined in the darkness of wherever he was.

That darkness was the first thing Chet noticed, then pain. Unbearable pain shot up his right leg when he tried moving around a little, trying to feel his way with his limbs in the blackness. But other than his right arm, he wasn't able to move anything. He wondered where he was, the darkened dampness reminding him of a movie he'd watched not too long ago with a monster in a swamp … 'no, no, don't think about the movie, figure out what's going on' he prompted himself, trying to focus. He couldn't remember what brought him to this place - was he at work?

He remembered Roy, his nose bloody and face swollen, and grimaced - not from pain, but from the pain he caused. He then remembered Marco, his head slamming into the door he held open - that sound when Marco's head made impact because he was too stupid to realize … no, this wasn't getting him anywhere. He tried to clear his rambling thoughts, focus on what was going on now. Instead he saw the Captain's face, blood streaking down his cheekbone from the glass he'd managed to break out of anger. No, Cap was okay - they all were okay now, no thanks to him though, he thought.

Then it finally dawned on him where he was. Flashing sequences of the building's collapse ran through his mind as he remembered. Then an other memory hit, causing him to scream.

"Mike!"

~ * ~ * ~

Chet thought about Mike getting hit by the nozzle the other day, or was it today? He couldn't remember, but he knew it was thanks to him jerking the hose they'd been hanging, and then everything that had just happened came at him like a bolt of lightning.

He remembered the rumbling beneath him, similar to an earthquake. He remembered the hose that he dropped, shooting water everywhere and knocking him down. He remembered pieces of the burning building falling around him, and then he remembered the building was collapsing. The next flash of memory that crowded Chet's over-loaded thoughts was that of Mike running towards him, ignoring his own danger as he ran to help his friend.

"Mike! Mike! Can you hear me buddy?"

"Yeah, Chet," Mike offered, his voice raspy as the words struggled out. "I hear you just fine. How are you doing - you okay?"

"Can't tell. Feels like a building fell on me," Chet grinned at his own joke, then grimaced as pain shot up his right leg again, then another pain seemed to rip within his chest. He didn't even realize he'd moaned outloud.

"Chet? You still with me?" Mike's voice told his panic easily.

"Sure. You know me. How 'bout you? Where are you hurt?"

"Don't know. Can't feel anything definite, so maybe I'm okay," Mike paused, waiting for Chet to say something. When he didn't, Mike prompted the conversation. "Where do you hurt, Chet?"

"I think my right leg's broke, and my chest hurts a little … got a good headache, too. I just wish I could move around a little," he said, trying his hardest to move the ground above him. He succeeded in moving his right arm a little more. But that motion seemed to cause the rubble above them to shift slightly, making both men hold their breaths, wondering what that movement would cause.

"Maybe you shouldn't try moving around, Chet." Mike said quietly, making Chet grin at the dry humor.

~ * ~ * ~

Marco had taken the lead, calling out to the two missing firemen as he and several other men worked at clearing the debris. The fire still roared behind them, but that was no longer their priority now. There were plenty of firemen to work the now contained beast.

Captain Stanley worked as feverishly as Marco, as did all the men, hoping against hope that their efforts were not in vain. Dwyer and Brice were also there, hoping they'd be able to reach Chet and Mike soon, and both hoping they weren't too late.

Suddenly Marco's head came up as he stood, motioning for everyone to stop what they were doing and be quiet.

"Did you hear that, Cap?"

The Captain shook his head negatively as they continued their silence. Then he heard it, too. Voices. Voices not coming from the fire site, but coming from almost beneath them.

"Chet! Mike!" Captain Stanley yelled as loud as he could, hoping they were hearing what they prayed they were.

"Cap!"

"That's Mike!" Marco yelled as he looked around at everyone, his hope rising.

"Mike, we're almost at you," the Captain yelled, "How are you guys doing?"

"Don't know, Cap - Chet was talking to me a few minutes ago - but he's not talking now." Mike didn't mention his own aches and pains, they were quickly forgotten when Chet became quiet.

"It's okay - we're almost there. Do you feel any more pressure on you than before?"

"No, it's about the same."

"Okay Pal, just hang in there - help's on the way," the Captain said with relief - at least they now knew that the weren't crushing the men with their own added weight on top of the building's pieces. He'd seen them when the building's side fell and thought he judged their location fairly well, but if he'd been only a few inches off, he knew they could hurt them worse than the injuries they'd already sustained.

The firemen's pace quickened as they got further and further down, hearing Mike's voice as it became clearer with their efforts.

Chet hadn't been heard from since they'd made contact with Mike, and the men worked feverishly, knowing this couldn't be good.

Marco and Hank exchanged concerned glances now and then, both knowing each others worried thoughts.

Chapter Seventeen

As the fire flitted and sputtered it's last hold on the now almost extinguished building, more men gathered around, using their flashlights to keep the rescue area lit through the debris where spotlights didn't reach. It wasn't long before Mike had been uncovered and stokes were brought over to retrieve his bruised body. Brice was right there, taking his vitals before allowing him to be lifted out from his temporary tomb.

"Chet - he should be right beside me - he was over to my left when we went down," Mike announced, wanting his friend retrieved rather than the attention focused on him.

"Stoker, I can't take your vitals correctly if you keep talking and moving around," Brice stated, eager to begin treating his patient. "The sooner I know you're stable, the sooner I can get you moved out of here."

Brice was ever-so stunned when Mike's hand grasped at his uniform shirt, pulling the man down towards him. "As far as you're concerned, I'm stable," Mike hissed through gritted teeth. "Now get me out of here so they can get to Chet."

Brice didn't heed the threat, but quickly assessed his patient and Mike was pulled out carefully and placed in the stokes, clearing the pile that had held him captive.

Marco had kept his eyes on Mike while still working on clearing the mess on top of Chet. He knew how worried Mike was about Chet too, and seeing him ready to battle Brice for the precious seconds he was using made him worry that much more.

"Chet said he thought his right leg was broken and his chest hurt - he said his head hurt too," Mike said raggedly, letting Captain Stanley know what to look for when they got to Chet.

As if on cue, Marco was yelling: "I've got him! I've got him! He's got a pulse - Dwyer!" The paramedic was already beside him, checking his patient before the last word passed Marco's mouth.

~ * ~ * ~

Captain Stanley was nervously turning the HT in his left hand while rubbing his temples with his right. He watched Brice assessing Mike's condition, which seemed to be okay, while at the same time watched as Chet's lifeless form was pulled out of the dripping pile of burnt rubble. His head moved back and forth like he was watching a tennis match.

Soon Chet’s stokes were set down beside Mike’s, and all eyes were upon them, watching and praying.

Marco watched as Dwyer checked Chet over. Brice joined in, satisfied that Mike was in good condition, and sensing Chet wasn't.

Hank listened as Dwyer got on the line to Rampart. He recognized Dr. Brackett's voice, feeling grateful that the head of emergency was answering the call. Then he listened as Chet's condition was called in - broken right fibula. Large laceration above the left temple with probable concussion. At least four ribs broken in the upper right quadrant. Distention in the lower abdomen. And the patient was comatose.

Mike had been placed on a stretcher, but his Captain didn't notice. Mike barely noticed himself - too busy listening to Chet's vitals being called in just like the Captain and the rest of the men standing there.

Marco looked like he was going into shock. He went to wipe the sweat from his forehead and noticed his trembling hand, quickly bringing it back down.

First Mike, then Chet were loaded into the ambulance after all IVs and splints were in place.

Captain Stanley barely felt the hand that gently squeezed his shoulder, his worry so concentrated.

"Hank, I've already stood down the station. You and Marco ride in with the ambulance and I'll be there in a little while to check on the guys. When we know they'll be okay, I'll give you two a ride back to the station, and you can go home from there," the Chief said gently, knowing these men were a family of their own.

"You're taking the station out of service?" the Captain asked, tired and worn from worry.

"Well Hank," the Chief said, motioning towards engine 51, "I don't think she'll be going anywhere tonight."

The Captain turned around and looked at his engine, covered in debris from the fallen wall. His jaw fell open, just now realizing that Big Red had taken a few blows of her own.

"Yeah, okay Chief, uh, thanks."

~ * ~ * ~

Mike had a bruised larynx, a mild concussion, and his left pinky finger was sprained. All in all, he'd faired well considering a wall had just fallen on him. He'd been sent to a room on the same floor as Roy and John. He'd also been warned that, concussion or not, if he didn't calm down his anxiety over Chet, he would be given a light sedative if necessary. Given good bed rest and barring any complications, he was expected to be able to return to work in a few days.

Chet's condition was complicated. Besides his obvious fractures and serious concussion, he definitely had some internal abdominal bleeding, and even though Dr. Brackett didn't think surgery was necessary at the time for it, he did deem it necessary for the punctured lung. But as Chet was being rolled upstairs, he told Marco and Hank that he was optimistic - the injuries were easily repairable. His main concern was the coma. But the fireman's vitals were stable, and he was healthy, and with any luck …

'With any luck.' The words echoed through Marco's mind, thinking how ironic this had all become so quickly. Here Chet was thinking he was the unluckiest thing to hit station 51 in ages, and now his life was depending on that very same 'luck'.

Chapter Eighteen

When Hank woke up, not only did he find Marco asleep in the chair beside him, looking very uncomfortable in the twisted position he held, but he also found Chief McConnikee asleep across from him, also looking displaced in the small chair. Both had blankets on them, and as he became more aware, he noticed that a blanket had been draped across him as well.

He checked his watch, blinking a couple of times to read it. 3:45am. He stretched, regretting his move as the vinyl chair voiced its complaint, squeaking loudly.

Standing, he stretched again then walked over to the door, peeking out into the almost deserted hallway. Spying Dixie, he carefully opened the door enough to allow him an exit, then quietly stepped over to the nurse's desk.

"Any word on Chet yet?" he asked hopefully, his voice deep from sleep.
Dixie shook her head 'no'. She looked as tired as Hank felt, but he didn't voice that opinion.

"When did the Chief get here?" he asked, knowing she probably talked to him; betting she was the one who'd placed the blankets on all of them.

"He got here a couple of hours ago. We walked in and saw you and Marco asleep, and he decided to wait with you guys in the lounge. Wasn't long after that that he was asleep, too."

She tried to stifle a yawn, but wasn't too successful. She smiled at Hank, apologizing. "Sorry. My shift was over more than a few hours ago, but I just couldn't leave. Hey, let's say you and I go scrounge up some fresh coffee?"

~ * ~ * ~

Marco awoke to a cramp in his leg, and stretched it out absently as he looked around, figuring out where he was.

He noticed the Chief sleeping across from him as he stood, stretching his pained leg as best he could.

Looking around a bit more, he realized that Captain Stanley was gone. What if he'd gotten news on Chet? What if the news was bad, and he didn't want to wake them and tell them before getting himself composed?

The panic rose within him as his thoughts had him thinking the worst. Walking briskly towards the doors of the lounge, he grabbed at the handle.

At that very same moment, Kel Brackett was entering the lounge, tired and sweaty in his surgical scrubs. He pushed the door open, straight into Marco.

'Damn. Not again,' Marco thought. What he said wasn't quite as nice. Then he found himself apologizing to the doctor.

"It's okay, Marco. Are you alright?"

Marco thought about it for only a second, not caring if his fingers were broken or not at the moment. "I'm fine. How's Chet?"

"Where's Hank at?" Kel asked looking around the room, noticing Chief McConnikee as he awoke, standing quickly and walking over towards them.

"I don't know. I woke up and he was gone. I thought maybe he'd heard some news … "

"What news?" the Captain interjected, he and Dixie walking quickly towards the doctor standing in the half-opened doorway of the lounge.

Kel waited until everyone was standing around him before smiling. "He came through the surgery just fine," he said, taking off the skull cap he'd just thought of.

"You were in there longer than you thought you'd be though, weren't you?" Hank asked, wondering if any complications had arisen.

"What about the coma, Doc?" Marco asked, his worry still clearly visible.

The good doctor looked at all the worried faces surrounding him, his tired grin still there. "His surgery went just fine, no problems there. I just stayed around to wait and see if his vitals improved. Once we got some fluids in him and replenished his blood supply, his vitals came right back up." He looked around at everyone. "I think he's going to be just fine."

Marco's smile threatened to split his face in two. "Yes!" he hollered, a bit more loudly than he intended to. But instead of being scorned by the group, they all just laughed happily, feeling suddenly rejuvenated.

~ * ~ * ~

Four days later, Roy, Johnny, Hank, Mike, and Marco all gathered into Chet's private room, breaking all the rules as they came to visit the healing fireman after their shift.

"How're you feeling there, Chet?" the Captain asked, happy to see the color back in his friend's face again.

"Great, Cap, just great. Dr. Brackett says I can probably leave here in a few days if I keep healing so well. Says I've got really good genes," he added with a proud grin.

"Shame they couldn't fix you up like they did the engine, Chet," Mike said quickly, "then they could've had you back to new in only a couple of days."
The men chuckled. Leave it to Mike to compare Chet's injuries with his beloved engines.

"How long before you're back at work?" Marco asked - immediately regretting his words, remembering Chet's decision to resign right before the accident. Until now, that subject hadn’t been touched upon.

The room suddenly became very quiet, unnerving the crew somewhat. It seemed that everyone was holding their breath, waiting for his answer.

"Well, guys, I was thinking. If you'll have me, the Doc says I could be back at work in about four weeks, all I gotta do is let this leg heal real good," he said, knocking his knuckles against the cast.

Hank smiled. "Of course we'll have you, ya twit!" he answered for himself and his crew, laughing. "But I have to ask, what made you change your mind?"

"What mind?" Johnny mumbled, not one to miss a friendly nudge when the opportunity arrived.

Hank shot Johnny a stern look before returning his gaze to Chet, his eyebrows raised as he waited for the answer to his question.

"You guys wouldn't believe me if I told ya," Chet answered, looking around.

"Sure we would," Roy told him quickly.

"Yeah, Chet," Marco agreed, "Go ahead. Tell us."

"Well, you know, when you're sitting here in the hospital twiddling your thumbs, you get to meet a lot of interesting people on staff."

"And?" the Captain asked, not appreciating Chet's dramatic pause.

"And, I met this real nice lady the other day named Cleo. She's been a volunteer here for like twenty years. Anyway, she's originally from Jamaica. You know, those ladies have a kinda sixth sense about things that us common folk don't have a grasp on … "

"Your point, Chet?" Hanks tone sounding a bit impatient.

"Yeah, well, she and I were talking, and I was feeling kind of down, and I ended up telling her about how I felt like I was the company jinx. I told her about all the things that had happened to you guys because of me, and you know what she did?"

He waited for someone to ask, and finally Roy did, wanting to hear the end of this story.

"She told me that I was in here because I ended up getting hurt worse than the rest of you guys did! Isn't that amazing?" Chet asked, clearly taken by Cleo's powers of perception.

"Why is that, Chet?" Johnny asked skeptically.

"Because Gage, she knew without me telling her!"

"Or she read your chart," Marco interjected with his own hint of sarcasm.

"Ah, but the chart may tell what injuries you have, but it doesn't tell how they happened, and even if it did, she never read it because I would have seen her," he answered defensively.

"Okay," Marco stated, "Maybe she guesses good. What's the point to this, Chet?"

"Well, she told me that sometimes luck will turn on you and bad luck is famous for it. You know, I was having a pretty lucky streak there for a while before the accidents started happening, Anyway, she said that when the luck turns, the only way to reverse it is if something bad happens to the person that the bad luck has centered around. And since I've been hurt worse than all of you, the spell is broken!"

"Aww Chet," Johnny spoke up, "you don't believe that malarkey, do you?"

"Well, I normally wouldn't. But when I was skeptical, she told me that she could tell me by looking at my palm who my last girlfriend was - and she did! I'm telling ya guys, it's the truth! She told me my last girlfriend's name was Judy and that we broke up because I tried to tune her car up and ended up messing it up worse than it was and, well, let's just say everything she told me was right on the money."

"So." The Captain began, shaking his head in disbelief, "does this mean you're staying?"

"Yeah Cap - if you'll let me. And if the Chief lets me."

"All that's taken care of. Chief McConnikee said everything that happened was accidental, and that's the official word. He also said he wasn’t considering your talk of resigning unless he had it in writing on his desk.” The Captain smiled. “It's good to have you back, Chet."

They all smiled at their perfect ending.

~ * ~ * ~

Everyone had left Chet when Dixie scooted them out from the room, and they talked until they went outside, happily going home for a good day's rest.

After the other guys had pulled out, Roy and Johnny stood out there in the sunshine, the warmth of it feeling wonderful with the clash of a cool breeze.

Leaning against John's Land Rover, they smiled at one another before Roy spoke.

"So Junior, when do you think you'll tell Chet about talking Cleo into lying to him about that whole Jamaican deal to make him think his unlucky days were over?"

"Oh, I don't know, Roy. I thought maybe I'd wait a few months until the Phantom was back in full swing again. The way I look at it, when he's gotten me with one of his stupid water bombs, I'll lay it on him, and then get the last laugh for myself."

The End