Climbing down from the rig, Hank Stanley hung his turnout coat on the side mirror and wearily walked into the kitchen. The shift was proving to be a long one. He'd lost count of the number of runs they had responded to after the tenth. Reaching the coffee pot, he poured himself and Marco Lopez, who stood beside him, each a cup. He managed to make it to a chair and plop himself down. Looking about the room, he noticed the faces of his fellow firefighters mirrored his own.

His engineer, Mike Stoker, looked about ready to drop to his knees. Hank couldn't remember a time when he'd seen Mike work so hard to help the shift's two paramedics as he did on this run. The man had to be tired. Why the engine had been called out to this rescue before the squad he'd never know. The only reason he could figure, was the information given to dispatch had proven incorrect. Mike must have worked on the young boy, giving him mouth to mouth, for at least twenty minutes before Roy and Johnny had shown up.

Looking over to his two linemen, he saw the pain on Chet's face, as he sat at the table staring into space. What he was thinking, Hank wasn't sure. The Phantom often times proved to be an enigma. One could never truly figure out was going on inside of that head of his.

Marco looked lost, not knowing what to do with himself. Since entering the room only minutes before, the man had open and closed the refrigerator door twice, sitting at the table in between each venture. He was once again seated at the table, this time with his head resting on his hands. His coffee forgotten.

Hank looked towards the ceiling, saying a small prayer for the young victim. After fifteen years of fire service, he realized life wasn't fair, but today more than any other, Hank hoped for a positive outcome. How could this have happened? It didn't make sense. It was incomprehensible!

Arriving at the scene, Hank threw his engineer a quick glance. What sort of problem could possibly need the attention of four firemen at a public beach? Once his feet hit the ground, a young man ran up to the lanky captain.

"What seems to be the problem?" he asked the lifeguard.

"Young boy, about ten, nearly drowned. We've been working on him for a while now, with no luck. We're getting awful tired. There's only the two of us on at the moment."

Turning towards his men, now gathered at the front of the engine, Hank took control. "Michael, see if you can provide some help, Chet get the oxygen, Marco see if you can help Mike."

Watching as the lifeguard directed Mike and Marco to the drowning victim, Hank climbed into the rig, "L.A., Engine 51, we need a squad and an ambulance dispatched to our location."

"10-4, 51."

Spotting Chet out of the corner of his eye, the captain followed his crewmember with some difficulty. Walking on sand proved to be an arduous task while wearing regulation fire boots. By the time he reached the rest of his crew, he felt as though he'd walked five miles.

A quick thought of relieving Mike ran through Hank's head, but promptly vanished when he saw the determination on his engineer's face. There was no way Mike would give over CPR until he was good and ready, in this case, meaning near physical exhaustion.

A female lifeguard seemed to be having difficulty with a young child. Hank made his way over, asking, "What seems to be the problem here?"

"My brother! He's my brother!" the youngster pointed at the lifeless form lying in the sand.

Hank's heart dropped to his stomach. It was never easy dealing with a victims family members, but children always proved emotionally draining for the veteran captain.

Reaching out and placing his arms on the child's shoulders, Hank gave a little squeeze. "Okay, okay, it's all right. Mike is looking after your brother. Can you tell me what happened?"

"We were just playing and decided to dive into the waves, that's all. But, but, the last one was pretty big and strong…" the girl sobbed and threw herself into Hank's mid-drift.

"Are your parents here?" Hank looked around while embracing the small body.

The young girl's only response was a wild shake of her head. Hank held his quickly rising anger in check. Alone! What kind of parents would allow their children to go to a beach alone?

Hearing the sound of distant sirens getting closer, he turned his head. Relief washed over him as he recognized the red vehicle pull up beside the engine. Soon, Roy had taken over C.P.R for Mike, and Johnny had gotten Rampart General on the line. The ambulance arrived minutes after the squad and much to his relief, a police squad arrived, taking the young sister into custody and finding out all the pertinent information.

`````` 

Hearing the sound of the squad pulling into the station, Hank pulled himself out of his trance. He noticed Chet had retreated to the couch, and was now softly rubbing Henry behind the ears. The basset hound's body lay half on the stocky fireman and half on the couch. He looked up when the paramedic team entered the room, but quickly placed his head back in Chet's lap upon seeing Roy and Johnny enter the room.

Marco now held his mug against his chin. Not bothering to take a drink, his eyes followed Roy's and Johnny's every move.

Although all eyes in the room where on them, the paramedics didn't acknowledge anyone. They each pulled out a chair and silently seated themselves between Marco and their captain. No one had to ask, their demeanor said it all. It was a look and a posture the engine crew had seen many times on the faces and bodies of their crew mates. It shouted defeat. The young boy hadn't made it!

The entire crew sat for minutes without saying a word, all lost in their own worlds. The first to move was Stoker, when he walked over to the fridge and took out and apple.He walked over to the television and turned it on. 

Roy placed his hands on the table and pushed back on his chair, asking his partner if he'd like a cup of coffee. Johnny nodded in the affirmative and Hank got up to refill his own mug. After fixing it to his liking, he silently left the room, making his way to his office.

Once inside, he closed the door and sat at his desk. Pulling out his log book, he started to write his report. Try as he might, he couldn't bring himself to do it. He was tired and wanted nothing more than to go home. Looking at the clock hanging on the wall only brought a sigh. It was only a little after six o'clock in the evening. They still had over twelve hours left in their shift. He knew he should join his men and try to pull them out of their melancholy mood.

While replacing his pen to its holder, the telephone sprang to life. "Fire Station 51, Captain Hank Stanley speaking."

"Hi, Dad!" sang the voices of two teenage girls.

A genuine smile spread across his lips. "Hi, to what do I owe the pleasure of this call?"

"We wanted to apologize for missing you this morning." Came a single voice.

"Sorry." Came two.

"That's okay. Who wants to get up early and say goodbye to their father?" he teased.

"Dad!"

"What?"

"Happy Father's Day, we love you!" came the cheerful response.

"Thanks. Love you, too. You'll never know how badly I needed to hear your voices."

"No problem. Here's Mom."

"Hank?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you all right?" Cheryl Stanley knew her husband always had difficulties working on this particular Sunday.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Better now that I've talked with the girls."

"Good. See you tomorrow morning. I love you."

"Love you, too. Bye."

While replacing the receiver into its cradle, he picked up the picture of his family and ran his fingers along the cool smooth glass of the frame.

 "See you tomorrow, ladies." He said while replacing the picture to its place of honor on his desk.

Hank Stanley, quickly left the lonely confines of his office and joined his men in the other room, determined not to let the senseless death of a ten year old boy ruin this day. Two of his crewmen had children of their own. He was going to suggest they each phone home and talk to their offspring. Especially Mike. He wasn't as used to losing a victim as Roy. Not being a paramedic meant he didn't work on nearly as many victims as Roy and Johnny.

Walking into the room, Hank was happy to see some sense of normalcy returning. Johnny stood by the stove, watching over the boiling wieners, Chet continued to massage Henry, Marco and Roy had taken up a game of chess, and Mike continued to watch TV.

Taking a seat beside his trusty engineer, Hank put his arm around the man's shoulders, "My office is empty, Mike. I think you need to make a phone call."

Mike sat still for a moment before finally rising to his feet. "Thanks, Cap. Truer words were never spoken."

As he watched his second in command exit the room, Hank Stanley knew his fatherly duty towards one of his subordinates was complete. The mere act of speaking to his children would help Mike focus on the positive. Looking about the room, he realized he still had four more to go. But he knew it wouldn't be much of a challenge. Each of these men was wounded at the moment and begging for guidance. Working on Father's Day had always been difficult for all of them. Each time they were toned out, they knew a family's life would more than likely be forever changed by the events they were about to find themselves in. Sometimes those events proved to be harmless and even humorous, but more often than not, it ended in tragedy. If nothing else, he realized that by the end of the shift, somehow they would all manage to take all the negatives of others lives they'd witness in the last twelve hours, and turn them into positives in their own lives. It was the only way they could cope with the grave misfortune on a day which was suppose to have nothing but pleasant memories.

He knew when he arrived home the next morning, the first thing he would do, would be to kiss and hug his girls before they left the house for school. That, he thought to himself, was the positive of having such a mentally strenuous occupation. He never had and never would take his family for granted. He treasured each and every minute he spent with them. How he wished others could find this epiphany without having to witness the traumatic. Or live it.

Before planting himself beside fireman Chet Kelly, Hank Stanley said a small prayer for a couple of parents having to deal with the loss of their child on this day. The tragic result of perhaps a moments lapse in judgement. A Father's Day ruined for the rest of their lives. Hank truly hoped the family would find peace and could one day find the positive on this June day from here on out. He knew he certainly would.

The End.

Thanks to Audrey for the beta.

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