Not too sure how I came up with this. I haven't even seen the fifth and sixth seasons yet, but I've read enough about them to be able to hopefully write this effectively. It's kind of short, but I hope you like it anyway.

"He's probably been planning something all along," The tired men of A-shift easily recognized the source of the soft mumbling that carried across the dark dormroom. Cap was at it again, tossing and turning and muttering to himself about his suspicions of Chief McConikee.

"Maybe he's letting me sweat it out." Hank muttered. "Maybe that's his way of getting revenge—letting me think he's planning something so I'll worry about it."

"If that's the case, then he's doing a really good job with it." Chet whispered to Marco. Hank, either not hearing or not paying attention, made no comment on Chet's statement, but instead continued with his wild speculations.

No one suffered from the Captain's paranoia more than Mike, as his bed was only a few feet away from Hank's, and Mike didn't have the advantage of a brick wall between himself and Cap, to dull the sound, as the others did.

"Maybe he's conspiring with my mother-in-law. Yeah, maybe he got ahold of her somehow and they're both plotting against me."

Mike groaned and pulled his pillow over his head. Hank didn't notice.

"Maybe he's gonna trick me into going on some reality show and then he'll tell everyone in the world—on live TV!—what I did."

Where does he come up with this stuff? Mike thought incredulously, wondering if his best friend was losing it.

"Maybe he—" Mike didn't hear what followed. He was already on his way to the dayroom to get a glass of water.

A few minutes later, water glass in hand, Mike reluctantly headed back to the dayroom, grabbing a banana off the table as he walked past. Maybe a midnight snack could help him get to sleep in the midst of his Captain's paranoia.

Mike reentered the dormroom and set the water glass on the nightstand. He then sat down on his bunk in a cross-legged position and prepared to eat his banana.

He stopped just before peeling it and looked over at Hank, who was still staring off into space, muttering.

Seeing now that Hank was looking in his direction, Mike tilted his head back and delicately balanced the banana upright on his nose.

Hank continued his rambling.

Mike jerked his head a little farther back, simultaneously bringing his chin up and sending the banana into the air. It flipped over once and landed on his nose once more.

Hank, barely five feet away from Mike, still did not notice this highly impressive stunt, despite the fact that he was looking right at his engineer, but instead continued to vocalize his increasingly wild notions.

At that moment the alarm sounded. Station 51, Structure fire, 7932 Westwood. 7-9-3-2, Westwood. Cross Street Market, time out 0256.

Mike dropped the banana onto the nightstand as he and the others jumped up and scrambled into their turnouts. Hank acknowledged the call from the bedside microphone, then turned to follow his crewmates into the bay.

He stopped suddenly and caught Mike's arm. "Hey," he said, gesturing towards the nightstand with a questioning look on his face.

Any suspicions that Mike had made about Hank losing his sanity were confirmed by the Captain's next words.

"Where'd the banana come from?"