A/N: Emergency! belongs to Mark VII and Universal. Continuing thanks to Enfleurage: She read; she beta'd; she rocks.
This story follows Coping Mechanisms and The Phantom Returns.
Marco and the Man Upstairs
Chapter 1
December 18th
"So, Marco - last night was the second night of Las Posadas, how'd it go?"
"No quiero hablar de eso. Leave it alone, Chet." Marco punctuated this with a slammed locker door, before walking out of the room.
John and Roy turned to Chet for an explanation as they finished changing into uniform. "What was that about?"
"I don't know, guys." Chet's gaze centered on the locker room door as it swung closed. "'Posada' is Spanish for 'inn' or 'shelter'. Las Posada is celebrated the nine nights before Christmas. It's a procession of people representing Mary and Joseph's search for a place to stay. There's been one on Olvera Street downtown since, like the 1930's. " Chet brought a foot up on the bench to tie his shoe. "Marco's family's been going on the 17th of December since they moved here on that day back when he was a kid. It's a huge family tradition. If he has to pull a shift on the 17th, then most of them try to go a second time on his day off. I went with them last year. Man, I hope he didn't stand 'em up last night."
Captain Stanley paused in front of his men, clipboard in hand.
"John has made the suggestion that we purchase and/or procure donations of stuffed animals, specifically stuffed Dalmatian dogs to keep on hand for our youngest victims, in memory of Missy Chandler."
He paused to allow the men a moment as they chimed in all at once with their agreements and suggestions.
"Okay, pipe down. I'll take that as a resounding unanimous vote to pursue the project."
Hank pulled out a copy of a newspaper, and the subsequent "piping down" that was instantly accomplished did not surprise him in the least.
"Now, about the article in the special interest section of Sunday's paper highlighting a certain fire crew's off duty activities. There were three copies waiting on my desk, not to mention the phone call I got Monday morning from HR or the visit I got Monday afternoon from Chief McConnike or the packet of photos a neighbor sent me."
His men all moved to get a look at the photos their captain was waving, but each stepped back in line after catching the look on his face.
Hank paced a moment in front of his men. "Once on that roof was not enough for you fellas? Roy, I should have guessed that was what you wanted to borrow my tall ladder for. Who did you hijack the rest of the equipment from? And is that our Bambi sporting a red nose perched 'up on the rooftop'?"
"Gage had some of it and we borrowed a few harnesses and a spare roof ladder from the station...we did asked first. We followed safety procedures, and were real careful, honest, Cap. And you know he couldn't finish putting those lights up himself, what with his bum leg, and all. So we thought we'd help him surprise his wife, and besides, it is Christmas time..." Chet sputtered to a pause. "Bambi volunteered," he added helpfully.
"Okay, I appreciate what you men did, I really do. But I don't suppose you could give me a heads up next time - just so I could be prepared with a better response than 'Gee, Chief, I dunno.' And Kelly, show me in the training manual where it outlines the correct procedure for stringing Christmas lights or diagrams the proper placement of inflatable Disney characters. Maybe I could have a squad on standby whenever you men get the urge to mess around on an extracurricular roof, just to be on the safe side." Hank paused to let the seriousness of that statement sink in.
There was a single moment of silence before Mike asked, "Can I have a spare copy of the article for my mom?" The men broke ranks to crowd around, vying to have a peek at the pictures. Hank sighed, and fell to muttering as he took himself off to the kitchen for a bracing cup of coffee.
A few hours later, after chore assignments were done, the tones sounded and both paramedics rose in response with the rest of the crew. They sank back to their seats when the tones only called for the engine.
The men of Engine 51 found themselves dousing a smoldering mattress lying under the stairway of an abandoned-and-now-condemned apartment building.
Mike shut down the pump, and moved to lend Chet a hand rolling up the booster hose.
Marco took hold of a corner of the mattress to tug it out to the curb for garbage pick up. He whirled around just in time to catch the dervish that hurled herself at him. They went down together and Marco had to twist his body to guide her to the soaked mattress. He fell half on, half off with a "whoof" of exhaled air and cracked his elbow on the pavement. His attacker rolled away only to rise to her knees and throw herself on him again, shrieking, "My baby! Where is my baby? Help, help! He took my baaabeee!"
Mike and Chet rushed to pulled her off, holding the struggling woman at arms' length due to the rank odor that was almost stomach turning even from that distance. Cap gave Marco a hand up as his lineman straightened, rubbing his elbow. "You alright there, pal?"
"Gracious, si, Cap. I didn't whack it that hard," Marco answered as he turned to move back under the steps.
"Ma'am, there's a baby? Where did you see it last?" Captain Stanley asked as he began to search the area where the mattress had been when they first arrived.
"Oh no, oh no, oh no! There was a fire?" The lady collapsed to her knees, sobbing. "My baby-my baby-my baby was burned in a fire!"
Cap and Marco started a thorough search for any signs of an infant. Chet joined in once he was sure Mike had the distraught woman contained. The men were methodical as they sifted through stacks of garbage-filled bags and cardboard boxes.
Marco eventually came up with a doll in a tattered footy night-gown. "Cap, do you suppose this is what she..."
The woman broke away from Mike's restraining hand and snatched the doll away. "Get your filthy wetback-beaner hands offa my baby!"
Mike took a step further back as if she had physically taken a swing at his head. Chet released a hiss from between his teeth and they both moved to stand between the distasteful woman and Marco, facing her with stony looks of disapproval.
Marco pushed between his crew mates. "Firefighter Marco Lopez, ma'am." He handed her the ratty diaper bag he had unearthed from a dark corner under the stairs. "Why don't we move out where the air is fresher for you and your baby?" He motioned with a jerk of his head towards the engine as he turned to grab a yellow blanket from a side compartment.
By the time Marco reached the rear bumper where Mike and Chet had parked his attacker, they both had their backs turned to the engine. Chet was studying the ends of his boots like they were engraved with next week's winning lottery numbers. Mike seemed to be calculating the angles of the crisscrossing vapor trails above his head. "Mom" was nursing her "baby" as she hummed a medley of lullabies. Cap was standing off to the side, holding the HT to an ear, deep in conversation. Marco deftly shook out the blanket to fold it over her shoulders. He reached into a side compartment to grab one of the larger shop towels and draped it over the woman's shoulder and the doll's head.
The contented mama beamed up at him. Marco happened to look over at Stoker and caught the engineer's narrowed eyes as he considered the towel Marco had chosen. Marco figured he would hear about that later, seeing as how the shop towel was one of those that Stoker brought from home to use to buff the engine, preferring their lint free absorbability. The mom and baby seemed to appreciate its extra softness. Marco stole another glance at Mike only to meet his gaze...yep, he was definitely gonna hear about this one. He turned back to the woman who had just given his turnout an attention-seeking tug.
"Perhaps you aren't a beaner?" she asked, peering up hopefully. She put the doll over her shoulder and vigorously thumped its plastic back.
"Firefighter, Ma'am. Marco Lopez."
He sat near her on the bumper. "Ma'am, have you and your baby been in the neighborhood long?"
The woman stood and began pacing with the doll still slung over her shoulder. "She's been having a lot of the colic lately."
Marco tried again. "Where were you staying before you ah, moved here? Is there someone we can call?"
A resounding silence met his questions. He waited for an answer from the pacing woman. He waited for the paramedics or whomever else Cap had called to come and take over, certain someone else, almost anyone else would be better equipped to deal with the woman. He realized part of his discomfort came from feeling a little guilty that he would be relieved to be finished with this duty and be able to take a deep breath through his nose. So they waited in what became an almost companionable, but not entirely comfortable silence. He stood and leaned a shoulder against the back of the engine.
Across the rear of the rig, six feet out, the tempo of her stride increased. She pivoted, retraced her steps yet again, crossing in front of Marco. The doll's back was taking one heck of a beating.
"'Bout a week now, me and Bethie have been all on our own - all alone. Don't need nobody, no-how. We surely don't need anything from those bossy folks over at the mission. Rules for every little thing, 'Time to eat.' 'Don't smoke, your body is a temple.' 'Time to sleep.' 'Wake up, Wake up, Wake UP!' 'Time to pray.' Does it really matter if you believe? No, it does not. Better pray if you are hungry, though. Hungry. Am I hungry? Why, yes - I do believe I could eat a bite."
She turned to rummage through the shopping cart Chet had retrieved from where she had abandoned it in the center of the street when she first mounted her rescue of her "baaabeee!" and triumphantly uncovered a partially flattened Chinese take-out box. She pulled a fork out of a cavernous sweater pocket and dug in, stopping once to offer Marco a bite of noodles dangling off the tines.
"There, there baby," the woman crooned, mostly between bites. Bethie remained silent, tucked high under an arm. It reminded a silent Marco of a football hold, except he thought a quarterback would probably have at least one hand on the ball, and not be eating whatever was being served out of that box. "We're never, never going back, don't cry, baby."
"Bethie, honey, listen to your mama. Some folk'll profess a great big faith when everything is all hunky-dory. Walking clueless, righteous folk. Bossy, bossy 'don't smoke in bed' folk."
"Now don't get me wrong; ain't nothin' wrong with having a faith." The woman's face took on a fervent look, and tucking the paper carton deep in the shopping cart, she turned to face the mostly empty street and flung her arms wide. Bethie, still clutched by an arm, swung wide too and Marco caught himself before he reached out in reflexive alarm.
"People of the jury. When life gives you lemons, do you buck-the-fuck-up and bloom where you are cast out?" Her voice rose and fell in pitch and volume. "Do you hide yourself under a basket? Do you pull yourself up by the bootstraps?"
A lone pair of women crossed to the other side of the street a block away.
The impassioned orator paused to mutter "'Got no boots," as she bent to examine the sad state of one of her sandals.
"Oh ye of little faith," her strident voice rose again to address her retreating congregation. "When life dumps a load on you, do your convictions flee? When you have been hurt, hurt deep, then will you look us in the eyeballs and be able to say you still trust your God?"
Her gaze snapped to the disheveled doll she still held at arm's length. "That'd be the kind of faith you could respect, baby girl," she ended in a quiet voice as she cuddled the doll close again to straighten the shop towel.
"Here, I need you to babysit for a minute." She thrust the doll into Marco's arms, while she set to patting pockets and digging through the shopping cart again to produce a lone cigarette and a lighter. "Be back in a bit. You shouldn't smoke around babies, it stunts their growth." She paused for a moment to consider Marco. "That means you too. No smoking while you're watching Bethie."
Marco accepted the doll. "No ma'am, I don't smoke, so..."
The woman stepped up to his side and tugged on his turnout coat and motioned for him to lean down. "You don't need to lie to me about smoking," she said in a stage-whisper that got the rest of the engine crew's immediate attention. "Who am I to call the kettle black? But I gotta tell you, it seems strange that your friends don't already know. I can smell it on you a mile away. You absolutely reek of tar and nicotine."
Marco looked up when Mike and Chet both chose that moment to whirl away and disappear. They didn't go far. He could easily pinpoint their exact location from the muffled snorts coming from the front of the rig. Cap was suspiciously turned away from them as well, and Marco felt a smidgen betrayed by his commander's shaking shoulders.
She returned from her smoke break a few steps away and took up her childcare duties again.
She finished burping the doll, then began changing it. She handed Marco the diaper pins followed by an empty baby powder bottle. He held each item in turn and ignored the grins on Mike's and Chet's faces as they moved around the scene, stowing gear and finishing reeling in the hose.
"Amelia Mary Earhart," she offered her hand in a formal introduction. "Thank you for rescuing my baby, Fireman Mark. You were so very brave." Her eyes widened in horror. "Oh my, was she hurt? Bethie my baby! Are you hurt?" The woman tore open the wrappings. "Ooooo look at your tiny toes. My baby-my baby-my baby has fifth degree burns on her little toesies. Call an ambulance, Call a doctor!"
Cap crouched a few feet in front of the distraught woman, trying to stay up wind.
"Ambulance is on the way Ma'am, paramedics too. They'll get you to the hospital where a doctor can take a look." The woman was sobbing while she rocked the doll frantically. Mike retrieved a roll of gauze from the first aid kit under a jump seat and tossed it to the lineman sitting next to her.
"Hold her leg like so, Madre." Marco demonstrated so he could bandage up the scorched and partially melted toes. The moment the last wrap was anchored, the woman fell into a hiccup-punctuated silence and allowed Marco to re-bundle the doll and hand it back to her.
Squad 116 arrived moments later. Paramedics Peterson and Weile gathered a set of vitals and contacted Rampart. The men of 51 bundled up the contents of the shopping cart under the direction and eagle eye of the patient.
After some discussion off to the side, they decided to leave the shopping cart itself behind as it would not easily fit into the back of the Ambulance. The ambulance drivers also had a few things to say about transporting stolen goods, pointing out that the cart clearly belonged to Gold's Quality Food Mart, as evidenced by the placard affixed to its front proudly proclaiming that very fact.
The firemen each held their already guarded breath as the cart was unobtrusively parked back in the alleyway, steeling themselves for the woman's reaction. The tongue-lashing they expected was never delivered as an oblivious Amelia snoozed soundly on the gurney without pharmaceutical aid.
"Captain Stanley? Could you let your guys know that social services will meet us in ER and Bracket has called in a psych consult?" Peterson asked as he hopped into the back of the ambulance before they lifted the stretcher in behind him.
Cap closed the door with an "all clear" double slap, and a grateful, deep breath. "Weile, could you take a look at Marco's elbow, he cracked it pretty hard back there."
Chet swung up into the cab after finishing dragging the mattress to the curb. "Hey, you okay pal?"
"Yeah, just hit my funny bone is all."
"She was something, man. I'm sorry about what she said back there."
"Chet, she liked me just fine once she got to know my charming self."
"Yeah, I noticed how she warmed right up to you 'Mark'."
The linemen were interrupted by a burst of lights and siren as Mike turned the ignition key. A moan/growl hybrid slipped from the engineer's lips as he swiftly reached to flip a switch. Startled looks from pedestrians walking by elicited another sound of displeasure. "How the hell did those two manage it this time? That's three times now, four, if you count the time I caught it last week before actually turning the key. Cap, I'm sorry. I've been trying to keep an eye out whenever we get a run with any of the guys from 116, but either Weile or Peterson must have slipped past me."
"'Not your fault, Stoker. I'm thinking it's time we have a shift meeting back at the station to discuss the subject of retribution."
Chet turned to Marco to continue their interrupted discussion. "So it doesn't bother you at all? Because it sure bugged the hell out of me."
"Chet, she was breastfeeding a plastic doll. I'd hardly call that a teachable moment. And it's Christmas, remember? Let it rest, amigo. This lady, she wasn't exactly rational. That makes it a bit easier not to take things personally."
"So, you're saying that you need to consider the source?"
Marco refrained from answering that question right away, because he was considering the source and knew to be wary when Chet got the gleam in his eye that he was presently wearing.
"So, it'd be okay for me to call you, oh let's say, a loco Hispanic hombre - considering how I'm your friend and all?"
Marco shot back, "That, and it would be a mistake to ever accuse you of being particularly rational, you blithering bog-trotter."
Cap threw a horrified look at Mike's grinning face.
"What? Don't look at me, I'm a dyed-in-the-wool, card-carrying, Yankee Doodle mutt. I got no stones to throw."
From the rear came a laughter-laced "Say, Mikey, that would make you a Heinz 57 mix wouldn't it?"
"Hush, Lucky Charms, you'll hurt the mongrel's feelings," Marco chided his friend with mock sincerity.
"Don't call me Mikey."
"Enough!" came the strained command from the front seat.
It took nearly the entire ride back to the station for the teary-eyed linemen to settle down enough to take even breaths. Hank was just grateful that his engineer seemed to be able to drive in a straight line.
Mike backed the engine into the bay. "Looks like the squad is back." He elbowed Marco as they shrugged out of their turnout coats. "You were quite handy with that diaper back there, Uncle Marco. You owe me a chamois cloth. I call first shower since I need to get lunch going."
"Well you did fine, Marco, real fine." Cap clapped him on the shoulder as they walked through the kitchen door and towards the day room.
Chet breezed into the kitchen, past the two paramedics seated at the table, and headed for the coffee pot. "Second shower!"
"Only if I can't beat your pokey butt to it, Potato Head!" Marco whirled back towards the door.
"Time out, time out you, you...cheater." Chet set his mug down to follow his friend out of the kitchen. "Never mind, be my guest. I forgot how much you 'absolutely reek.'"
Cap, plopped down on the couch to rub Henry behind an ear and looked over at Roy and John's perplexed faces
"Don't ask, guys - just don't ask." He rose and retreated to his office and shut the door, grateful for a few moments of sanctuary from his shift's shenanigans.