It had been a long day and she was fast asleep at last. Two dogs were snoozing on the floor of the bedroom, a third was stretched out on the bed next to the young woman. Then came the sound of doggie-claws on the tile floor, sniffing, and a very quiet "woof" which roused her from the depths of one crazy dream.

A few minutes later, a quiet but insistent voice pulled her closer to consciousness: "Sarah? Sarah? Hey, it's Mike. Can you wake up?" The lamp by her bed clicked on.

Another voice, whispering, "I thought her name was SaraiEsq."

"Nah, Chet, that's just her pen name," a third voice replied.

The second voice again: "How do you know that, Marco?"

"I, uh, hacked into her email account?"

"Will you two twits hush and let Mike wake her up? I mean, it's his story."

"Sure, Cap." "Sorry, Cap."

The first voice again, nearer: "Sarah? You have to finish writing it. I have to know what happens to me. Please?" There was a pause. "Hey, Roy, do you think she is sick or something? Is that why she won't wake up?"

"Let me see," another new voice said. "Hey there, miss. Can you wake up for us?" A strong hand touched her shoulder and gently shook it. "SaraiEsq? Sarah? Open your eyes for us now."

"Try a sternal rub."

"How do you propose we do that, Johnny? She's laying on her stomach and – ."

"Besides, Gage, I don't think the dogs would like that." One of the dogs on the floor looked up, fixing her amber eyes on the thin, dark-haired one. Henry had said these guys were all right but sometimes she wondered about that ole hound.

"Chet, I thought you said Henry had cleared us being here with her dogs!"

"Being here, yes. A sternal rub? Not so much, babe. I think that's outside the scope of the agreement Henry and Boot worked out for us."

The combination of voices caused her to open one eye. Roy's kind face was a few inches from hers. Without her glasses, she couldn't see the faces of the others in her room but she didn't need to; she knew the whole station had turned out this time. She closed her eye and groaned softly into the pillow.

They were back.

Willing herself to be patient, she drew a deep breath, then rolled over, scootching the dog over a bit as she did.

"Hi, guys," she said, wearily, accepting Roy's help in sitting up and Mike's proffer of her glasses.

"Hi, Sarah!" "Hey, SaraiEsq!"

"What brings you guys out this time of night?" she said with a yawn.

"Would you believe we were just in the neighborhood?" Johnny asked brightly.

"Twit!" growled Captain Stanley. "Uh, actually, miss, it's like this." He frowned slightly, then continued. "Well, you started this fanfic story about Mike Stoker here. And, well, you haven't written anything on it in a little while – about Mike, that is – and so now Mike is, uh, – ."

"Scared," supplied Johnny.

"Apprehensive would actually be a better word, Gage," Craig Brice interjected, sticking his head out from under the bed. Curious, one of the dogs on the floor walked over and licked Brice's face, causing Brice to disappear back under the bed with a shriek. The dog crouched down and tried to crawl under the bed, making little whimpering noises like she did when she got a new toy. Boot said these guys were fun and he was right! Her fuzzy tail undulated with joy.

"—he's gotten so nervous it is affecting his cooking," Cap continued undeterred by the antics under his feet. "There are lots of things we at the station can deal with, but when Stoker can't cook … well, we decided we needed to take some action."

"Ah, of course," she said. Stoker's spaghetti was amazing and his fried chicken had made her conveniently forget she was on a diet every time. No wonder the guys are upset, she thought. "So, what exactly do you want?"

"Well, can you finish the story? Or write a little more at least? It would make Mike there feel more secure knowing what happens to him," Roy asked. Mike nodded.

"That's the plan," she responded. Did they really think she'd just leave them hanging? Just because it had been a few days since she'd written anything…

"Great!" Johnny exclaimed, and flopped down on the floor. The dog with the amber eyes looked over at him and gave a wide-mouthed pant in his general direction. I'm glad Mommy gave me a breath mint after supper, the dog thought to herself. He's kinda cute.

"Thanks," Mike said to her quietly, sitting down at the foot of the bed with a relieved expression. "It's just there aren't too many stories about me on this site, so when one comes along – or starts to – I get a little excited. Sorry." The dog on the bed, a Border Collie mix by the looks of her, stood, stretched with comical thoroughness, and then delicately stepped across the bed to Mike, who immediately began rubbing her ears.

"No problem, Mike, I understand," she said, then looked around at the others, suddenly taking in the meaning behind their stances. Hank leaned against the door frame, Roy had settled his broad shoulders against the tall wardrobe. Marco and Chet were in the process of sitting down next to Johnny who was now petting the amber-eyed dog who gazed at him adoringly. "Uh, what, now?"

"Cap put us 10-8 at your house, so we can just wait here," came Chet's unconcerned reply.

"Whaddya mean, 'wait'?"

"Until you're done writing, of course," Johnny said, surprised at the question. "I mean, you don't think we are just going to leave …."

"Well, it is the middle of the night, and I was sleeping …."

"It's 4 a.m. and you should be up, Junior! C'mon, get out of bed!" Mark said loudly.

"I am awake, Ro – ," Johnny started then realized the very big man on the phone in the corner, one, was not talking to him and, two, had hung up the phone and disappeared. "Uh, who was that?"

"My older brother," Sarah said wearily. "He gets up about this time of night, day, whatever, to go to work. Yes, he refers to me as 'junior' and yes, he calls me too early in the morning on a regular basis just because he can."

"Oh."

"Guys, I promise I'll write more, but right now I have got to get some sleep. The last time I tried writing in my sleep, I musta written in a foreign language because I couldn't figure it out in the morning. And I had a feeling it was really, really good, too."

"Hey, if it was in Spanish, I can translate for you," Marco offered.

"I think it was closer to Sanskrit, Marco, but thanks," she said with a smile. "Okay, how 'bout y'all let me get some sleep and I'll hit it again as soon as I get up? Promise."

"Alright, boys, you heard the lady," Cap said. "Let's clear out and let her sleep." Johnny got up from the floor after giving the amber-eyed dog another head rub, then distracted the fuzzy-tailed dog as Marco and Chet pulled a thoroughly licked Brice out from under the bed and carried him from the room. Roy stepped over to the bed and murmured, "Sleep well now," to her before following his partner out. "C'mon now, Mike, let's go," Hank said gently to the engineer still seated at the foot of the bed. Stoker looked a little down again and Hank glanced over at SaraiEsq, Sarah, Junior, whatever her name was.

"If it's alright with you, Cap – , er, Captain Stanley, that is, I'd like to talk to Firefighter Specialist Stoker alone for a few minutes," she said, nodding slightly to let Hank know she'd gotten the message.

"I'll be in Big Red, pally." He clapped a hand on Mike's shoulder and left.

As soon as she heard the screen door close, she leaned forward and touched Mike on the arm. "Hey, specialist," she asked softly, " … can you keep a secret?" An impish smile turned into a full-on grin when he caught on.

"My lips are sealed," he promised with a matching grin.

Five minutes later, Mike stepped jauntily through the front door, pulling it to behind him. He was even whistling a cheery little tune, as he swung himself up into Big Red and prepared to head back to the station. The other men were both relieved and astounded at the difference in him.

"I take it you're not nervous anymore, buddy?"

"Nah, I'm good, Cap. Thanks," he replied, settling down into a quiet little hum of happiness on the drive back to the West Coast. His lips kept twitching into a smile, and, every now and again, he snorted in amusement.

"Something you'd like to share with the class, Stoker?" Chet finally asked.

"Sorry, guys, I can't. It's a secret," the engineer said happily, honking the airhorn twice. If you only knew, Chet, if you only knew, he thought to himself, grinning again at what was in store.

Notes:

Metafiction is your friend. Or, at least, it's my friend.

I do this for fun, not profit. The characters are not mine, the mistakes are. I also do not own my brother but I do own the metafictive character who portrays my brother.