Rescue 77
Season 2-Episode 1
Previously on Rescue 77...
Bell was forced to make a life and death decision, leaving Ryan and Wick trapped inside of a lab with toxic chemicals that nearly killed them. This led to bitter feelings between the three paramedics, although they eventually made peace with what happened. Megan was upset that Bell would not share his feelings with her. She eventually looked for comfort in the arms of an ex-boyfriend.
8:45 am.
It was a typical Southern California morning with clear blue skies and temperatures in the mid 70's. A slight breeze rustled the flags suspended above Fire Station 77's open apparatus doors.
The members of 77's C-shift were gathered in the station's paved backyard, lined up to the left of a crackling fire that was contained inside of a metal drum.
"Station 77, ten-hut!" Captain Durfee barked.
The firefighters snapped to attention.
Durfee stood to the right of the firefighters alongside Pete Romero, the newly arrived captain of Truck 77.
"Pre-sent arms!" he called.
The firefighters saluted as Rescue 77's three paramedics marched forward and turned on their heels.
Kathleen Ryan stepped up to the burning barrel first. In her outstretched arms she held a folded blue jumpsuit, the standard uniform issued to each one of the Los Angeles Fire Authority's firefighter/paramedics. She tossed the jumpsuit into the flames, then stepped back and saluted.
Next, Michael Bell stepped forward and dropped his jumpsuit into the fire.
As he took his spot next to Ryan and snapped a salute, Wick Lobo stood before the barrel and heaved a deep sigh. He paused momentarily for dramatic effect. He wiped away an imaginary tear, before tossing his old uniform into the flames.
Firefighter Bridges brought a kazoo to his lips and buzzed out a stirring rendition of Taps. Each of the medics tried, and failed miserably, to maintain their composure. Soon they, along with the other firefighters broke down laughing.
Durfee blasted the burning can with Co2 from a fire extinguisher.
"Dismissed," he laughed.
The paramedics surveyed each other. They now wore the same navy blue uniform shirts and pants as every other firefighter, the only difference being the same silver and blue Paramedic patch on their left sleeves, a carry over from the jumpsuits.
"Good riddance," Wick sighed, brushing his hands together.
"I don't know. I think I'm gonna kinda miss the ol' jumpsuits," said Bridges, tugging at Wick's sleeve. "It made you such an easy target. Now I'm gonna have to come up with a whole new bunch of crap to cram you with. Shouldn't be too hard, though. Ha!"
Wick shook his head and pushed him away.
"Well, I won't miss 'em," sighed Ryan. "Baby blue was never my color."
"Look at the bright side," Wick flexed his biceps. "These new uni's show off my chiseled frame a whole lot better."
"Oh please." Ryan rolled her eyes.
Bell sighed and walked back inside the station. Ryan and Wick exchanged glances before following him.
Captain Romero, who had just transferred in from Task Force 113, fell in alongside Durfee as they strolled back into the station.
"You guys always do stuff like this?" he asked.
"We're a...unique bunch here at the 7-7, Pete," Durfee smirked. "You'll get used to it."
Bell opened a side compartment behind the the driver's door on the ambulance and placed his turnout gear inside.
Wick slapped his shoulder with one of his heavy gloves.
"Hey, Bell. What's goin' on? You okay?"
Bell shook his head.
"It's nothin', man."
"It's Megan, isn't it?" asked Ryan.
Bell nodded and flashed her a sheepish smile.
"It's that obvious, huh?"
"Dude, just sit her down and hash things out," offered Wick.
"It's not that easy, Wick. Anyway, she hasn't even got back yet from Chicago."
"Well, I hope you guys work it out, Michael," said Ryan. "I hate seeing you all mopey like a sad puppy. It's pathetic."
A hi-lo tone sounded, following by an alarm bell.
"Station 77, Engine 28, Engine 54, Truck 41, Battalion 9," called the voice of a male dispatcher. "Smoke from a structure. 233 Forest avenue. Cross street Wilson. Time out, 0851."
The firefighters swung into action, jogging to the trucks and quickly donning their yellow turnout gear. Bell slipped on his coat and pulled himself up behind the steering wheel of Rescue 77 as Ryan jogged to the passenger side and Wick climbed into the back.
Seconds later, Engine 77 roared out of the station and turned right, followed by the rescue ambulance and then finally Truck 77, all with lights flashing and sirens screaming.
"Second Chances"
0857 am.
"So when does she get back from Chicago?" asked Ryan above the RA's siren as she adjusted her radio headset.
"Tonight." Bell guided them into a left turn behind the pumper.
"Seize the day, brother," Wick said from the back of the rig. "Talk to her when you get off shift in the morning."
"Thanks for your concern guys, but I'll be fine," Bell replied as he hit the air-horn.
"Here we go," Ryan nodded as they approached a plain looking single story house.
"L.A., Engine 77," Durfee's voice crackled over the radio. "Station 77 is on scene, 233 Forest. We have a single story, single family dwelling, light smoke showing from a detached garage. Station 77 investigating. Have the assignment continue in."
A tone sounded and the dispatcher repeated the captain's size up as the three paramedics climbed down from the ambulance.
"Bridges, pull an inch and a half!" Durfee called as he hopped down from the engine and slammed his door.
Bell focused his attention on the light brown cloud that continued to seep out from under the garage door.
"Cap, that's not smoke, that's exhaust," he said as he slipped on his hood.
"Suicide attempt," Durfee sighed. "Once the truck takes the door, you guys get in there."
Bell and Wick donned their breathing apparatus as Ryan pulled the appropriate gear from the R.A..
One of Truck 77's firefighters used an axe to smash the hasp on the old wooden door, breaking it free, along with the lock.
As two firefighters lifted the door, Wick and Bell were engulfed in a brown haze. They entered to find a small compact car with the engine running. A man in his forties was slumped over the steering wheel.
Bell tried to open the driver and rear doors.
"Damn it! They're locked!" he growled through his mask.
"Same on this side," Wick replied, grabbing a hammer from a nearby work bench. "Watch out."
He swung the hammer into the passenger side window, shattering the glass, then pulled open the door. He quickly leaned inside to unlock the doors and switched off the ignition.
Bell pulled the man from the car and dragged him out onto the front lawn where Ryan was waiting with their gear.
"Sir?! Can you hear me?," Ryan called, rubbing her knuckles against the man's sternum. She placed two fingers aside his neck to check his carotid artery as she leaned in close. "No pulse. No respirations. Starting CPR."
Her partners quickly stripped off their masks and helmets as they dropped to their knees to assist her. Wick switched on the defibrillator.
As Ryan performed chest compressions on the patient, Bell forced air into the man's lungs with the ambu-bag.
"Stop CPR," Wick said, placing the paddles to the man's chest as he studied the monitor's screen. "He's in V-Fib. Shocking at 200."
He adjusted the defibrillator's output to 200 joules and returned the paddles to the patient's chest.
"Clear!"
The man's body jumped as the electricity pulsed through him. Wick checked the monitor and shook his head.
"No good. Shocking again at 200. Clear!"
Ryan slipped on the EMS radio's headset as Wick and Bell continued to work on their patient.
"City Base, Rescue 7-7."
At City Hospital, Dr. Griffiths swiveled in his chair and keyed the mic of the base station radio.
"Rescue 7-7, this is City Base. Go ahead."
"Still nothin'," called Wick. "Shocking at 360. Clear!"
"No pulse," Bell shook his head. "Continue CPR, Wick. I'm gonna intubate."
"City Base, Rescue 7-7," Ryan continued. "We are on scene with a male patient, approximately 45 years of age, currently in ventricular-fibrilation as a result of CO poisoning. We've shocked him twice at 200 with no conversion, then once more at 360 with the same result. Intubating now."
Bell tilted the man's head back and lowered his jaw as he slid the steel blade of the laryngoscope over his tongue. Wick handed him an ET tube which he slid down the man's throat and past his vocal chords. He connected the ambu-bag and resumed squeezing air into the patient's lungs.
"Rescue 77, City Base," the doctor replied. "Go ahead and establish vascular access. Administer 1mg IV bolus epinephrine, then defibrillate once again at 360."
"How's he lookin'?" asked Captain Durfee as he approached.
"Not good, Cap," Bell replied. "Not good."
9:44 am.
Bell guided the ambulance into the station and shut off the engine. The paramedics quietly stepped down from the rig.
Captain Romero nodded to Bell as he stepped over.
"Did he make it?"
Bell shook his head as he closed his door.
"Nope. We did our best, but he'd just been down too long."
"I don't understand how someone can think that suicide is the answer to their problems." Wick shook his head. "I'll never get it."
Romero shrugged.
"When I worked in Malibu, we had a run this one time, for a guy who fell from a cliff. Turns out he jumped. He said he wanted to die because he just lost his job as a stockbroker. He was actually mad at us for rescuing him. Go figure, huh?"
Ryan rounded the front of the ambulance holding a folded sheet of notebook paper in her hand.
"I just found this in the back of the rig," she said, studying the paper. "It must have fallen out of that guy's pocket."
Wick leaned against the hood of the R.A..
"What is it?"
Ryan stared at the folded piece of paper marked Marlene.
"I think it's a suicide note. It's addressed to Marlene? His wife, maybe?"
"Open it. What's it say?"
"Come on, Wick," Bell sighed. "You don't really wanna know that do you?"
"I kinda do. Is that weird?"
"Uh yeah," Bell replied.
The dispatch tones sounded, followed by the klaxon.
"Engine 41, Rescue 77, traffic collision, in 41's district," called the overhead speaker. "Arroyo and Highland. Time out 0959."
Ryan tucked the paper into her shirt pocket before climbing into the back of the ambulance.
10:04 am.
"Rescue 77, L.A.," the radio squawked as the R.A. screamed along the boulevard. "Be advised, Engine 41 has been delayed by a train."
"Maybe we won't need 'em," Ryan mused from the back of the rig. "Hopefully it's just a fender bender."
"Always the optimist," Bell smirked as they turned onto the next street.
"Hang on. I see smoke up ahead," Wick said from the shotgun seat.
Ryan slipped on her turnout coat and reached for her helmet.
"Is it bad?"
The intersection came into view as Bell steered the rig around a line of stopped cars.
"It's bad."
A green Honda had collided with a gray pick up truck. Flames crackled from under the hood of the Honda and black smoke billowed out from the windows.
"L.A., Rescue 77 on scene," Wick reported. "We've got a two vehicle collision, one vehicle is on fire. Assessing injuries now. We need an engine ASAP."
A distraught looking woman in a blue jacket stood in the intersection, staring at the burning car.
"Are you okay, ma'am?" asked Bell hopping down from the ambulance.
"I...I didn't see him, the sun was in my eyes..." she replied.
"Is there somebody in that car?"
She nodded before bursting into tears.
"Okay, I need you to go sit down on the curb until we can take a look at you."
Ryan and Wick, both wearing their helmets and full turnouts ran to the burning car.
Wick tried to open the driver's door and pounded on the window.
"It's jammed! Driver's not movin'!"
Ryan rounded the back of the car and tried to open the passenger doors with the same result.
"We're running outta time," she said urgently.
Bell opened a side compartment on the rig and retrieved a Halligan bar.
"Wick!" he called, tossing the tool to his partner before taking a fire extinguisher from the same compartment.
Searing hot tendrils of fire reached out for Wick as he approached the driver's door. He turned up the collar of his coat and lowered his helmet.
He jammed the flat end of the Halligan into the gap between the door and frame and leaned on the bar.
Bell blasted the flames with CO-2 from the extinguisher with little effect.
As Wick leaned again on the Halligan, Ryan gripped the edge of the door in her gloved hands and pulled as hard as she could.
Bell unleashed another icy blast from the fire extinguisher.
"Hurry up! It's almost empty!"
As Ryan yanked hard on the door, she could feel the flames licking at the back of her coat.
Wick repositioned the Halligan and leaned on it one more time with all of his weight until there was a loud pop and the dented door at last swung open.
He dropped the Halligan, then slipped his hands under the driver's arms and dragged him from the car. Ryan lifted the man by his ankles and helped Wick carry him to the sidewalk.
"My...car..." the driver coughed in his stupor.
Engine 41 cut its siren as it arrived in the intersection.
"See?" Ryan sighed as she slipped off her helmet. "We did fine without the engine."
"Like I said," Bell opened an orange tech bag. "always the optimist."
11:39 am.
The paramedics shuffled into the station's kitchen. Bridges looked up from the manual he was reading at one of the kitchen tables.
"Ah, the intrepid paramedics of the 7-7 return home from another mission of mercy!"
Wick dropped into one of the recliners and crossed his legs.
"Jealousy is an ugly thing, Bridges. Ugly."
"Jealous? Of you? That's a laugh! Jealous of what?"
"We've been on four runs this morning and you fire boys have barely spun your wheels."
Bridges leaned back in his chair.
"Funny thing how you always talk about us 'fire boys', Wick. You weren't born a paramedic, ya know? You had to hump hose and climb ladders just like the rest of us once upon a time."
Wick smiled.
"Hey, you know what they say, you gotta crawl before you can walk."
Bridges narrowed his eyes at him as the tones echoed through the station.
"Engine 77, fire alarm activated. 235 Olive. Cross street Pierce, time out 1216."
Bridges pushed back from the table and jogged out of the room. Bell leaned against the kitchen counter as he tossed a few peanuts into his mouth.
"Keep pokin' that bear, Wick. One day he's gonna bite."
Wick shrugged and swiveled in his recliner. He used the TV remote to switch over to the cartoon channel.
Ryan walked into the small room at the end of the dormitory that she shared with her partners. She dropped down onto her bunk and pulled the note from her pocket.
She wasn't even sure that she should be reading it. These could be the final words of a man who had chosen death over facing up to whatever challenges were before him. She almost felt as if she were intruding into his life.
"You don't want that in your head."
She looked up to see Bell standing in the doorway.
"What if there was somebody in his life who really needs to see this?" she asked. "This Marlene? Something he wanted to tell her?"
"It's evidence. You have to give it to the cops. Why's this bugging you so much?"
Ryan shrugged.
"Is it guilt?" Bell sat down on the bunk across from her. "Because you know we did all we could for that guy. He was just down way too long."
"I guess...I'm wondering what could drive a guy to do that, you know? How could he get to a point in his life where death seems the best way out? It's just...I was at a real low point when I...when I had my breakdown and I'm just thinking how, without the support that I had from the department, that could have been me. I got a second chance, he didn't. Maybe I should just count my blessings."
"You came through it, Ryan. You made it back. Some people just don't. It sucks, but it's the truth. Give that note to the cops."
"I know." she heaved a deep sigh before opening the drawer of the nightstand and tossing the note inside. "I'll drop it off in the morning."
10:43 pm.
Most of the lights on the apparatus floor were dimmed. Bell slowly paced back and forth before the old wooden phone booth that had been there since the station was built in the 1920's.
He knew when Megan's flight got in and he knew that she would most likely be awake if he called her. There was so much he wanted to say to her that night when he had showed up on her doorstep. He wasn't prepared to see her ex-boyfriend there. It was a punch to the gut. He felt as if he had lost Megan. She sought comfort in the arms of another man and he knew that he had no one to blame but himself.
Bell stopped pacing and stared at the phone.
"Oh just call her already," said a voice from the shadows.
Bell jumped.
"Geez, Cap! Don't do that!"
Durfee stepped into the light, wearing department issue blue sweats, coffee mug in hand.
"Look, I don't know exactly what's going on with you, but the way you've been draggin' your sorry butt around this station for the last couple of shifts with that hang-dog look can mean only one thing; you're having girl problems."
"Am I that transparent?"
Durfee sat down on the running board of Engine 77.
"Yes," he chuckled. "I was young once myself, you know."
Bell folded his arms.
"I don't know what to do."
"Michael, if ya love the girl, then call her. A man can only meet so many women in the course of his life who are truly worth holding onto. If Megan is that girl, then you have to hold onto her. Fight for her, son."
The dispatch tones echoed off of the brick walls as the apparatus bay was flooded with light.
"Station 77, elevator rescue with unknown medical. 2101 Wilshire Boulevard. Cross street Peyton. Time out 2248."
"At least give it a shot," Captain Durfee said as he opened his door on the engine. "Or you'll always wonder 'what if'."
The rest of the firefighters slid down the poles and jogged to their rigs.
"Unknown medical in an elevator," Wick said as he pushed past Bell. "This should be interesting."
Moments later, Engine 77 blared its horn and turned left into the street, siren wailing up to pitch. Rescue 77 followed with Truck 77 falling in behind them.
Their flashing red lights reflected off of the storefronts and other businesses as the rigs screamed through the streets. Three minutes later, they arrived before a twelve story apartment building.
A security guard approached the firefighters as they stepped down from their trucks.
"Man, look at this place," said Wick, gazing upward at the glass and steel building as he closed the side door of the ambulance. "I wonder what the rent's like?"
Ryan pulled on her yellow turnout coat.
"More than we make in a month, I'm sure."
"We've got an elevator stalled between the sixth and seventh floors," the guard said breathlessly. "I called for the maintenance people, but one of the residents, Mrs. Owens, called the front desk on the emergency phone, screaming that she was trapped inside the elevator and she needed an ambulance."
"Did she say why she needed an ambulance?" asked Durfee.
"No sir. She disconnected. She seems pretty shaken up, though. I don't think there's anybody else in there with her."
"Okay, Bridges, you and Aguilar go up to the mechanical room." Durfee instructed. "We'll see if we can't recycle the power first."
"Grab the fourteen-foot," Captain Romero called to his crew.
77's crew retrieved the proper equipment and made their way up to a hallway on the 7th floor.
"This is it," said the guard, pointing to the chrome doors of an elevator.
"Hello! Fire Department!" Durfee pounded on the doors. "Can you hear me?!"
"Yes! Please! Help me!" a woman's muffled voice shrieked from inside the elevator shaft.
"I understand you need an ambulance. What's the problem?"
"I'm having a baby!" the woman called.
The paramedics looked at each other.
"I'll go get the O.B. Kit," Bell said before jogging back down the stairs.
"Are the internal doors open?" asked Durfee.
"No!"
"Okay, we're gonna get you out. I need you to stay calm. Can you do that for me?"
"Please! Get me out of here!"
Ryan stepped past her captain. She slipped off her helmet as she crouched beside the doors.
"Ma'am, my name's Kathleen Ryan, I'm a paramedic. Can you tell me how far along you are?"
"Eight months, three weeks!" the woman called up.
"Has your water broken?"
"Yes! A while ago!"
"Good thing we're wearin' boots," Wick quipped.
Ryan sighed as she stood.
"We need to get in there quick, Cap."
Durfee pressed the elevator recall button, but the elevator refused to move.
"Machine Room from Engine 77," Durfee called into his radio. "Go ahead and try to recycle the power."
"Machine Room, copy. Stand by," Bridges voice replied. "Recycling power."
Durfee tried the recall button and shook his head negatively.
"Machine Room, Engine 77. Go ahead and shut down power. Let me know when you do."
Moments later, after Bridges had informed him that the power to the elevator had been shut off, Durfee inserted a drop key into the hole at the top of the door and disengaged the lock so that they could slide the doors open.
They could see that the elevator was stopped about four feet below the 7th floor.
Wick carefully stepped down onto the top of the elevator car and opened the hatch.
"How we doin' tonight?", his voice echoed through the cavernous elevator shaft.
A young black woman peered up at him as she sat in one corner of the elevator.
"How do you think I'm doing?" she replied tersely.
"Uh, just hang on a minute and we'll come on down to help you out."
"You really have a way with the ladies, Wick," Captain Romero said as he and one of his men passed the 14 foot ladder to him.
Wick lowered the ladder into the elevator and climbed down, followed by Ryan.
"What's your name, ma'am?" asked Wick as he knelt beside her.
"Christine," the woman replied anxiously.
"Nice to meet you, Christine. My name's Wick. We're gonna help you out, okay?
How far apart are the contractions?"
"Not...not far...a couple of minutes apart..."
"Have you ever been pregnant before?"
"No! Never!"
"Do you know what you're having?" asked Ryan.
"No. We...we wanted to be surprised. Oh God, my husband Jim! Can...can you get him? He's in Apartment 5-D! Someone has to let him know!"
"I'll get him," said the security guard as he jogged down the hall.
"Christine, I'm gonna need to lift your dress so I can see how dilated you are, all right?" said Ryan as she knelt before the woman.
The woman nodded vigorously as she tried to control her breathing. Ryan heaved a sigh.
"Annnnd the baby's crowning," she said calmly before raising her voice. "Bell!
We need that O.B. kit!"
"Here you go," Bell replied, peering through the hatch above as he dropped the orange bag down to her. "You need me to come down?"
"We're good," said Wick. "It's crowded enough in here as it is."
"Oh God!" their patient shrieked as she clutched her stomach.
"Are you having a contraction?" asked Wick.
"Yes, damn it!"
"Okay, Christine, I need you to push for me," said Ryan firmly. "Push. Now."
The woman screamed as she squeezed Wick's right hand and gripped his left shoulder. He winced at the pain of her fingernails digging into his skin.
"Good, now push again!" called Ryan.
"It hurts! It hurts so bad! Can't you give me something for the pain?'
"Sorry, Christine. We're past that point now. I need you to bear down and push as hard as you can. PUSH!"
Bell and the other firefighters exchanged helpless glances as they listened to the woman's cries echo through the elevator shaft. There wasn't much that they could do.
The security guard returned with a confused looking white man wearing a gray sweatshirt.
"I'm Jim Owens," the man said nervously to Captain Durfee. "Gus here said my wife Christine, she's trapped in the elevator?"
"Yes sir," Durfee replied. "and she's in labor."
"Labor? Now?!" the man placed a hand on the wall to steady himself. "She... she said she couldn't sleep. She was just going to go down to the front desk and chat with Gus. She does that when she can't sleep sometimes. Oh, I should have gone with her..."
"I've got two of my best paramedics down there with her right now. She's in good hands."
"Jim?! Is that Jim?!" the expectant mother called from below.
Her husband stepped near the open elevator shaft. Bell held up a hand to keep him back.
"I'm here baby! I'm here!"
"Please get this baby out of me!" she wailed, collapsing against Wick.
"Okay, Christine. This is it," Ryan said calmly. "I want you to bear down for me one last time and push as hard as you can. Can you do that for me?"
"I don't know...I don't think I can..." the woman sobbed. "I don't think I can do this anymore."
Wick squeezed her hand.
"Come on. One more and you're done," he said reassuringly. "You got this, Mom."
"Ready, Christine?" asked Ryan.
She nodded vigorously.
"Okay then. On the count of three. One...two...three! Push!"
Christine Owens nearly crushed Wick's hand as she trembled and gritted her teeth. She slapped the wall of the elevator with her other hand.
"Baby's out!" Ryan announced as she cradled the newborn in her hands.
"What is it?" asked Christine.
"You've got a daughter."
"Why isn't she crying?" she asked, alarmed. "Why isn't she crying?!"
Wick pulled the bulb syringe from the O.B. kit and used it to suction the fluid from the infant's mouth and nostrils.
The baby coughed and broke into a healthy cry.
Her husband perked up and stepped closer.
"That's...that's the baby? That's our baby?"
"Congratulations, Dad," Bell smiled up at him from inside the elevator shaft.
"What...what did we have?"
"It's a girl!" Ryan called from below.
"It's a girl!" the new father shouted. "I've got a daughter!"
Durfee, Romero and the other firefighters took turns shaking his hand and patting him on the back.
"Good job, Christine," Ryan smiled, handing the baby off to her.
"Thank you, thank you both," the new mother smiled through her tears, cradling her daughter.
Ryan and Wick looked at each other and shared a relieved expression.
7:39 am.
Bell stood in the backyard of the fire station staring at his truck. Ryan walked out through an open apparatus door, her bag slung over one shoulder.
"You actually have to get in the truck if you want it to go anywhere, Michael."
she dumped the bag into the backseat of her jeep.
"Sorry, I was just...thinking." he looked up at her. "What are you gonna do with that note?"
"Turn it in," she climbed into her jeep and closed the door. "Like you said, it's evidence."
She offered a quick wave before pulling out of the yard.
Wick skipped out of the station as he pulled on his jacket.
"You want waffles?" he called. "I'm makin' waffles when we get back to the apartment. With like, chocolate chips and hell, bananas, too. Why not?"
"What's got into you?" Bell asked.
"Hey, it's not every day you help bring a baby into this world, brother!"
"Well, technically, it was Ryan who delivered the baby..."
Wick unlocked his truck.
"Details! Come on, man. Let's have some waffles!"
"Uh...I got something I have to do."
"Right. What's more important than waffles? What...oh. You gonna go see her?"
Bell slid in behind the wheel of his vintage white pickup.
"I'll see ya at home, Wick."
Wick nodded and watched him drive off.
"Fine," he sighed. "More waffles for me."
XXXXXX
Ryan sat in her jeep across the street from the police station. She looked down at the folded sheet of paper in her hand.
As much as she knew that Bell was right, she still wanted to know what was in the note. What if there was something that the man had written that could be hurtful or destructive to this woman, Marlene, that he had addressed it to? She didn't want that on her conscience. She didn't want to add anymore pain to someone who would already be grieving.
With a deep sigh, Ryan unfolded the paper and read the contents.
Eggs, ginger ale, lettuce, AA batteries, soap.
She folded the paper and began to laugh uncontrollably. She had agonized for hours over a shopping list.
XXXXXX
Bell stood on Megan's front porch. He'd nearly rung the doorbell three times now. He knew that this was a last ditch effort at best. She seemed to have already moved on. He just had to know. He had to give their relationship one last shot.
He rang the bell.
The door opened and he was face to face with the most beautiful girl that he had ever seen.
She ran a hand through her hair as she held her robe closed.
"Michael? What are you doing here?"
"I won't be long, I promise."
"Okay," she sighed, rubbing the sleep from her eye.
"When I was a kid, I had this dog named Rusty. He was the best dog ever. He
was a little Boston terrier. I loved him. He followed me home from school one day and I...I don't know how, but I convinced my parents to let me keep him. We went everywhere. He slept on my bed, he waited for me to get home from school every day. I just...I loved him. He was my best friend."
Bell looked off down the street and smiled at the memories. Megan smiled at his smile.
"And...anyway," he cleared his throat. "One day I got home from school and he wasn't there. I called for him and nothing. I raced up to my room and there he was, on my bed. He had died. Curled up right there on my bed."
"I'm sorry," she brushed a strand of hair from her forehead.
"To this day, when I see a Boston terrier. I still get a little choked up."
"Did you come all the way over here and wake me up just to tell me this incredibly sad story?"
"No. See," he slipped his hands into his pockets and stared at his feet before looking up at her. "that was me, opening up to you. You've said that you can't be with somebody who won't let you in. Well, this is me, letting you in. I've never told that story before to anyone. It's a Bell family tradition to repress our emotions, to get over things. I don't want to do that anymore. I'm so sorry that I haven't let you in, but I am. I will. Right now. I promise you that I'll never holding anything back from you. I just...I just miss you so damn much."
Her nose twitched and she brushed a tear from her cheek.
"I miss you too. You coming here; saying these words...it means a lot to me."
He stepped closer to her.
"Is there...is there any chance left for us?"
She looked up into his eyes and placed her palm on his cheek.
"Oh, Michael," she sniffed. "do you know how much I love you?"
"What uh..." he took a breath. "What about Don or John or whatever his name is?"
"It was just dinner. I just needed someone to talk to that night. That's all."
"So...can I come in?"
She pulled him close and pressed her lips to his.
"I thought you'd never ask," she smiled, their lips still touching.
She led him inside and he closed the door.
END
Rescue 77 is property of Spelling Television. Any similarities to actual persons, places or incidents is purely coincidental. All firefighting and medical information may not be accurate.