The men returned to wives and families as they always did. Emily Stanley and her daughters, though Hank was not in the thick of this battle, helped him deal with the guilt of having not been where he felt he was needed. They were there to hold him, and listen to both his silence and his ranting and to leave him to his tears when he needed that, too. But most of all, they were there. The same for Beth Stoker, and JoAnne DeSoto, and their children. They were there for the men of their families, as it has always been, these true heroes, who stand by their men, be they husbands, fathers, sons, brothers, nephews, or cousins. Increasingly, women were joining the ranks, and this would add an entirely different type of heartache and pride to the mix, but these families, these heroes would always stand tall.

John spent his time camping and Marco joined him on a fishing trip. The two got along quite well. Johnny had suspected what the problem was for Marco, but he was not one to push things. Finally, on the second morning, they had started talking about families and memories. Eventually, curiosity got the better of John, and he couldn't resist asking Marco a question.

"So, just how many brothers and sisters do you have anyway? I know the one time I was at your parent's place there was a mob of people."

Marco grinned. "I've got eleven brothers and seven sisters."

Johnny's eyes grew wide in shock. "You kiddin' me, man?"

"Hell, no! I've got 37 first cousins and God only knows how many second and third cousins! You should see family reunions!" Suddenly his smile faltered. "At least, that's the way it used to be…"

Marco confided in Johnny the pain of the loss of the trust and companionship of his family. He had not seen them in over nine months. He had not called them, because although his abuela was the official matriarch of the family, he knew she respected and loved her marido (husband) deeply. So, for him, his abuelo's word was law, and he was an outcast.

Johnny could understand his friend's point. But, he had something to say about the situation... Something Marco had never even considered.

"You said you and your brothers had been drinking quite a bit, right?"

"Well, yeah, it was a fiesta, amigo. Even some of my sisters had a few."

John looked Marco squarely in the eye. "So what makes you think your abuelo hadn't had a few too many just like the rest of you?"

Marco blinked and stayed quiet for a very long time. Johnny stayed silent, a small grin playing about his amused features.

~51~

The men of 51-A sincerely hoped the worst was behind them. They had no idea that though death was through with them for now, the nightmare was far from over.

Chet returned to his family six weeks after the incident, with appointments for outpatient rehab, otherwise, he seemed recovered from his ordeal. He decided to stay with his parents for a while. He had seen the department psychologist, and passed the tests they gave him, but they still recommended a few more weeks off. Unfortunately, Chet was quite skilled at saying what the doctors wanted to hear, and equally skilled at hiding his true feelings. Though his family knew the bare details of what he had been through, he was silent and morose. He was closed off emotionally, and this is when his older brother Joey called the one person he hoped could help: Chet's twin sister, Billie Jo. Bil got leave, but it would take time for her orders to be cut and then for her to get to Los Angeles. The best she could do was to be there by military transport in three days' time. Joe was worried. They had not seen Chet like this since he had come back from Vietnam, and he had gone through some terrifying nightmares right after, and some things his family couldn't understand, but if anyone could, Bil could. The problem was, Chet would not stay home. He took to wandering the city at night, and that was when he got into major trouble. His mother got the call from the police. Bil was a few hours too late.

~51~

Chet had ended up in a rundown bar, holding the entire place hostage. He had a gun, and was insisting he was in the jungle surrounding by the Viet Cong. So far, no one had been hurt, but he would not allow anyone to leave or move. Although in his present state, no one had been able to talk him down, the police were hesitant to shoot him too quickly. Fortunately, one of the men responding to the call was LA Sheriff's Deputy Vince Howard, who not only knew Chet, but was a Vietnam veteran himself. He also had been a part of the horror in downtown. He had gotten permission from his captain to try to talk to his friend. He put in a call to Marco Lopez, another friend. Though he knew Marco was off-duty, if there was anybody who could reach Chet, it would be Marco. Near panic, Marco promised he would be there immediately.

"Chet?" Vince tried once again over the bullhorn.

No answer. There had been silence since the whole situation had begun over an hour before. He had not responded to repeated phone calls to the phone inside the bar. Negotiators felt he probably wasn't even aware the phone was ringing.

One of the snipers had eyes on the inside of the bar, but no clear shot at Chet. He did report that no one was being immediately threatened, and that Chet was not pointing his weapon at anyone. He seemed to be hyperaware of the location of each person in the room. If anyone tried to move, he would wave them back and down.

"Chet, buddy, come on. You need to talk to me. It's Vince. You're okay, buddy."

Again, he was met with silence. Marco slipped up by his side. He glanced over at Vince, who quickly filled him on what was happening. Marco nodded grimly. "I know what's happening with him. His sister and I have talked about this. It's happened to him before. I don't know what you call it, but some guys who've been in combat, when something real bad happens to them stateside—well, they sort of—go back to when they were in combat, in a bad sit, or mission or something. It triggers them somehow. You said he's got a gun?"

"Yeah, a patron who left the bar just before he flipped out saw it under his jacket. He said it looked old, like maybe a Colt pistol."

"Well, I know which gun that is. I don't think he'll shoot anybody. It belonged to his grandfather. I know how to deal with this. Bil, his sister is an Army doctor. She sees stuff like this all the time. She saw it happen to him one time before, and she talked him down. Let me go in and try. I think I can do it. He's confused. He needs somebody to come in and take him out of where he's at in his head. I need you to trust me. I need your gun."

"I can't give you my—"

"Load the gun with blanks except for the first shot. If I have to, I'll take him down myself. I do not want one of these guys taking a kill shot at my best friend." Marco's eyes were hard.

Vince stared at him. "You could do that?"

Marco smiled slightly, but his eyes were haunted. "I was a Special Forces sniper for six years, Vince. I can compartmentalize if I have to. I won't kill him, but I won't allow him to hurt anyone either."

Vince felt an icy chill crawl up his spine, but he knew the law. "Sorry, Marco. I can't let you go in there with a weapon of any kind. I doubt they'll let you go in at all. You're not even on duty. If you were, maybe, but as it stands…"

~51~

Marco narrowed his eyes, deep in thought for a moment. He turned and ran up to the Battalion Chief in charge, a man he remembered well from the downtown office building tragedy.

"Chief Buchanan, I need your help. I'm not on duty, but I can help Kelly. I can talk him down and out of the place he's at in his head. I can do it without anyone getting hurt. If I can't, I can keep him from hurting anyone, and I can keep him from getting killed. Please, sir, let me help him. I just need official orders putting me on duty and…" Here he looked at the police incident commander standing next to the chief. He knew this was where it would hit the wall. "…deputizing me temporarily as a police officer. I have the skills. I won't shoot if don't have to, but, I was a Marine Special Forces sniper for six years."

Revealing a secret he had shared with no one but his parents and Captain Stanley, he continued, "I am on a list that says that because of my skills, I can be recalled to duty at any time, for any length of time. I can be called for special missions at the pleasure of the Marine Corps, until I reach the age of 55. I will hit what I aim at, if I have to. There will be no collateral damage. I can save every person in that building—including Kelly. Sir."

Marco watched the looks of shock on the men's faces and waited as they processed the information he had given them. He silently prayed they would really hear what he had said, and then waited for the verdict.

The two men knew the situation had gone on much longer than was safe, and that they might have a chance to conclude it without any casualties, so, though it was highly irregular for both commanders, they decided to try the brave young firefighter's plan. The Police Chief quickly declared Marco Lopez a Special Deputy of the County of Los Angeles, and just to make sure things were covered, LACoFD Battalion Chief Buchanan declared Lopez to be officially on-duty. Both men knew that the eventual paperwork would be an unholy nightmare, but there was no time to consider their unorthodox approach further.

To save Vince from having to be involved in the paperwork snarl, Marco was issued an official sidearm by the chief himself. It was sincerely hoped by all involved he would not have to use it. Marco declined the holster for this and tucked the gun in the back waistband of his jeans, under his jacket. He also donned a bullet-proof vest, which made his jacket fit a bit snugly. Marco then made his slow approach towards the front door of the bar, pausing to cross himself, and pray for both himself, and his hurting friend inside the building, as well as the innocents involved. Buchanan had called Hank Stanley. These were his men, and he had a right to know what was happening. He showed up within fifteen minutes of the call, about the time Bil Kelly arrived.

~TBC~