Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Emergency or any of its characters. I promise to return them unharmed when my imagination is finished with 'em.

Forgiveness Factor

Written by: Kianda

Chapter Eight


Holiday atmosphere surrounded Station 51 as the woman volunteers brought in the last of the holiday decorations. This year they wanted to surprise the men by putting some cheer into the firehouse. Normally, a tabletop tree placed on an upended crate sufficed to mark the occasion. The woman had gathered decorations and timed their 'surprise' for when the men were at the training facility, and gone a couple of hours.

"This is the last of it, Emily," Joanne told the commander's wife, carrying a box from the parking area. "This was a great idea you had. They'll be blown away, I think."

"Thanks, Jo, the place could definitely use our magical touch, that's for sure."

"Roy usually grumbles because he has to drag the decorations out of the attic. I don't know why?" She sounded harassed. "He doesn't put them up or take them down."

"Hank is pretty good about helping when he's around. It's the 'when he's around' part which doesn't work out at Christmas. I can't believe it's almost here; it seems we just started this project. We lucked out having them off. It will be lovely." An inner light radiated from her face.

Joanne gave Emily a knowing smile. "Let's join the others and get this place Christmas ready shall we?"

Together the two walked arm in arm to join the women 'decking the firehouse halls.'

— — —

The squad arrived back at the station. Johnny jumped out determined to beat everyone to the showers. The training exercise left him smelling like a dirty wood stove. The engine was backing into the bay, and he had to wait before crossing the floor. His attention diverted to the kitchen.

"Are you hearing what I'm hearing?" He asked his partner who joined him at the back of the squad.

"Depends on what your hearing, Roy teased. "If it's little voices . . ."

"Don't be a wise guy, Roy. You gotta hear that."

"Johnny stepped into the kitchen and found himself in Christmas land.

"Oh, wow. Far out! Guys you aren't gonna believe this."

The rest of 51 entered and eyes sparkled with childish delight. The day room was alive with the sights and sounds, of Christmas.

A real five-foot Christmas tree stood next to the couch where Henry parked himself. The dog's head rested on his front two paws, eyes watchful. His tail slowly thumped into the cushions. The heady scent of pine tickled the senses with its pungent, yet fresh clean fragrance of the forest. The tree's multi-colored lights blinked on and off appearing to shimmer as the tinsel on the tree stirred with the slightest current of air.

"Get a load of that would ya?" Chet said, pointing.

A Christmas train jugged its way around the base of the tree.

The adornments hanging from the sturdy branches came with a handwritten explanation. Each one planned and fashioned by the children of Station 51's, families, they symbolized lives saved throughout the year. California's diverse ethnic cultures represented in their design, added authenticity to the concept. There were crosses, bells, angels, stars, snowflakes, candy canes, and gingerbread men. Each held the last name of the person rescued somewhere on the ornament.

The tree was a living reminder of the gift of life.

A photo albums and picture placed on top of the coffee table rounded out the scene.

An open scrapbook with pictures and articles from various rescues and events throughout the year tempted one to have a look. Strains of 'The Little Drummer Boy' were playing from a portable cassette player. Standing upright an 8x10 portrait of the woman and children of Station 51's family, posed with smiling faces. In their hands they held a colorful banner that read, 'Merry Christmas and a healthy New Year.'

No one spoke, afraid to break the spell.

"Do you like it?" Emily asked from the kitchen doorway.

Every ones attention fixed on Captain Stanley's wife.

Hank cleared his throat. Going to her he put his arm about her shoulders. "It's lovely Em. When did all of you have time—?"

"I'll tell you later," She promised. She disengaged from his grasp, wiping her eyes at the genuine emotion filling the room. She took her purse from her shoulder; opening it, she retrieved a little box.

"Johnny, Lisa wasn't able to take part in the picture but as the newest member to 51's family, she made you an ornament as well. We all wanted you to place it on the tree."

"The little minx never said a thing," he mumbled.

He took the box and lifted the top. Johnny sucked in air as he saw what rested inside, its significance immediately understood. Despite the fact, she was only eight; his sister's maturity level continually surprised him. Lisa constructed a dreamcatcher out of beads and string. Inside the small circle that formed the loop, four strands of different colored string symbolizing the four cardinal points, converged in the middle. From this, dangled the charm of a horse. His spirit guardian; the messenger, the teacher, and the healer. Three sets of bead strands hung down. The middle stand had letter beading and spelled out the name Clayton. A Christmas colored ribbon looped through the top.

Everyone admired the ornament as he hung it on the tree.

"It's beautiful Johnny," Emily said.

He agreed and he would be sure to tell Lisa that too.

Liz called during the showing of "It's a wonderful Life." that evening. Johnny took the phone call in the dorm so as not to disturb the others.

After the greeting, she gave him their flight information.

Johnny held the phone to his ear by the crook of his shoulder as he wrote the information down. "Pan Am Flight, 298, arrival time eleven-thirty on the 26th. Got it."

"Lisa is so excited about this trip. She has missed you. She can't wait to meet with Jennifer DeSoto in person. The letters the two write back and forth are endless. You haven't been in our lives long Johnny, but the impact you have made is already larger than I would have believed possible."

Uncomfortable, he didn't speak.

"Sorry, did I make you uncomfortable?"

"It's alright.

The klaxon went off causing him to speak loudly. "I have to go Liz. Tell Lisa I'll call her when I can." He hung up.

"Squad 51, woman down at the roller rink, 7000 Jefferson crossroads, time out 20:18

The squad pulled up in front of a large warehouse-type structure with a giant roller skate emblazoned on the face of the building. It blinked red and green.

Gathering up their equipment a woman wearing a team jersey embroidered with 'Lady Mashers', stretch pants, elbow and kneepads, minus helmet and skates, met them at the truck.

Roy needed one look. "Let me guess, Roller Derby?"

"I'm Alana, the team captain. I called you," She said nodding and talking fast. "Like, last week Marcy, she bashed the rails good'n hard. Wham. Rang her bell if you know what I mean. She complained about having a headache for a couple of days." They moved toward the entrance. "Today during practice, she seemed outta of it, slow. I told her to sit this one out, but before she made it to the bench, she hit the floor, yah know-fainted. She came to right away, but kinda confused.

I left her with the rink owner, to come out and meet ya."

Once inside, there wasn't anything remarkable about the roller rink. Like all rinks, it had your typical hardwood floor, and a running rail three rails deep that wrapped around the entire area. Spread out in various places were the openings to enter and leave the floor. A snack bar offered hot and thirsty skater's refreshments, and a gaming area bid one to try their video skills. What seemed out of place was the group of young woman, and one male huddled near a woman lying on the floor.

"Coming through here," Roy cautioned

"Excuse us please."

Johnny placed the black trauma box on the floor. The male made room for him. Johnny knelt at the conscious woman's side. "Sir, have you called for an ambulance?"

"Yes as soon as it happened. Can I do anything else?"

"It would be helpful if you could tell the women to hang back?"

"Sure," he said businesses like. "Come girls lets give the fireman room. We can wait in the snack bar, sodas on me."

"Hi." Johnny focused on the young woman. "I hear you're not feeling well. Can you tell me your name?"

"Marcy," she said. "Who are you?"

"My name is John Gage," he said counting her pulse and respirations. "I'm a paramedic with the LA fire department. Do you know where you are Marcy?"

"That's a silly question, I'm on the floor."

Roy set up the bio-phone. "Marcy, I'm Roy. How old are you?"

"Nineteen," she supplied. "Can I sit up? I feel kinda goofy lying here."

"I'd like to check you over first if that's okay?

"Sure," she said.

"Pulse is 75," Johnny told his partner. Respirations are 18. Marcy? Can you tell me what happened?"

Marcy shook her head. "Not really, I remember feeling weak you know? I couldn't focus my eyes and felt kinda sick to my stomach. Then I woke up on the floor with everyone looking as if I died or something. Gosh I've never passed out before, it's embarrassing."

Johnny smiled. "Can you move alright, nothing hurts anywhere?"

"I can move okay. My head hurt earlier, not so much now."

"Rampart this is squad 51," Roy said.

"Go ahead 51."

"Rampart we have a female victim here, nineteen years of age. She suffered a brief loss of consciousness while roller-skating during a roller derby practice; the patient is now awake and oriented but has difficulty remembering the episode, standby for vitals.

Johnny told him, "BP is 120/70; there is a slight dilation of the right eye."

Roy relayed the vitals to the hospital.

"51? Did the patient strike her head when she fell to the floor?"

"No," Alana answered, then coaxed her friend. "Tell him about last week Marcy."

"Yeah okay," Marcy said, "I kissed the rail last week. I've had headaches on and off for a couple of days."

Negative Rampart, but patient struck her head against the rink railing last week and complained of having headaches for two days.

"51, has the ambulance arrived yet?"

"Affirmative, Rampart."

"Start an IV normal saline, and transport 51."

"Ten-four."

"Do you have to stick with me that?" She asked Johnny as he prepared the IV.

"Hospital's orders, he said. "I'll be over before you know it."

— — —

"How's the girl doing?" Johnny asked Dixie as she joined them for coffee at the counter.

"Dr. Brackett ruled it post concussion syndrome. She'll stay over night for observation and will be fine." She sipped her coffee. "After I drink this I'm heading home. My shift is over, so I won't see you two until Christmas Eve."

"Dixie, drop by the station," Johnny invited.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, something the ladies put together, you'll like it."

"Sounds mysterious," She said. "Aren't you going to tip me off to what to expect?"

Johnny placed his empty cup on the counter, "Nah, you'll enjoy it more if I don't."

Dixie placed her own coffee cup down and said, "You have my interest piqued." In the next breath asked, "are you all set for your family to arrive Johnny?"

"As ready as I'll ever be, Dixie."

"Sounds like you're not sure." She searched her friends face. "I'm always available for moral support." She knew this was an important visit in terms of relationship building and she hoped it went smoothly, "Don't forget to bring them by the hospital so your friends here can meet them."

Scooping up the HT from the counter, he said, "Sure. See ya at the station."

— — —

Christmas Eve dawned bright and cheerful. The day would be a mild one and perfect for Station 51's annual ride down East Carson St. This event was one of Mike's favorites, and he looked forward to it every year. Station 51 had the honor of transporting the jolly old man himself, A.K.A. Charlie Carver from Station 95, to the Carson Children's home to deliver gifts. The awe in which the children accepted the gifts Santa presented to them would put spirit into even the grouchiest of Scrooge's. Kids, young and old, lined up along the route to wave and cheer Santa. Of course, the giver of gifts rewarded them for their kindness by throwing candy their way.

Mike was in the dayroom completing his assigned task when he noticed an ornament had fallen to the floor. As he replaced it on the tree, his eyes caught sight of another, and the name assigned to it, Montoya. He gently lifted the ornament from the tree and ran his finger over it. A bittersweet memory descended on the engineer—a memory full of faith, hope, and unbounded love. Mike stood frozen, deep in thought, staring at the ornament but not really seeing it . . .

He smelled gasoline and blood. Mud plastered his body and covered his face.

Doing a favor for a friend, Mike volunteered to take his shift on Christmas Eve. Station 69 located in Topanga, was one he had worked in before. That evening a call came in for a car over the embankment on Tuna Canyon Rd. It was drizzling and misty on that chilly Christmas Eve, and when they arrived on scene, the sky was darkening into full night. At first, the rescuers couldn't even see where the car had ended up, the brush overgrown and thick. They searched the road in the rapidly decaying light for an off point, but couldn't find one. The captain radioed for verification of the call. LA informed him the caller stated he thought he saw a car go over the side. The captain then called for the air helicopter and the powerful lights she carried. When the helicopter arrived, it made two long sweeps and relayed there were two vehicles over the embankment, a car and a motorcycle. The car down thirty feet, just to the west of their position, was upside down, the motorcycle lying on its side was down an additional ten feet, the driver nowhere in sight.

As he rigged himself to descend along with the others, he wondered what they would find. Even on this, the holiest night of the year, death didn't take a holiday.

He was the first one down. As he came to the upside down mangled piece of metal that had once been a car, he didn't want to look. Afraid he would see a horrific image that would stay with him for the rest of his life, Mike hesitated. He could hear the others were nearly down.

"What have we got, Stoker?" The captain asked.

He hardened himself. This was his job good or bad, and he peered inside the broken wreck.

She lay there amid the smashed interior of her car, eyes open, aware and looking directly at him!

His heart soared. "Miss, can you hear me?" He gingerly reached in and took her pulse to find it faint, and thready. "Victim is alive!" He informed the captain.

"Senior, please get her out," She whispered as though she couldn't muster the strength to speak louder. "I hurt and can't move. My daughter Amaris, she lays beneath me, please don't let her die."

She said something that confused him. "If you must choose senior," She said slipping into Spanish,"salvar a mi hija." (Save my daughter)

Looking closer he saw a small dark thatch of hair and an arm sticking out from underneath her. He tried working his arms in, but there wasn't room. A fierce determination invaded his heart. Death would have to fight him tonight.

Then he saw it. A piece of the car's wreckage pierced her abdomen. It was an ugly sight. His eyes closed.

One of 45's paramedics joined him at the car, beginning his assessment. He made to get out-of-the-way and she said softly, "Don't leave me." Her plea mixed with fear and pain kept him there.

He asked her name.

"Helen Montoya," she answered fighting to stay conscious. Shock began to present itself.

Squad 45's other paramedic, with the captain's aid, went to find the motorcycle victim. Sadly, he heard the captain tell LA there was a fatality.

The rain began to fall harder as he manned the bio-phone, leaving the medics free to carry out Ramparts orders.

Using cutters and the Jaws they feverishly worked to free the trapped victims. The little girl was alive but her trauma unknown, the body of her mother covered her. Helena had two IV lines inserted and they packed dressings around her wound to control the bleeding. Supplemental oxygen filled her mask, but the paramedics didn't know how long this would keep her going. The news grew worse; the same object impaled both mother and daughter.

In order to free them both, the object would be severed from underneath Helena. This required movement and there wasn't enough room to stabilize her spine.

He remembered looking into faith filled eyes as they readied to sever the connection that would free her and her daughter.

"Senior save my Amaris," she struggled to speak. "I am not afraid. If I die, the arms of Jesus will hold me—"

Once extricated, Helena lapsed into unconsciousness and experienced breathing difficulties. She was intubated and bagged.

Another engine arrived, and Mike was grateful for the extra help. The steep hike to the top was just as demanding as the rescue itself. The rain made the steep incline slick and dangerous. Multiple times, someone slipped. By the time they reached the top, mud covered them all.

The helicopter waited to fly both victims to the nearest trauma center.

He prayed for them both, watching the helicopter's running lights fade into the night.

He looked at the ornament in his hand. Sadly, Helena's injuries were too severe. She died while en route to the hospital. Her daughter-needed surgery to remove the object from her leg but if something good came out of that night, it was the body of her mother protected the little girl from serious injury.

He hoped Helena rested in the arms of Jesus.

51's engineer replaced the ornament and turned around to collect the broom he left leaning against the couch.

"Mike, are you okay?" Empathy registered from Hank.

Mike nodded. "Sure, Cap, just reminiscing."

"Kelly!" They heard a shout.

"What?" Chet's voice responded, "the Phantom was just sending you an early Christmas present, Johnny."

"Tell the Phantom he'll be sorry he started this."

Both Hank and Mike smiled and the painful memory receded.

Life went on.

— — —

Ryan sat outside on the stoop, waiting for a visit from his father. His aunt explained his father had the right to visit with him one hour every week, and if this worked out between them the time would increase. His uncle Kevin had gone to pick up his Dad. His father didn't have his license, and had to earn it back.

He had mixed feelings. Would his father really try this time? He sounded nice over the phone, but would this really last? Ryan didn't trust his father not to go back on his word, he did it before. His uncle Max said he would be keeping an eye on things, and both Johnny and his Uncle Kevin said if he needed anything, they would be there to help him. Johnny also told him he needed to give himself plenty of time.

A car pulled up. His father gave him a wave. Kevin ruffled his hair as he walked past him to into the house, but he stayed near the doorway. Ryan stood unsure what to do.

"Hello, Rye Man," his father said, his hands shoved into his pockets.

Ryan looked at his father warily; it was a while since he heard the name. His Dad was the only one who called him that.

"Hi," He said.

"It's good to see you, son."

Ryan didn't move. He wasn't sure what to do.

"I don't expect a hug," his father said as if he read his mind. Ryan heard a slight hardness creep in. "How about a handshake?"

Hesitantly Ryan walked closer and his father stuck out his hand. The two shook hands, his hand dwarfed by that of his father's larger one.

"What do you want to do?" His visitor asked.

Ryan shrugged, "Dunno, let's go inside—"

— — —

"See you next week Rodger," Kevin said.

"Yeah."

"It will get easier. Don't rush it. "

"Sure, if you say so," Rodger complained. "He hardly said anything. My son hates me."

"No, he doesn't, he's just confused. He wants to believe in you, but he's seen this before. So have we."

Fed-up Rodger said, "I get the feeling everyone is expecting me to fail."

"Then prove us wrong."

Rodger smiled but his smile wasn't warm. "See ya later, Kevin."

— — —

Rodger walked into an empty house going straight to the refrigerator only to find it empty of what he wanted. He scowled.

— — —

The station was quiet, the men bedded down for the night. Not everyone was sleeping. Johnny lay awake, waiting. He thought as he lay there this was his last working day for the next six. He had taken several vacation days, and didn't need to report for work until the thirtieth.

He pressed the tiny button on his watch to light up the dial. It registered after midnight. He whispered into the stillness. "Merry Christmas."