Author's note: Serious PSA, if you see an ambulance coming with lights and sirens, move over. Or for any official car like that. For real.
Warning for Jack's job in this chapter. They get a cardiac arrest call, so if you'd rather not read about that you can skip to the paragraph that starts: "Jack stows their gear as Zenyatta comes out and gets into the passenger seat." Just know that Jack's had a rough day.
Jack swears under his breath as he switches the siren to yelping and pulls right up to the bumper of the truck in front of him. The third night shift in a row is bad enough, but adding in assholes who somehow don't notice the giant ambulance behind them makes him reconsider helping people for a living. Seriously, this is the fifth car tonight that cruises along without a care in the world right in front of an ambulance with flashing lights and blaring sirens. Are they really that hard to see? He doesn't think so. And he's the one with vision problems.
The truck finally notices them and pulls slowly over to let them by. Jack lets out a frustrated sigh and switches the siren back again. Zenyatta looks on, seemingly unperturbed by the people making their jobs harder tonight. Then again, Zenyatta always seems pretty calm about everything.
Sure, the call for chest pain could end up being nothing more than indigestion. But it could also be a heart attack, aortic aneurysm, uncontrolled angina. There are reasons for the lights and sirens. And it isn't because paramedics are all adrenalin junkies that like driving fast. But just try telling that to some of the public.
Jack takes a deep breath and tries to shake off his irritation. The GPS directs them into a neighborhood now, so they must be close.
Zenyatta spots the lights from the fire engine further down the block and points Jack to the right house. They grab their jump kit, monitor, and drug box from the back and head to the door. Bastion meets them with a grim nod and leads them to a back bedroom.
Jack notices the firefighters in the room are doing CPR and has to reset his expectations. Absently, he realizes he doesn't recognize the one doing compressions. She looks young, dreadlocks dyed bright green and falling around her broad shoulders to look oddly like horns. Jack blinks hard. He's been up way too long.
"Okay, what've we got?" Jack asks as he and Zenyatta start working seamlessly. Zenyatta grabs the airway and Jack tries to start an IV, knowing one of the firefighters will swap in their monitor for the AED.
"Sixty nine year old male," one of the other firefighters says. "Woke up to go to the bathroom at about three thirty am, according to his wife." Jack takes a quick look around and notices the wife isn't in the room. Good. "He was complaining that his chest felt funny, so she called nine-one-one after they argued about it for a bit. He collapsed about two minutes before we arrived. We started CPR three minutes ago, AED advised a shock one minute ago."
Jack gives up looking for a vein and grabs the IO gun instead just as Zenyatta finishes intubating. Jack sees Bastion gesturing the new kid away as he gets ready to swap in for compressions. "No personal cardiac history according to the wife, but his father and brother both died of cardiac complications," she says in a strong accent as she gets to her feet.
Once Zenyatta's got the man intubated and Jack gets the IO in, Jack calls a halt and looks at the rhythm. V-fib. Damn it. "Clear," he snaps and administers the shock. Bastion resumes compressions and Jack grabs for the drug box. Zenyatta takes over the monitor and the new kid snags the BVM from him.
They run the code for another thirty minutes, losing all discernable electrical activity twenty minutes in. After the thirty minute mark, Jack sits back on his heels. "Time of death, four twelve am."
Everyone in the room ceases activity with an air of defeat. These calls are some of the worst for Jack. For them all, really. But Jack hates losing, especially when lives are in the balance. Even knowing he couldn't change the outcome, he always feels like he should have been able to do more.
Zenyatta grips Jack's shoulder as he closes up the drug box. Jack takes a moment to breathe before he starts packing up. He sees Zenyatta walk over to Bastion and the dejected new firefighter while he gathers his scattered supplies. The first time doing CPR is always hard, but Jack doesn't think he's in a state to be offering comforting words. He just wants to go home and sleep for a week. Besides, Zenyatta is much better at that sort of thing.
He does give the pair a tired nod as he heads out to the ambulance. Bastion whistles sadly.
Jack stows their gear as Zenyatta comes out and gets into the passenger seat. He bows his head solemnly as Jack turns the engine over but doesn't say anything. The cab is quiet as they head to the hospital. Jack's not sure if Zenyatta is meditating or trying to nap; it's all he can do to focus on the road.
He finally parks at the hospital hauls their depleted drug box inside. He looks around on the off chance Ana is lurking around a corner as they exchange the box. As infrequently as they see her while she's on shift, she somehow has a knack for knowing when things go south like tonight. But this time she's nowhere to be found.
Zenyatta climbs into the driver's seat when they return to the ambulance. He calls them in clear to dispatch as Jack slumps in his seat and rests his forehead against the window. Maybe the rest of their shift will be quiet.
Naturally, just as he's finishing that wishful thought, his phone starts ringing.
He's getting more mileage out of the damn thing in the last few weeks than he has in years. He fumbles into his pocket for it and scowls as he fishes it out. He glances at the display and his stomach drops like a stone.
It's Hana. Calling.
Hana never calls; she's a text or die kind of girl. And it's five o'clock in the morning. Jack snaps the phone open so sharply he almost cracks it in half. "Hana?"
"Jack," she sobs. Anxiety sparks like a wildfire through Jack's chest. "Jack," she says again, hiccupping.
"Hana, what's wrong?"
"Can you..." Hana takes a deep, watery breath. "Can you come get me?"
"Yes," Jack says immediately. "Where are you? Are you safe?"
"Yeah," Hana says. Her voice is very small. "I just...I..."
"Where are you, Hana?" he asks again, as gently as he can. "I'll come as soon as I can but I need to know where you are."
"The police department," she says. It takes everything Jack has to fight down the cresting wave of panic. Distantly, he hears Zenyatta call in to dispatch again to set their rig unavailable but Jack can't spare any ounce of focus.
"Which one? Near your house?"
"Yeah, on—" Hana breaks off as another sob chokes her voice. "It's—it's gone, Jack. It's gone."
"What's gone? Hana—"
"My house," she says. "And they were...they were there, and—" The sounds on the other end of the line are suddenly muffled, but Jack can make out the gut wrenching sound of Hana crying mixed with another voice murmuring. The dread in his chest is making it hard to breathe and Jack grips the door handle so hard his knuckles creak. Zenyatta is quiet as he drives them back toward the station much faster than he should.
The call picks back up with the new voice. "Mr. Morrison?"
"Yes," he says tightly.
"My name is Samantha, I'm a social worker with the San Francisco Child Protective Services," the woman says. Jack can't hear Hana anymore in the background so she must have stepped away. "First, I want to tell you Hana is safe and unharmed. But last night there was an incident at her home, a house fire. Hana was at a sleepover elsewhere, but I'm sorry to say both her parents were home. There were no survivors."
"Oh my God," Jack whispers.
"Mr. Morrison," Samantha continues. "I've been assigned to Hana's case and will be helping get her settled. She was adamant that we call you. May I ask if it's possible for you to come to collect her? I understand you live out of town. If you're not able to come we can place her in a temporary foster home."
"No," Jack says hoarsely. "No, I'm on my way. I'll be there in a few hours."
"Thank you," she says and gives him the address to the CPS office they're moving to. He scribbles it onto his notepad and has to correct a few pen strokes. His hand is shaking. "We can sort out an official emergency placement once you get here. But in any case, Hana would benefit from seeing you."
He hangs up and tries to take a deep breath. Zenyatta looks over as they pull into the deployment bay. He gently grabs Jack's wrist before he can lunge out the door and Jack looks sharply over his shoulder.
"Are you alright to drive?" he asks. "I could assist." Jack takes in the dark circles under Zenyatta's eyes and the tired lines framing his normally placid face. He must be just as exhausted as Jack is and the offer warms him for a moment, especially knowing that Zenyatta has Genji to get home to.
But all of Jack's military instincts are kicking in hard and he's nothing but focused now. "Thanks, but I'll be fine."
Zenyatta nods and waves him on. "I'll handle the shift changeover and talk to the supervisor. We're already cleared with dispatch. Go."
Jack flashes him a tight smile and throws himself out of the ambulance. He swings by his apartment to grab some essential supplies, shoving clothes and toiletries into a bag almost at random. He heads for the door but pauses on second thought, dashing back into the closet and grabbing his laptop bag too. He throws everything into the trunk, plugs the address Samantha gave him into the cut rate GPS hanging onto his dashboard by a thread, and guns the engine.
Then it's six hours of white knuckled fear and driving like a maniac, all barely held in check by the laser focus he's holding onto by his fingertips. He has no idea how he doesn't get pulled over every two miles. Maybe that Star of Life sticker on his bumper is good for something after all.
By the time Jack pulls into the CPS office parking lot he's numb and running completely on autopilot. He drags himself through the door in a fog. But then he catches sight of Hana and it's like a firework finale erupts in his chest: horror, relief, heartache churning overtop one another and making him sick to his stomach.
Hana sits in a chair along one side of the wide hall, curled up so tightly he almost hadn't seen her. She has her arms and legs wrapped around the fluffy white bunny he'd sent her back when Yuna first told him they were expecting, her face buried in its ears. A woman sits sideways in the next chair, hand laid gently on her shoulder. Jack ignores her. He's got only one target in his sights.
Hana must hear his heavy boots because not three steps in she looks up and spots him. Her face is pale and her eyes are red, dark hair sprawling messily around her shoulders. She doesn't say a word, just throws herself out of the chair and Jack catches her mid-lunge. He wraps her up completely in his arms and she buries her face in his chest. They're both trembling as they stand there together for what feels like hours.
A cleared throat nearby startles Jack upright. He looks over to see the woman standing at his shoulder, head lowered to keep their conversation private. "Mr. Morrison?"
Jack tries to say yes but his throat is dry and the word lodges behind the lump in it. He nods instead, taking care not to hit Hana with his chin.
"Samantha Green," she says. She holds out a hand but doesn't thrust it at him, letting him get to the handshake in his own time. He reaches over Hana's head to grasp it but doesn't let go of his goddaughter. "If you'll follow me, we can move somewhere a little more comfortable."
Jack belatedly realizes they're blocking a good portion of hallway traffic. "Uh, right," he says, gently herding Hana after her further into the building.
Samantha leads them to a quiet little room in the back. It's some sort of meeting room designed with children in mind; the walls are splashed with bright colors and the floor space is crammed with a plush couch amid an infestation of bean bags chairs. A precarious stack of games defies gravity in one corner. Samantha gestures to the couch. "Perhaps we should sit down? We can start discussing some important details whenever you're ready."
Jack nods and steers Hana over, almost tripping over the cheerful pink backpack wedged in beside the couch. It's a little awkward settling in while she maintains her death grip on his shirt but Jack manages to perch with enough angle to let her keep her face buried in his shoulder.
"Great," Samantha says as she sets the stuffed bunny down next to Hana and takes a step back. "I'm going to grab us some coffee." She doesn't wait for his nod before heading across the room to a small section of cabinets with a coffee maker and mini fridge, leaving them some semblance of privacy without letting Hana out of her sight. Jack spares a moment to be grateful Hana got such a woman for her case and then pushes her from his mind.
He gives Hana another minute to just sit curled up, reaching over to grab the bunny and set it in her lap. She immediately curls her right arm around it and sniffles loudly. "Hey," he says, dipping his head to try to catch a look at her still too pale face.
She sniffs again. "Hi," she says.
That exhausts his repertoire so they sit in silence for another minute. Besides, what the hell do you say to somebody after this? It's one thing to deliver bad news to a teammate's family that knows the possibility is out there, and that's hard enough. But this? Jack's floundering.
All he can do is hold on to her and let her do the same.
After a while, Samantha comes back over with a few flimsy paper cups balanced in her palms. She sets one down on the end table next to Hana and hands another to Jack. He nods to her and takes a sip, not tasting the watery coffee at all.
"So," Samantha says, crossing her legs at her ankles as she sits down. "Mr. Morrison, I'm going to assume you're planning to pursue custody? If you're not interested in a long-term arrangement, I'll need to know now. Foster care might be the better option if that's—"
"No," Jack snaps, then pauses to clear his throat. Hana shivers in his arms. "I want to. What do we need to do?"
Samantha nods. "We can get a court appointment set for tomorrow afternoon to discuss placement, if that works for you. In the morning we'll need you to complete a few evals, jump through a couple hoops. Most of that will be paperwork. The trial is the real hurdle."
"Okay," Jack says. "Yeah, I'll be in town for as long as this takes. That's all fine with me."
"Hana will be staying with a foster family tonight—" Jack snaps his head up but Samantha holds up a hand. "Just until you're officially awarded custody. That's all squared away."
"Oh. Right." He tightens his grip a little anyway as Hana shifts against him, bringing the stuffed animal back up so she can bury her face in it again.
"Hey, Hana?" Samantha turns to her. She peeks one eye out. "It's getting a little late, are you hungry?"
Shit, lunch. He should have thought of that. Jack frowns to himself. He's already fucking up this guardian thing and he hasn't even gotten started.
But Hana shakes her head sharply. "No," she mumbles into the white fluff.
Samantha subsides without a fight. "Okay, maybe later."
They sit together in silence again for a while, Samantha shuffling through some paperwork as Jack and Hana cling to each other. Eventually Hana worms her way upright out of his grip and mumbles something.
"Huh?" Jack asks.
"Gotta go to the bathroom," she says again, sliding off the couch. She heads out into the hall, feet dragging and shoulders still slumped. Jack watches her until she disappears before he turns to Samantha and eyes her expectantly.
She sighs and shuts her folder. "Hana was spending the night at a friend's house. Around five in the morning the cops tracked her down with the help of a neighbor, since they could only find two people in the house after they put out the fire."
Jack scowls, shoving his glasses up his nose. "Hell of a way to find out something like this."
Samantha nods, but she doesn't seem as perturbed as Jack is. He figures she sees a lot more of the fallout from a situation like this than he does. He's usually out once the present victims have been treated. This is a whole new side for him—and so much the worse for being personal.
"The closest relative that could make a claim on her is her mother's sister, who lives in Indiana," Samantha says. Jack nods. He knows that side of the family well, having grown up alongside them. In fact, he and Yuna had fled that damn town at the same time: her to the farthest full ride she could snag, him to the Army. And somehow they'd never lost touch, no matter where in the world he'd been stationed.
The one thing he's sure of is that Yuna wouldn't want her daughter shipped off to that backwater excuse for civilization. Hana's staying with him.
"We weren't able to contact her," Samantha continues. "Looks like she's on a long-term visit in South Korea, so you're really the only option right now."
"I'd be here no matter what," Jack says, shifting in his chair to keep an eye on the hall. "Do they know…" He has to pause to clear his throat again. "Do they know what caused the fire?"
"I'm sorry, I'm not sure," Samantha says. "I can give you the contact info for the investigation."
Jack heaves a deep breath and tries not to think about it. "Thanks."
They get a few forms out of the way, Jack switching Hana to his left side once she returns to keep an arm around her as he writes. Samantha tries actively handing Hana a prepackaged sandwich but Hana just shoves her face into Jack's shirt again. He shrugs one shoulder at Samantha and she just nods sadly.
But when Samantha goes to draw Hana away to take her to the foster home for the night, Hana puts up an unexpected fight. It startles Jack after the entire afternoon she's spent curled up against him barely saying three words together. Though in retrospect, he should have seen this coming.
"No!" Hana shrieks, yanking her hand away from Samantha. "I'm not going!"
"Hana," Samantha starts, the picture of patience.
"I'll stay here if I have to," Hana says, hiccupping. Her eyes are watering again.
"Hana," Jack says, tilting her chin up to look her in the eye. "How's this? Any time the urge strikes, text me or call or whatever. All night if you want. I don't care if it's three am. You text, I'll answer. Deal?"
Hana stares at him, searching his face. He knows the odds are good Hana logically understands nothing will happen to him overnight while she's elsewhere. He also knows this outburst has nothing to do with logic. Fear is a fickle thing.
Finally, she gives him a hesitant nod. "Any time?"
"Any time," he says.
He can see the moment some of the tension leaks out of her shoulders. She takes a deep breath and he gives her an encouraging smile, one that feels far too flimsy to help. But she gives him a wet and subdued one back and hauls her backpack over her shoulder like it's the weight of the world. He solemnly hands her the stuffed animal and she sighs. "See you in the morning?" She says it like a question.
Jack nods firmly. "First thing."
Hana follows Samantha out of the station with no further protest and Jack slumps back onto the couch like a puppet with cut strings. He drops his head in his hands and tries to take a deep breath of his own. He gives himself five minutes to panic silently before he leaves the office in search of a more private place to have a long overdue breakdown.
A thought occurs as he's checking into the first cheap hotel room he can find. He drops his bag and laptop onto the rickety bed and calls Zenyatta.
His partner answers on the first ring. "Hello, Jack."
"Hey," Jack says, trying to keep his voice even. "I should have checked in, did the rest of the shift go okay?"
"Do not concern yourself," Zenyatta says. "I spoke with our supervisor and he was very understanding. You are not expected back on call until our next shift Thursday evening."
Jack sags against the wall. "Oh, wow. Thanks." He takes a deep breath and Zenyatta lets him collect his thoughts. "Yeah, I'm probably going to be up here until then."
"Of course," Zenyatta says. Jack can see him nodding serenely in his mind's eye. "Let me know if there is anything you need."
"Thanks," Jack says again awkwardly. He hangs up before any further offers or platitudes can follow, though Zenyatta had likely been done anyway.
Jack still feels somewhat nauseous but knows he needs to eat something. He grabs a handful of granola bars from a vending machine and calls it good. Then he tries to knock out as much research as he can about what to expect from tomorrow's evaluations and meetings.
He fields three texts from Hana before she reports she's being sent to bed and he glances at the clock in surprise. The digital numbers blur and Jack scrubs a hand across his aching eyes, dislodging his glasses. Long days like this used to be so much easier to handle, back when his eyes still worked and didn't fuck up his head under stress, before—nope. Not going there tonight. Jack slides his computer off his lap and stumbles to his feet. He takes a quick shower to clear his head, answers another text from Hana, and tries to settle down to sleep himself.
He gives up after half an hour of tossing and turning, grabbing his laptop again. He's so exhausted that he's crossed some sort of threshold and is completely wired. No point trying to sleep even though his eyes are burning.
It's just starting to sink in, in that fugue zone that comes over him after being awake for well over twenty four hours, that he's signing up to be a parent. To be responsible for Hana not just for a lunch outing or a sleepover or even for the next few days. For the rest of her life.
Panic is an understatement at this point. But really, what choice does he have?
He starts collecting every parenting site and advice blog he can find, scrolling frantically from one cutesy proverb to the next happy anecdote with bright cheerful colors and scowling at the screen. None of this helps. Isn't there anything for washed up losers in way over their heads like him?
He's just about to throw his laptop across the room in frustration when he finds it. It's unassuming, the color scheme dark. The title seems to be in Spanish, but the blog itself is mostly in English. The tagline is what catches his eye: 'If you find this blog helpful as a parent, there's something wrong with you.'
Jack can't help it; he laughs.
The most recent entry is a full blown rant about the importance of never giving in to sad puppy eyes from either kid or pet, especially when it comes to adding more pets. Jack finds himself grinning as he scans the post through to the grouchy end. This. This is exactly what he needs.
He reads entry after entry until his vision blurs and he can't stay awake anymore. Somehow he feels a little better already, and sleep actually comes this time.
