A House Divided - Hank's Haunting Chapter 11, an emergency fanfic

Warning: strong language

Hank's Haunting – chapter 11

"That's bullshit, Gage and you know it!"

Johnny looked at the Irishman with bewilderment, recoiling from the fork stabbing the air in front of his nose. "I know, I know. I said that's what THEY think not me," he argued, splaying an open hand across his chest.

Chet propped a foot on the chair railing while he ran his hand through his curly hair. "Look, I messed up, I get it…really, I do. And… I've gotta pay the price for it when I get back to the station …probably gonna have latrine duty for a month…but I still respect the man."

"You gonna be cleared for duty soon?" Johnny questioned, returning to his plate for another large bite of omelette.

"Yea, I think so. I've gotta head over to Rampart in a little while and let Dr. Harrison look at my foot again but I think he'll release me." Chet took a sip of his coffee before continuing. "I really like the guy. I don't have to be concerned about him being judgmental, ya know?"

"Sounds like a great doctor to balance with Morton," John snickered before allowing his face to fall. "Cap did seem to come down kinda hard on ya though, didn't he?" Johnny asked running a nervous finger around the rim of his coffee cup.

"He had every right to, Johnny. What I did was wrong and," Chet shifted nervously in his seat. Expressing his feelings with his shiftmates was something new for him and it was still a struggle, especially with John Gage. "I'll never forget what you fellas did for me that day. I mean, you came here and babysat me while I got over the…self-inflicted sedation," he smirked, remembering the whiskey and narcotic combination. "Then, that day at the station….you guys," he hesitated remembering that what they had told their captain, although not lies, had been rather devious insinuations.

Johnny looked up, understanding melting his dark eyes. He knew what his friend was thinking and that the lineman was struggling to put his appreciation into words. "We got each other's back, man. It could've easily been anyone of us so we gotta lookout for each other. No way were we gonna let you get fired for….ya know, bein' upset."

"Yea," Chet blushed when he caught a glimpse of Johnny looking at him. "You guys really came through for me…even when I didn't deserve it."

"We're all human," Johnny said, patting the shorter man on the shoulder. "We all need a little extra support sometimes."

"Mmmm," Chet nodded, staring down at his black coffee, curls of steam wafting upwards.

"Ahem, 'sides," Johnny grinned. "I still owe you for that crutch assault."

Chet couldn't hold back the nervous chuckle and subsequent grimace as he recalled the agony his well-aimed crutch had delivered to Johnny's groin. "Ugh, yea, more like a crotch assault wasn't it? I hafta say, the payback for that is gonna be…well…that's what concerns me."

"It should," Johnny chuckled allowing his half grin to brighten the mood. Then, his face fell as his thoughts returned to the reason he had sought Chet out so early this morning. "But right now, this whole thing between Cap and Roy and Marco is what concerns me." He took another sip of the rich hot coffee. "What should we do about it?"

"Not much we can do, is there? I mean, offer Cap our support and let him know that…that we don't believe it." Chet leaned back in his seat anxious to hear Johnny's thoughts on the matter.

"I don't know…Cap…he's been almost like a father to me. Or at least a big brother. I just…how do I talk to him?" Johnny questioned, staring into the remains of his breakfast. He also thought about Roy and Marco, wondering what would happen to them if he mentioned anything to Cap about what Roy had said. "I can't just waltz up to him and say 'oh by the way, Cap, I don't think you beat your wife.' I mean, geez, how do we start that kind of a conversation?"

Chet thought for a moment before responding. "Maybe we shouldn't. Maybe Stoker should talk to him. He's closer to Cap than the rest of us, it seems to me anyway," Chet mumbled drooping his head.

Johnny slowly shook his head from side to side. "I don't know. I'm not sure where Mike stands on this one. He's quieter than the rest of us but…he's observant and…," Johnny picked up his coffee cup before he continued. "I really don't want to get him stirred up in this mess if we don't have to…if he goes to Cap with it then…,"

"Yea…I hear ya," Chet said lifting his cup to his mouth. "If we can't talk to Stoker…and we damn sure can't talk to Cap about it without upsetting the whole station then…who CAN we talk to, Gage?"

"You think maybe we should talk to Rebecca instead?" Roy questioned.

Roy and Marco looked at Mike as if he'd taken leave of his senses.

"How are we gonna do that? When he's not with her he's with us?"

"True, Roy. But what about Joann? You think maybe Mrs. Stanley would talk to her?" Mike's blue eyes peered over his coffee cup as he waited for a response.

"Jo offered to take her out to lunch when I told her about what happened but…I don't think Rebecca would go out with her face bruised." Roy leaned back as Amy approached, placing a plate of scrambled eggs in front of him.

The trio waited for their meal to be served before resuming their conversation.

"Can I get you fellas anything else?" Amy asked with a bright smile.

"I think we're good. Thank you," Marco spoke for the group.

As soon as the waitress was out of hearing range, Roy spoke up again. "Mike, haven't you noticed anything different about him?"

Mike sighed, a forkful of hotcakes dripping in syrup hovering over the white plate. He pressed his lips together tightly as he pondered his response. "Ahem," he cleared his throat, slowly setting the fork back down on his plate then folding his hands. "Yea…but fellas, it didn't start on Saturday. It started a few weeks ago."

Rebecca Stanley stood at the stove scrambling the eggs she knew her husband would want as soon as he walked in the door. At least, she hoped he'd walk in the door. Their last encounter had left her wondering if he was even going to come home. She stared at the bubbling mixture of yellow liquid as her mind drifted back to their heated verbal exchange on Sunday morning. He'd said something about going away. She couldn't remember exactly how he had said it but something in his words led her to believe that he might not even come home after shift.

"Please, Hank. We need you," she mumbled to herself, absently wiping her damp hands on a dish cloth then setting it down on the spoon rest on the stove.

"Bye, Mom."

Rebecca spun around waving at her two daughters as they headed out to the bus stop. "Bye, girls. Have a good day," she croaked out doing her best to dry her eyes so they didn't see her crying. Moments later, she heard the distinctive sound of the school bus rolling to a stop at the corner. She was alone now and she looked up at the clock on the wall. If he was coming home, and if the station hadn't been called out on a run just before shift change then he'd be driving up any time now. She couldn't let him see that she'd been crying so she reached for the paper towel dispenser, realizing that one of the girls must have retrieved the last one without replacing the roll.

Hank turned his car into the driveway then sat staring at the steering wheel. How had his life become so confused in such a short time? The two places he'd always felt the most comfortable and confident were now the two places he dreaded the most. At home, he was a poor excuse for a husband and father. At the station, he was a poor excuse for a firefighter, especially a captain. Where did he really belong these days? His life no longer a matter of where he was needed most, but a matter of where he would do the least damage?

Finally, he knew he had to face her; he had to tell the only woman he'd ever loved that he had decided to move out for a while. He reached into the passenger's seat grabbing his duffle bag. He didn't know where he'd go but he knew he couldn't stay here any longer. He couldn't continue to hurt those whom he loved more than life itself.

Rebecca rummaged through the cabinets searching for another roll of paper towels, the frying bacon and cooking eggs temporarily forgotten. She heard Hank's keys rattling in the door knob just as she smelled something burning. As Hank pushed open the door and stepped inside, he heard a blood curdling scream emanating from the kitchen and rushed inside to find his panicked wife fanning the flames on the stove with a newly opened roll of paper towels. The grease from the frying bacon had spattered along the edges of the gas burner igniting the dish towel as well as the contents of the frying pan. In no time, the paper towels were also flaming. In her shock, Rebecca dropped the paper towels into the burning grease, spreading the flaming oil across the stove top and splattering some on her hands as well.

"Becca, get out!" Hank's shouts drowned out her screams as he grabbed her around the waist and shoved her away from danger. He quickly turned off the gas burners, covering the pans with lids and tossing the smoldering remains of the dish towel and paper towel roll into the kitchen sink. He turned on the water, quickly extinguishing the flames then threw open the kitchen window to allow the smoke to escape.

Soft whimpers pulled his attention back around to the opposite side of the room where his wife lay curled onto her side, her hands cupping her bloody forehead. "Oh my god, Becca?" He rushed to her side kneeling down and gently pulling her blood covered trembling hands away from her hairline, noting the hissing sound she made when he touched the blistering splotches on the backs of her hands. His heart sank into his shoes as he saw the blood running down the side of her temple mixing with her tears as it coursed towards her ear. He felt her quivering as he carefully pulled back on her wrists encouraging her to allow him to tend to her wounds.

Rebecca Stanley couldn't stop shivering, even when she felt familiar hands coaxing her to release her scalp. She knew she was injured, felt the stinging on the backs of her hands as the warm thick fluid slid between her fingers then down her cheek. She also realized that her carelessness could have caused them to lose their home. In a rush of emotions, the tears poured out. This was not going to help their situation. She just hoped that somehow, he would forgive her.

"Sweetheart, wha…what happened?"

Rebecca's sobs continued, her hiccupping breaths tearing Hank's heart out of his chest. "I, I guess, I…I let the grease get…too hot. Ple,"

"No, no, honey…that was just a grease fire. I mean, you're hurt. Did…did I," he began but couldn't finish his thought. His actions might have extinguished the fire but they also left his wife with a bleeding head wound in addition to what would likely be second degree burns on her hands. He reached a nervous hand out, gently touching her scalp near the large laceration, holding his breath when she recoiled from his touch. He gulped hard looking around the room for the object that he had obviously shoved her into and his eyes lingered on the corner of the kitchen table. A small amount of blood was visible along the edge and he realized that he had used too much force to get her out of the way of the fire and she had fallen hard against the sharp corner of the table, creating a two inch gap along her hairline.

"Becca, I'm so sorry. Just, just lie still and let me get some ice and…," he whispered hoarsely, rushing to the refrigerator before he had even finished his statement.

Moments later, Rebecca felt the icy pain of a cold wet Ice pack being placed along her forehead with more pressure than she thought necessary. Additionally, her burning hands began stinging even worse as ice packs were wrapped around them as well. "Honey, uh…we need to get you to a hospital."

Chet drove in an easterly direction on his way to Rampart General Hospital for what he hoped would be his last visit with Dr. Harrison. If all went well, he'd be released for duty for the next time 'A' shift was working…and he'd be enjoying the company of a certain young lady later on this evening. He reached his destination wondering where the time had gone, his thoughts vacillating between Caroline Marks and Captain Stanley. How could Roy and Marco think that their commanding officer could hurt the love of his life?

He pulled into a parking spot near the emergency entrance, having been told previously to enter through the emergency doors to have Dr. Harrison check his foot wound for his medical release. He removed his sunglasses, dropping them into his shirt pocket. When he looked up, he was stunned to see a familiar black sedan wheeling into the only vacant parking space at the emergency room doors and a worried fire captain waving to an orderly as he rounded the front of the sedan and quickly opened up the passenger's side door.

"Cap?" He spoke into the silence of his van.

Hank waved to the orderly standing inside the glass doors as he rounded the front of the car in his rush to get to his wife. He pulled open the passenger's door and reached in, noticing that a few drops of blood had escaped from the icy compress she was trying to hold over her wound, dotting her pale blue blouse. "Baby…here, let me help you out," he spoke softly holding her elbow for support as she stepped out of the car.

"Need my help to get her out?"

Hank looked at the orderly who was placing a wheelchair into position. "No, I think we can manage…ok, honey, just sit down slowly. The wheelchair is right behind you."

Rebecca's legs felt weak and as soon as she felt the backs of her legs bump the chair, she allowed herself to plop down into it. The sudden movement causing a wave of nausea to rush over her.

"Ok, ma'am, just lift your feet and…that's it," the orderly said as he guided her feet onto the footrests then reached for the handles and pushed her through the automatic doors.

Hank followed closely behind them making the right turn in the corridor that led them towards the nurse's station.

Behind the desk, Sally turned her pretty face to the right and was surprised to see Hank Stanley rushing down the hallway, his face pale. "Captain Stanley, may I help you?"

"Rebecca burned her hands and fell against our table," he said breathlessly. "She's gonna need stitches and treatment for her hands."

Sally looked up at the orderly sweeping her gaze past the patient who sat resting her elbow on the armrest, face propped in her palm. "Four." She quickly followed them down the hallway and into the treatment room just as Chet walked through the doors. He cast a worried glance down the long corridor looking for his captain. Seeing no one he knew, he made the left turn toward the registration desk and took his place in line. By the time he signed in, he heard Dr. Harrison's name being paged to treatment room four. He took a seat in the yellow chairs, making sure he chose one with a good view of the treatment rooms. He knew he had seen Captain Stanley rushing Mrs. Stanley inside when he first drove up. Now, as he sat down thumbing through a magazine, he wondered what was happening…and questioned whether or not he needed to call Johnny.

Rebecca felt herself being lifted out of the wheelchair and gently laid down on the examination table. A tightness along her upper right arm let her know that her blood pressure was being checked while familiar hands stroked her cheek, gently brushing her dark locks away from the blood. "Hank, I…"

"Sshh, honey…let Sally do her job, ok? Everything's gonna be alright. Just try to relax for us," he crooned.

Sally made a notation of her patient's vitals then stepped over to the phone, paging Dr. Harrison to treatment room four.

"Harrison?"

"He's a wonderful doctor, Captain Stanley."

Hank shook his head, "Oh, I wasn't questioning his ability. That's just not a name I'm familiar with at Rampart." He brushed his wife's hair again as he continued. "I guess…I was just expecting Brackett or Early."

Sally saw the concern on the man's face. "Dr. Brackett is off and Dr. Early is assisting Dr. Morton with another patient right now. We've been kinda busy this morning," she said with a smile, then returned her attention to removing the ice pack from Rebecca's forehead. "Ok, I'm gonna clean this up a little so Dr. Harrison can get a better look at it."

"She, uh, she has burns on her hands too, Sally."

The pretty blonde haired nurse examined the backs of both of Rebecca's hands noting the blistering that was beginning to surface. She replaced the ice packs then returned her attention to cleaning up Rebecca's face removing as much blood as she could. As she stroked Rebecca's bruised cheekbone with the dampened gauze pad, she realized that not all of her wounds were fresh. Her training kicked into high gear pushing her personal knowledge about this couple to the rear of her brain for the time being.

"Mrs. Stanley, did you also hit your cheekbone when you fell? I see some bruising here and around your mouth." Sally knew the answer but needed to find out what her patient might tell her.

"No…no, I uh, I slipped in the shower a few days ago. Hit my face on the faucet," she said, her voice quivering.

"I see," Sally replied with a reassuring smile. Had she turned to look at Hank, she would have noticed the wounded look on his pale face. "I guess you've had a pretty rough week then huh?" Sally knew the injuries fit a particularly nasty pattern that she had seen more times than she could count. No longer was this a couple of people she knew fairly well. Now she had a patient…one who was possibly a victim. She documented her suspicions in the chart then reached inside a cabinet for a hospital gown. "Mr. Stanley, will you help me get her into a gown please?"

"Of course," he answered, reaching trembling hands to unbutton his wife's blouse. How long had it been since he'd done this? The intimacy between them had been nonexistent for several weeks. He pushed those thoughts aside as his fingers continued to disrobe her and assisting Sally in carefully easing her into a hospital gown. They were just finishing tying it behind her neck when the door swung open and an unfamiliar man in a white coat walked in.

"Hello, my name is Dr. Harrison. I'll be taking care of you today," he said as Sally handed him a record locking serious eyes with his. He saw her quickly dart her eyes towards the manila colored folder and immediately knew that there was something inside she wanted him to read.

"This is Rebecca Stanley and her husband Hank. Rebecca had an accident in their kitchen this morning. She has a two inch laceration on her forehead and blistering burns on the backs of her hands," she said in her most professional voice. She watched the young physician reading her notes then turned to Captain Stanley. "This may take some time so why don't you go ahead and get her registered at the front desk and then take a seat. I'll come and get you as soon as we're done in here," Sally said touching Hank's arm and guiding him towards the exit.

"Yea, of course…I'll…I'll be back soon, Becca," he said then twisted around away from Sally's guiding hand. He cupped his wife's cheek, rubbing his thumb along her trembling lips. "I love you, honey," he whispered as their lips touched briefly. He turned again, exiting the treatment room never seeing the lone tear streaking from her right eye falling silently onto the pillow.

As soon as her husband was gone, Dr. Harrison reached for his patient's pulse along her right wrist. He felt the rapid flutter beneath his fingers, counting the beats to get a baseline before he asked her the question that he hated to ask. Even though he was a young physician, he had seen similar injuries before and he had read the notes inscribed by his trusted nurse. He looked directly at her face watching for a reaction when he asked the question that he feared might make her pulse increase significantly. "Mrs. Stanley, do you feel safe at home?"

A/N: Even though a lot of this story takes place away from the station, I promise we'll get back there very soon. I haven't forgotten which fandom I'm writing in and I do promise more fires and rescues from our favorite boys in blue before we conclude this one. Thank you all for the encouraging words through reviews and PM's. To those who leave reviews as a 'guest', I am also grateful even though I have no way of letting you know that through a response. So, please accept my thanks here.