Chapter 12

Mike stared hopefully into the faces of his shift mates as they gathered around the kitchen table. Hank sat at one end with Mike at the other staring past Hank's left shoulder and out the side door of the station. He noted how late it was getting as the shadows were growing longer along the beige brick wall of the station driveway. The men had caught a break from their usual frantic pace of calls leaving them plenty of time to discuss their project around the kitchen table once they had finished cleaning and putting away the dinner dishes. Now, as he sat looking into the blank faces, he wondered if perhaps the post-dinner rush of blood to their digestive tracks had left their brains lacking for oxygen; the entire crew appeared catatonic. No one, not even Chet, had made the first comment in the moments since he presented his idea. Instead, they all seemed to be staring at nothing in the center of the clean white table top; Hank and Roy nursing cups of coffee while Johnny ran a long index finger around the rim of his empty milk glass. Marco's dark eyes stared unblinking into the nothingness of the empty table while Chet absently tugged at one corner of his mustache; his eyes squinting from the strain of looking at the same thing Marco seemed to be engrossed in at the moment.

One thing Mike Stoker was known for was patience and this evening he was oozing with it. He found himself watching his friends closely and as he stared he could almost see the wheels turning inside their brains. Then, without warning, it started. The left side of Johnny's mouth began to tug upwards slightly. Marco finally blinked then lifted up his chin, angling it towards his engineer. Roy's head began a barely noticeable bobbing up and down just before Hank clapped his hands together loudly. The noise startled Chet so badly that he banged his knees against the underside of the table.

"BRILLIANT, Stoker!"

"Owe, Cap…ya nearly scared my hair straight!"

Chet's comment brought a snorted laugh from the junior paramedic who was now hiding his mouth behind one of his hands.

"Mike, you sure Ryleigh will go along with this?"

Mike turned his face to his left, making eye contact with Roy. "I'm positive. I only asked her to share her story; you know…personal experience and all. But then she started talking about her friends who are majoring in Theatre and Art…how they had access to all kinds of costumes and props; she even said that what they didn't have they could probably make for us." Mike's blue eyes were sparkling above his bright smile; his enthusiasm would not be contained. "Besides, she thinks that she and her friends can work this into a project for extra credit," he said giving his Captain a quick wink and a grin. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he had the men hooked. He also knew that if this would be academically valuable for Ryleigh then he was going to rack up a few points with the pretty brunette himself. He felt his blush creeping slowly around his collar and settling around his ears….because it would also give him another reason to spend even more time with her over the next few days.

Roy was just as excited about the plan as the other guys seemed to be but he couldn't shake the memory of how upset Ryleigh had been at the library when he'd tried to coax her away from Mr. Huggins' car so the others could extricate the elderly man. He wondered for a moment if she would be up to the task next Thursday as no doubt her emotions would still be raw. He heard the murmurings of the conversation going on around him and finally decided that perhaps the entire process would be somewhat cathartic for her; it might be her way of creating something good out of Mr. Huggins' death as a way of honoring him. With his internal struggle abated, he lifted his chin to the rest of the group.

"Ok, I'm in."

Hank's face flashed a broad smile. "Alright fellas, what about the rest of you? Speak now or forever hold your…ahh, that's not it." He rubbed his forehead, amid snickers then opened his mouth to try again. "Um, ok majority rules. Who agrees? Raise your right hand." He looked at the assembled group and counted five upraised hands, lifting his own to make the vote unanimous.

Mike felt the rush of air leave his lungs. "Alright, I'll go call her back," he said standing and heading towards the door on his way to use the dorm phone.

Back in the kitchen, the rest of the crew could hear a faint whistle following the tall sandy haired man as his steps echoed in the apparatus bay.

E!

In her apartment, Ryleigh's head was spinning with ideas. She was grateful for the opportunity to help Mike and his friends with a project so near and dear to their hearts. But she was also grateful that Mr. Huggins' death might be used to assist others in the future. She continued vacuuming her bedroom as she waited for Mike to call her back to let her know if the others had approved of the idea. Once her task was completed, she shut off the vacuum only to hear her phone ringing. She bolted down the hallway towards the kitchen not sure how many times it had already rung but certain it had to be Mike on the other end of the line.

Mike listened as the phone rang five times and doubt began to flicker inside him. What if he'd accidentally dialed the wrong number again? Quickly, he hung up the phone and began to redial being extra careful to dial the correct numerical sequence.

Ryleigh reached for the phone breathless from her cleaning and sprinting up the hallway. "Hello?" The only response she got was a click on the other end. "Grruugghhaa!" She slammed the phone back into the receiver and turned to go back to her bedroom wondering if she'd just missed Mike's call. Before she had gotten halfway down the narrow corridor, she heard the phone ring again.

Mike sat in the dorm room waiting for her voice to answer on the other end. This time, on the second ring, she picked up.

"Hello?"

"Ryleigh, it's Mike. They loved it!"

"Oh good," she said breathlessly into the receiver. "I knew they would, I mean…it's the best way to get your point across…you know?"

"You ok?" Mike couldn't hide his concern as he thought he could hear her breathing a little heavily on the other end of the line.

"Oh, yea…I was vacuuming in my bedroom and heard the phone ring. I thought it was you but when I got to it the jerk just hung up. Then just a few seconds later it rang again. Glad it was you this time because I'm tired of running up and down my hallway," she giggled.

Mike propped his head in his hand wondering if he should confess that he had been the one who'd hung up on her a minute ago. Deciding that he didn't want her to think she had a prank caller on her hands, he dove past his embarrassment and made the confession.

"Um, I'm afraid I'm the jerk."

"What do you mean?"

Mike grimaced. "When you didn't answer the phone by the fourth ring I thought maybe I had dialed 'Mr. Personality's' phone number again by mistake so after the fifth ring, I hung up. Then I dialed you back making sure I got the number right." He rubbed a worried hand across his forehead.

"Hahaha, oh Mike. That's too funny. Ok, I'm sorry I called you a jerk."

"And I'm sorry I called you twice," he snickered at his own joke. "Listen, we could get a run at any minute so um, can we meet tomorrow to begin making our plans?"

A blush ran up Ryleigh's neck coloring her cheeks a rosy pink. "Sure, wanna come over to my place? I can cook us some dinner and we can work on it then."

"Oh man, a home cooked meal to go along with your help on the project? You bet, just give me your address and I'll be there. What time?"

"How about five o'clock and I'm in apartment F-4 of Town and Country Apartments on East Boyle. Think you can find it?" She said leaning against her kitchen wall twisting a section of hair around her index finger.

"Ryleigh, I know this area like the back of my hand…driven by the place many times. I'll see you at five tomorrow," his voice matched the wide smile that had spread on his face.

"Excellent…oh and...uh, Mike?"

"Yea?"

"Do write my address down but um…don't spill any juice on it ok?" Her laughter was contagious and she could hear him both laughing and groaning on the other end of the line. "Good night, Mike."

"Ok, good night to you too."

In the predawn hours of Sunday morning, Station 51 got called out for a motor vehicle collision. Mike followed closely behind the squad casting a brief glance at Town and Country Apartments as they raced past with red lights flashing and sirens blaring. Sweet dreams, Ryleigh.

Inside apartment F-4, a young History major snuggled a little deeper into her pillow with a slight smile forming on her sleepy face as visions of a certain sandy haired engineer played out in her dream world.

E!

The following morning, Hank and Mike sat around the kitchen table sipping coffee and waiting for 'B' shift to begin arriving. Both men were enthusiastic about the project but also a little nervous.

"Think we can have it ready by the meeting Thursday?"

"We're gonna have to, Mike." Hank set his cup down then looked over at his second in command. "Well, I'm the oldest so I guess I'll present the L.A. Times Bombing since it happened first on our list. Some days I feel so old I think maybe I did travel to fires using horses when I was a boot."

Mike snickered at his Captain. "Well, following that same line of reasoning, I'll take the Frasier's Pier Fire since that was one of the first fires fought using engines."

"Makes sense to me," Hank mused. "And Chet seemed really excited about the Baldwin Hills Reservoir flood too so maybe he can present that one."

"Ok, that leaves us with," Mike began counting on his fingers, "the Wood Lumber Company Warf fire, the…"

"Haha," Hank interrupted laughing. "And we know how much John loves water rescues so maybe he should be the one to present the Warf fire since it was early in the career of fireboats." Hank's smile stayed firmly plastered on his face feeling slightly smug about his sense of humor.

"Yea, and Chet can plant a water bomb nearby so Gage can be all wet when he presents it," Mike chuckled. The two men snickered then continued.

"Ok, now let's see…we've got more events than men," Hank said, mentally calculating the events to be presented. "How about Marco presents the Griffith Park Fire. He'll be great at explaining why our training is so important since so many untrained men lost their lives there."

"I agree," Mike offered with a nod of his head. "That'll leave Roy presenting the O'Connor Electroplating Explosion." Mike couldn't stop the inappropriate laughter that erupted from his throat. "I'm sorry, Cap. I know none of this is funny it's just…well, I was thinking about Roy and Johnny on live television." Mike snorted trying to stop the laughter. "Roy gets the media event...it's funny."

"It's ironic, Mike…not sure funny is the right term," Hank said lifting his cup to his lips but taking a moment to clear his thoughts before he took a sip; he didn't want to risk getting strangled if he started laughing again. "He'll do great talking about how this event was the first captured on live television though.

"Better than Johnny would do," Mike chuckled, visions of Johnny stammering while staring into the camera like a deer caught in headlights drifting into his mind's eye.

Both men grew serious for a moment. The only disaster left to be presented was the La Tuna Canyon Brush Fire and neither man felt very comfortable with it. Hank took the lead, "Mike, I've been an engineer and now you are so we can both relate to the death of the auto fireman at the La Tuna Canyon Brush Fire but why don't we let Marco and Chet present it together? They could put a little different spin on it…like how it would affect them to see their brother in that position."

Mike's face fell as he remembered his nightmare. He knew that Hank was right about who should present that particular one. "No matter how many advancements we make in equipment or training…we still are fighting a beast that we can't always tame without casualties." Mike sat stone still, absent-mindedly running a finger along the table.

"You're right. And that point must never be forgotten either." Hank waited a beat watching his engineer for any signs that he wouldn't be up for the task. "Think we can handle this whole presentation?"

Mike's blue eyes looked deeply into the face of his superior. "Yes sir. We can do it. For all those who have paid the ultimate price and for those future victims who will be rescued once this gets up and running…we CAN do it…we MUST do it…and they have to support it."

Hank's smile of pride would not be denied. He leaned back in his chair and continued. "Alright, we've already said that Chet could present the Baldwin Hills Reservoir to emphasize the addition of helicopters to our cache of weapons to use in rescues. And of course, Roy and John will discuss the addition of paramedics which will be the perfect segue into Ryleigh's first-hand experience yesterday. It'll all lead up to why this is so important and why it must not only be approved but supported to the fullest."

"I agree," Mike said raising his cup in affirmation.

"I agree too…um, what am I agreeing to?" Chet's sleepy voice asked as he trudged through the doorway in search of something to feed his grumbling belly.

"Latrine duty…what else?" Johnny was close on his heels but surprisingly alert considering the squad had been kept out longer than the engine on the motor vehicle collision run.

"Where're Marco and Roy?"

Johnny spun around looking behind him then returned to his position facing his Captain. "They were right behind me," he said raising a confused eyebrow.

"I hope somebody's cooking breakfast," Roy suggested.

"I can take a hint," Marco laughed pulling open the refrigerator door and removing a carton of eggs.

"Alright, men…gather around. I need to hand out assignments for the project."

"Finally, something I won't get latrine duty for," Chet mumbled.

"Don't be so sure, Pally. That all depends on how you do." Hank fought hard to keep his grin in check leaving the Irishman wondering if he might possibly get assigned the dreaded chore if he made a mistake in the presentation.

"We present it on Thursday at 10:00 am which means we'll only have one more shift together to finalize everything." Hank watched as the members of his crew pulled out chairs around the table, everyone seated where they had been the previous night. The only exception was Marco who was preparing breakfast but Hank knew that his older lineman was great at multitasking; he was such a talented cook and firefighter that he could listen while he continued his meal preparations.

"Ok…here's how we'd like for this to go…"

E!

Mike drove slower than he'd ever driven before as he turned into the parking lot of Town and Country Apartments. He was a little nervous and although he didn't want to be late, he certainly didn't want to appear overanxious either. Somehow, he'd left home earlier than he'd intended and now was arriving fifteen minutes early; even though he'd made a stop for flowers on his way. He pulled into a vacant parking spot just outside the gray and white building with the bold black 'F' on it and simply sat in his vehicle. He kept the engine running to cool down his light perspiration as well as keep fresh the bouquet of daisies, tulips and various greenery all surrounding three large sunflowers. Finally, after noticing more than one curious glance from some of the residents milling about the grounds, he decided he'd better stop looking like a lurking stalker and go ahead up the flight of stairs to apartment four.

Ryleigh took a quick peek at the chicken and rice casserole baking in the oven and smiled to herself. It was absolutely perfect so she turned it off leaving the door open just a crack. She wanted it to stay warm but not continue to cook. She lifted the lid on the green beans just to make sure they were still warm and then opened the refrigerator door to remove the grape salad she'd made earlier in the day. She cast a glance at the clock realizing that he would arrive soon and decided to go brush her hair down out of the ponytail she'd had it in all day. Just as she turned the corner out of her kitchen, there was a knock at her door. Her mussed up hair completely forgotten, she bounced to the door and opened it up.

"Hi," Mike began, holding the bouquet upright near his abdomen.

"Hello," Ryleigh tried to say more but the sight of him standing there offering her the most beautiful bouquet she'd ever seen simply took her breath away.

"I, uh, hope you like yellow," Mike blushed presenting her with his offering. "I would've brought wine but I didn't know what we were going to eat so I…uh."

"These are beautiful," she said gently accepting the flowers. "Won't you come in?"

Mike followed her to the kitchen area and removed a vase from the top shelf that she couldn't quite reach. He watched how she seemed to float around the room filling the vase with water and then arranging the flowers in it. She took it to the small kitchen table and set it in the middle.

"There, that's perfect," she proclaimed. "I just love the beauty of nature."

Mike agreed but his eyes were tuned in to a different type of natural beauty. He loved the fact that she hadn't seemed to be putting on a false front for him. He'd dated plenty of women but so many had seemed more interested in how they looked or how he looked in uniform than in anything else. It was almost as if a few were disappointed when he'd arrived to pick them up wearing street clothes. But Ryleigh had never seen him in his uniform so that wasn't an issue, so far. He wasn't the kind of guy who liked women who were overly made up and here she was, very little make up on and her hair back in a ponytail. It was as if their dinner date was the most casual event ever and he absolutely loved it.

Ryleigh turned around to face him and caught him staring at her. Suddenly, her eyes enlarged and she brought both hands up to her face. "Oh my god, Mike…I'm so sorry…I'm such a mess…I mean, I haven't even taken my hair down and…"

"Sshh," he crooned. "I was just standing here thinking how beautiful you looked because you aren't all fixed up. You have such natural beauty, Ryleigh. Please don't hide it." Oh where the hell did that come from, Stoker? Smooth move…now she thinks you're some sick psycho perverted Romeo… His rant of self-loathing was interrupted by her blushing face.

"Aww…really?" No one had ever called her beautiful before. She wore glasses and was a bookworm who loved history; not exactly the type of girl the popular boys went out with in high school and she'd been too busy in college to worry about romance.

"Yes, really," he affirmed, feeling a warmth spread across his entire body. He reached out briefly touching her chin. "How're the injuries?"

"Sore," she admitted, looking down at the bandages she'd replaced on her hands and knees. She lightly touched the band-aid on her chin, thankful that the damage to her face hadn't left her looking like she'd gone a couple of rounds with Muhammad Ali.

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence before Ryleigh remembered why he was here. "So, wanna eat first? It's all ready. Then we can get to work."

"You sure you're up to this?"

Her voice hesitated as she led him into the small kitchen. "Yea…it'll be good for me," she said pulling on the red and white striped oven mitts she removed from a drawer. She opened up the oven and removed the casserole; unable to hide the grimace the action caused her injured hands.

"Oh, geez…sorry," Mike felt awful for not realizing sooner that she might need a hand. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply allowing his olfactory sense to dominate momentarily. "Smells incredible. What can I do?"

"Well, my table isn't very large so we'll have to do this buffet-style. So just grab a plate and help yourself."

They enjoyed light conversation amid the tinkling sounds made by their silverware. Ryleigh smiled warmly as Mike enjoyed a second helping of her chicken and rice casserole. While he was an excellent cook, he always felt that food tasted better when someone else cooked it, as long as that someone didn't have the last name of Gage.

Mike pushed back away from the table patting his belly and puffing out his cheeks in a rush of air. "Miss Abrams that was one of the best meals I've ever eaten."

Her smile brightened her face and lit up her eyes. She tilted her head to the left looking at him slyly. "I'm glad you liked it. I've got cookies and coffee for us to snack on while we work," she said standing up and carrying their plates back into the kitchen. She giggled at the sound of Mike's pathetic gluttonous whimper.

"Mmmm, are you trying to make me fail my next physical?"

"Not at all," she said returning with a platter of oatmeal cookies and setting it down between them. "Coffee's perking so let's get started."

Three hours passed by much too quickly for either of them but by the time Mike stood up to leave, they had their plan in place. They had ideas for costumes and props needed and she had already contacted a couple of her friends who believed they could acquire the needed items. Hank was hosting a short rehearsal on Wednesday night so they could put the final touches on the presentation and she'd agreed to be there.

"Thank you so much for asking me to help with this," she said walking him to the door. "I know Mr. Huggins would be proud," she spoke softly, opening the door slowly. Truthfully, she didn't want the night to end.

"Thanks for agreeing to help us," Mike said turning around to face her as he stepped through the opening. "And I have no doubt that he'd be proud. Let's just keep our fingers crossed."

She stifled a giggle, tucking her chin down and twisting a section of hair flirtatiously. She watched Mike as he seemed to struggle with what to say or do next.

He cleared his throat, nervously. "Ahem, ah…dinner was delicious. Thank you for," he waved both hands in front of him, "for everything." He watched as she seemed to linger in the doorway and he briefly thought of asking her out or perhaps even risking a brief kiss. But, his insecurities crawled up his back and sat steadfastly on his shoulders. "Good night, Ryleigh," he ducked his head and forced a quick smile before he turned and walked away.

She closed the door, leaning her back against the cool wood then looked up at the ceiling exhaling a low sigh. She had really been hoping for a goodnight kiss but now, she was left wondering if maybe she'd done something wrong, misinterpreted his intentions. She trudged to her bathroom to brush her teeth. Even though it wasn't late, she was exhausted, having stayed awake into the early morning hours following the events at the library the day before. She flipped on the light then gasped at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes had dark circles beginning to appear matching the bruise that seemed to be leaking out from around the small bandage on her chin. Her ponytail had loosened and strands of chestnut hair hung down around her pale face. She tried to fight back the tears that threatened to spill over from her fatigued eyes but the effort was more than she could muster and so she removed her glasses and began to swipe at her stinging eyes. The last thirty-six hours had been traumatic to say the least but looking at herself the way Mike must have seen her was more than she could handle. Taking a step backwards, she sat down on the edge of her bathtub and silently sobbed.

E!

Tuesday morning had the men of Station 51 hustling before Hank had finished roll call. First the engine was toned out for a dumpster fire and before they returned the squad was dispatched to the local elementary school for a playground mishap. Fortunately, both incidents were minor; the injured trapeze artist only requiring a few stitches along his right eyebrow. Finally, Roy pulled up in front of the station and shifted into reverse to back the squad into the bay.

"Man, what is wrong with kids today?"

Roy eyed his partner suspiciously, certain that the younger man had seen his fair share of mishaps during his childhood. "You mean you never tried to hang by your knees on monkey bars and then swing to the next rung?"

"Nope," Johnny responded with absolute certainty. Before Roy could utter his objections beneath his upraised eyebrows, Johnny continued, "Didn't have any on the playground at my elementary school."

Both doors slammed hard echoing in the apparatus bay. Roy met his partner at the back of the squad. "Lucky for you, I'd say. You'd've probably broken your neck," he deadpanned.

Johnny screwed his face in mock agony pretending to remove a knife from his heart. "Aww, c'mon, Roy…that hurts."

"Not as badly as falling off the monkey bars would've," the senior man said pushing open the kitchen door.

At the sound of his medics returning, Hank looked up. "Ah, glad you're back. Johnny you're cooking and Roy, you've got dorm duty." Hank snapped his fingers in the air beside his face, "and don't forget tomorrow night at my place."

"Got it, Cap," Johnny said opening the refrigerator door for a glass of milk and to take a quick inventory of available condiments.

"Got my notes ready," Roy chimed in pouring himself a cup of coffee. He was about to offer his captain a cup when the tones bellowed out their call for the third time this morning.

"Station 51 structure fire with entrapment at…"

E!

Ryleigh awoke on Tuesday morning grateful for Spring Break. This gave her some additional time to gather up the necessary items for Thursday's presentation. She pulled out her spiral notebook where she and Mike had been making notes on the project. Today was the day she was going to make a sweep to all her friend's apartments to collect the items she and Mike had decided to use. She thought of Chet wearing a headset, giggling at the mental image of his curly hair sticking out around the piece of equipment attached to his head. He would also have a very large model helicopter to complete the story. Next she noted the need for a pair of worn looking leather boots and a replica of a Nott horse-drawn steam engine one of her friends had put together from pieces he'd found at a junkyard. From what she had been told, it was only two feet tall; the perfect size to match the hand carved wooden horse another friend was allowing her to borrow. Having friends who were liberal arts majors did have advantages.

The dinging of the timer in her kitchen pulled her briefly away from her chore. She removed the cookie sheet setting it on the stove to allow the last of the oatmeal cookies to cool before she moved them to the red cookie tin. After Mike had bragged on them, she decided to make a batch to drop off by Station 51 on her way to pick up the props. The thought immediately made her heart flutter nervously. She hadn't spoken to Mike since they'd worked on the project Sunday night. The aching she felt inside reminded her that the real reason she was baking the cookies for the station was to try to determine where she stood with the handsome engineer. Her reflection in the mirror after he left had created a wall of doubt inside her soul; doubt about how he felt about her and about his intentions. Whether or not she actually participated in the rehearsal had everything to do with how he reacted to her when she surprised him at the station later. She turned off the oven, removed her mitts and then resumed the task at hand.

She continued going over her list while the cookies cooled. A silver helmet for Marco was next; he'd be bringing his own axe and training manual. Then the microphone and small eight millimeter camera were written beside Roy's name. He would look so professional giving his account of the O'Connor Electroplating Company explosion as if he were a reporter. Goggles and an antique looking life jacket were chosen for Johnny's fireboat story. He and Roy would be bringing their own uniforms, the biophone, and drug box as props for their talk about adding paramedics to the fire department. She had thought long and hard about the La Tuna Canyon Fire and had decided that Chet and Marco should wear their dress uniforms and slip a piece of black ribbon around their badges as they gave the account of the auto fireman's ultimate sacrifice in 1955. Finally, she jotted down notes about various pieces of vintage style fire department uniforms including a couple of what had been described to her as 'very gaudy' looking helmets that her friends had assured her did reflect the look of the period. Mike had already told her about Roy and Johnny's turn of the century uniforms that they would be bringing for use as well.

As soon as she had filled the cookie tin with the cooled cookies, she locked up her apartment with a loud sigh. She had to admit, talking about something so personal to a group of strangers wasn't what bothered her the most. She was beginning to question whether or not her story of finding Mr. Huggins unconscious in his car would be enough proof of the need for approval of the project. The more she thought about Thursday, the more she had to admit that she was truly having second thoughts about her part of the presentation.

Across town, the tones called Engineer Stoker into his appointed seat on the Ward LaFrance while his captain climbed into the officer's seat and the two linemen bolted into their jump seats. Roy and Johnny assumed their positions inside the squad with an increased sense of urgency. Mike watched as the bay doors rose then pulled the engine out behind the squad into the yielding traffic feeling an all too familiar tightness in his gut; the kind of discomfort the entire crew felt when they knew they were making a run where a life was in jeopardy.

E!

Ryleigh hummed to herself as she drove down East Boyle Street on her way to pick up the pedal fire truck. Her route took her by the station where she hoped to spend a few minutes with a certain engineer. She could smell the fresh baked oatmeal cookies sitting in the seat beside her and couldn't wait to share them with the crew. She flipped on her blinker signaling her intention to turn left onto East 223rd Street as soon as the light turned green. The brick building quickly came into view and she slowed down as she neared Station 51 but was disappointed when she realized the bay was empty. She continued on her way to complete her errands hoping the crew would return by the time she made her way back home later in the afternoon.

E!

It took much longer to complete her prop run than she imagined it would and she had no idea just how heavy metal pedal cars were until she and another woman had struggled to lift it into her trunk. Now, she slowly made her way back to the station in Carson, cringing every time she made a turn and heard the pedal car ram into the side of her trunk.

"Oh boy, I hope Mike can put this thing on the back of his truck," she grumbled to herself knowing her trunk would never be the same after this particular excursion.

She made the left turn bringing the station into view and saw the engine being backed into the apparatus bay. A bright smile swept across her face knowing that if the men were returning from a call then they would likely appreciate the culinary gift that sat in her passenger's seat.

Roy and Johnny dragged their tired bodies out of the squad slamming their doors harder than usual. Johnny leaned his forearm on the compartment doors and propped his sweaty head against his equally moist and soot covered wrist. He could hear Mike backing the engine into the bay beside him and knew that the engine crew was feeling just as badly as he and Roy were.

Mike shut off the engine, pushing open his door and swinging down; his descent to the concrete flooring seemingly made more rapid by the added weight of guilt resting firmly on his now slumping shoulders. He removed his turnout coat draping it along the front bumper ready for the next call then caught Johnny's dark eyed stare. He nodded his head in understanding as Chet and Marco shuffled heavy feet away from the engine and toward the kitchen. Hank saw the two men sharing looks of despair and his heart ached for them. He understood their hurt and found it ironic that the most expressive and the least expressive among his crew were silently communicating their grief and frustration.

"Come on, fellas…gotta rehydrate," he said patting both men on the back and directing them towards the kitchen where he could already hear the clattering sounds of ice cubes in glasses and running water.

A gentle knock on the side door caused Roy to look up from his second glass of water. He opened the door welcoming her in but couldn't bring himself to offer her even the semblance of a smile. "Hey, Ryleigh…come on in."

"Bad run," she asked afraid she already knew the answer?

"Yea…code F…and we witnessed her death," he looked back down at the streaks of blood on his shirt. "I'm sorry, I need to go change."

"No..no, Roy…not on my account," she said as her countenance fell, shifting her gaze looking for a certain member of the crew. Finally, she saw him coming through the doorway along with Hank and Johnny and immediately her heart broke. His face was streaked with dirt, soot and what she assumed was sweat although his red eyes made her question the origin of at least some of the moisture. His normally broad shoulders were rounded by stress and his usual confident stride had diminished to a lumbering gait. She was conflicted between running to him to offer her support and giving him the space he needed to recover from what Roy had described to her. She didn't need the gruesome details to know that whatever this six man crew had just experienced was horrific. She set the cookie tin on the table when finally, compassion for the longing look on his face as their eyes met moved her swiftly to his side where neither of them hesitated to embrace the other. She didn't care that her clothes were being stained – nothing mattered at that moment except Mike.

Mike's world was blurring around him when he saw her reaching out for him and he quickly clutched her within his embrace. It took every ounce of strength he could muster not to break down at the feeling of her breathing against his neck. It was the feeling of life and it felt remarkable. He couldn't speak but then again, he didn't need to; his hands gripped her tightly as he breathed in the scent of her shampoo. He felt her embrace linger as her fingers gently massaged his back through his sweat covered shirts. "Wh..what are you doing here?" He released her just enough to look into her eyes as he waited to hear her answer.

"I, uh…well, I brought you guys some cookies," she said pointing to the red cookie tin on the kitchen table. "And I've been out collecting the stuff for the presentation."

He tried to smile but was only partially successful. "Thank you, Ryleigh. That was so thoughtful of you."

Familiar voices around them began to speak up. Hank was reminding them all to drink plenty of water. Chet and Marco were mumbling while Johnny opened up the cookie tin; the delicious smell finally penetrating the fog of misery around him.

"Mmmm, gonna need milk with these," he offered Ryleigh a smile of appreciation that didn't make it to his eyes.

"Yes…thank you," Hank said with what appeared to be a genuine smile.

She remained at the station for at least an hour listening to bits and pieces of the harrowing story of their last run. They seemed to need to talk about it and for reasons she didn't fully understand at the moment, she needed to listen. Finally, she knew what she needed to do.

"Listen…I, uh…I can't make it to the rehearsal tomorrow night but I promise to be there Thursday." She waited for the backlash but there was none. The guys were simply too depleted to actually digest her comment. "Can you help me get the props out of my car, Mike? I want you to have them for the rehearsal," she said tugging on his arm gently.

Mike followed her out to her car and together they transferred the boxes from her car to the back of his truck, including the heavy pedal car. When he saw it, he couldn't help but allow a smile to light up his features. "I guess this is what I'm using?"

Glad to see his personality making an appearance, she returned his grin with one of her own. "Yep…got a special helmet for you too," she joked pulling out a very ornate looking replica of an antique fire helmet.

His snickering response warmed her heart and when his eyes met hers the warmth spread throughout her body.

"Thank you just doesn't seem like enough," his crystal blue eyes flickered looking deeply into her green orbs. "When this is over…well, can I take you out for dinner and a movie?"

"You don't have to do that," she responded not wanting him to feel that he owed her anything.

"I know," he hesitated licking his lips and moving a little closer to her. "But, I want to; I want to get to know you better."

"I'd really like that," she said then swallowed hard as he leaned his head down kissing her softly on the lips. When he pulled back slightly to look at her again, she could see hesitation on his lips. "What?"

He gave her a slight smirk. "You don't really have a…um, conflict with tomorrow night, do you?"

"Not really…but I do need to work on my part of the presentation…and you guys need some time to sort through what happened today. You don't need me around for that." She felt his hands run down the length of her arms then lightly clasp her hands.

"Ryleigh Abrams…you are one amazing woman," he said before quietly turning to head back inside the station.

"Michael Stoker…you are one amazing man yourself," she mused then headed for her car with a new determination in her soul and a few details she needed to get from Vince Howard. Thursday had to be absolutely perfect and for the first time, she felt that what she could add to the presentation just might be up to par with what the men from Station 51 were going to present. They can't say no to us…they HAVE to approve it. They WILL approve it!

E!

A/N: Thank you for all the wonderful encouragement I've received while writing this story. Sharing your thoughts – both what you liked and what didn't work – has really kicked my muse in gear. One more chapter to go and I hope to get it posted soon. Thanks again for reading.