A/N: Thank you to everyone who is reading and especially those who leave reviews and PM's. You questions, comments, and corrections definitely make this story a better read. Also, thank you to my proof-reader.

Hank's Haunting – 21

Dr. Brackett looked around the room at the men from 51's, but his eyes settled on the bruised woman sitting directly in front of him. "Mrs. Stanley, has his behavior, his demeanor, changed since the loss of the firefighter under his command? Has your relationship changed recently?" He was trying to simply get her talking more than asking for specifics. He wanted to see where she would take the conversation.

Rebecca thought a moment before answering. She knew of one definite change and felt the warmth of a blush rising around her neck. "He's not really himself anymore. He's easily frustrated, and just seems unhappy." Rebecca looked into her lap, her mind sending her back in time to that horrible event. She felt Mike pull her tighter, realizing then just how badly she was shaking. She looked up into the stern, but caring eyes of Dr. Brackett. "Yes, our relationship has, uh, changed since that…," was all she could manage to utter, feeling her throat constricting. She coughed slightly to clear it, embarrassment coloring her cheeks for what she was about to say, but she knew that it might be important. "Dr. Brackett, we haven't, um, been intimate since before it happened."

The physician's blue eyes searched the reddening face of the woman sitting before him, knowing how difficult it must have been for her to say that in front of Hank's crew. He needed more details in order to continue his assessment, and so he pressed on. "Has he lost interest in sex, or does it seem to be more of a physical issue?"

"No interest in me, I guess. We, ah, we haven't even tried," she said, dropping her chin even further, and rubbing her forehead with her fingers. This was not a discussion she wanted to have with so many young men present, but she knew by Dr. Brackett's reaction that it was important. She also knew that having Hank's crew here with her, supporting her during this difficult time, far outweighed any potential embarrassment the revelation might cause.

"All of you," the physician began, looking around the room. "I need to know details about your relationship with Hank recently, and how you've seen his behavior change. Even the tiniest bit of information that you think isn't important could hold the key."

"He seems really stressed, and he's drinking pots of coffee," Marco said, starting the conversation for the group, relieving Rebecca for a moment. "He seems like he's going to explode in a fit of rage any minute."

Dr. Brackett nodded at Marco's description. He then turned to the rest of the group. "What else have you noticed?" Dr. Brackett pushed forward, not wanting to put any words into their mouths. His suspicions were only that - suspicions.

"He's, ahem, distant…" Rebecca looked away, staring at the wall. "H-he blames himself for what happened that night."

"Ugh," Chet groaned, knowing exactly how that felt. He watched as Rebecca's chin began to quiver, and quickly passed her a napkin.

"Thank you," she quietly whispered, wiping her eyes and nose. "Doctor, he stopped eating right, and then… Then the nightmares..."

The ears of the men perked up; especially Marco's and Roy's. They locked eyes, each reading the mind of the other. Was this what had happened to her face? Did their captain hurt her during a nightmare just like what he had done to Chet a little while ago?

Chet, as so often happened, allowed his mouth to shift into gear prior to his brain cranking up. "Did he hit you during a nightmare, too?"

If looks could kill, Chester B. Kelly would have died in that lounge only seconds after those words left his lips.

"Chet, damn it," Johnny mumbled through gritted teeth, not wanting Mrs. Stanley to hear him swear, yet feeling the need to admonish the Irishman.

"Ow!" Chet yelped, as Marco's elbow connected with his ribs. "I was just askin'?"

Mike heard the sharp intake of breath from Mrs. Stanley, and knew that Chet's insensitive remark had upset her. He tried to soothe the crying woman who leaned her face into his chest, heaving sobs racking her slim frame.

Dr. Brackett wasn't happy with the less than tactful phrase the lineman had uttered, but he wasn't seriously upset by it, either. Chet had broken the proverbial ice by getting right to the point. He knew the other men in the room would take care of their big-mouthed lineman, so he focused his efforts on the weeping woman. He reached out, gripping her hand in his; a move he rarely ever used with the family of a patient. But, Hank Stanley wasn't just a patient; he was a friend. He instinctively knew that Rebecca needed more than mere words at the moment, and wanted to assist Mike in encouraging her to continue the conversation.

Chet realized, albeit too late, that the wording he had used to phrase his question had upset her. He saw and heard her weeping, and his own guilt-ridden heart started breaking. "Ah, geez, I-I'm really sorry, Mrs. Cap. I didn't mean it the way it sounded. I just, I mean, I thought maybe…"

Rebecca sniffled, turning her tear-streaked face in the direction of the stuttering young man. "No, it- it's ok, Chet. It's just that… Roy, Marco, did you think that Hank had…," she cleared her throat, struggling to ask her question. "Had hit me… The night you brought him home drunk?"

Roy and Marco exchanged worried glances, shifting their positions in their discomfort. Neither one wanted to answer her question. Dr. Brackett logged the comment about excessive drinking away for the moment, wanting to obtain as much information as he could while the group was talking freely.

"I was afraid you didn't believe me. It's ok," she continued, returning her gaze to her lap. "I-I'm sorry I lied to you that night." She returned her eyes to Dr. Brackett who was still gently holding her hand, then quickly gave Chet a reassuring glance. "Yes, Chet," she said, feeling a little stronger. "Yes, he did hit me with his elbow when he was thrashing around, calling out for Kyle," she paused, searching her soul for the strength to continue.

"I'm very sorry, Mrs. Stanley," Dr. Brackett consoled.

"Then, when I tried to wake him up, he just…," she sucked in a ragged breath. "He opened his eyes but, he didn't see me. H-he grabbed my arms and threw me off the bed. My face slammed into the door facing of our bathroom, cutting my lip. He didn't wake up until he fell out of bed himself, still struggling with whatever he was fighting in his dream, and he slammed his arm on the nightstand, breaking the lamp." She took a moment to blow her nose, her tears streaming down her face. "When he saw me, bleeding on the floor, h-he was so upset." She looked back up at the men in the room. "With God as my witness, my husband has never, ever hit me, intentionally. Please, please believe me, you've gotta be-lieve m-me...," she crumbled again into Mike's strong embrace. She couldn't allow Hank's men to think of him as a batterer.

"I'm so sorry, Rebecca," Mike whispered. He heard shuffling footsteps, and looked up to see Roy and Marco kneeling down on either side of her.

"Mrs. Stanley?" Roy spoke softly. "I'm very sorry that the thought ever crossed my mind. I know now what happened, we both do," he said, quickly looking at Marco for a nod of approval before continuing. "And we're sorry that we suspected differently."

"Mostly," Marco whispered. "Mostly sorry that you didn't feel comfortable telling us what was really happening. I don't know what we could've done but, but we would've tried to help, somehow."

Kelly Brackett quietly backed out of the circle of firemen now surrounding Rebecca Stanley. He listened intently to the conversation, making mental notes as the people who had been silently watching his patient self-destruct, began to share their recent experiences with each other. His answer could be found in their statements; he was sure of it. He just needed to pay attention to everything being said, in order to find it.

"It's ok, Marco, really… I was just so, I don't know, ashamed to tell anyone, I guess. I wish I had now," she said, drying her eyes again. She was beginning to feel an unseen weight lifting off her shoulders.

"What about the girls?"

"No, Roy, they don't even… Well, that isn't entirely true. Missy thought he'd hit me, too but… I did explain it to her. I don't think Victoria suspects anything, although, she does know that her Dad is grumpy all the time."

"The kitchen fire, was that…?" Johnny began asking the question, but was interrupted.

"No, no, that happened just the way we said. He shoved me out of the way before my clothes caught fire, and I fell into the corner of the table. He was just trying to protect me, and put the fire out. That's all," she adamantly defended.

Chet sensed that Rebecca needed an emotional break, and he picked up the conversation. "His eyes were open but, I swear, he was looking through me when he hit me," Chet mused, remembering the wild-eyed look of his captain as his balled up fist punched the young lineman in the jaw. "He's been really pissed off at me since my foot injury though, so I kinda hate he won't remember it," he chuckled nervously to himself. "He deserves to at least remember doing what I know he's wanted to do for a long time."

"You aren't the only one he's been mad at, Chet. He's been a smart ass to me for weeks…," Mike gulped, his uncharacteristic swear had slipped out in front of Rebecca. "I'm sorry, ma'am."

"It's alright, I understand. He really has been a bear, hasn't he?"

"You can say that again," Johnny piped in. "He's… Well, he doesn't do things with us anymore, either. He rarely eats his meals with us, and he never watches television with us anymore, not even a movie. He even turns us down when we ask him to play card games, or shoot some hoops."

"He hasn't been sleeping at all at the station, either. What about at home?" Mike asked.

"Not much but then again, I, um, I had to start sleeping in the guest room so, I-I really can't say. But, I know for several days after the incident, he was awake when I went to bed, and awake when I got up."

Mike continued with his train of thought, "he also has been feeling dizzy and has had some nausea too."

"Man, I really feel like we messed up, fellas. We should've done somethin' sooner," Johnny complained to the group.

"No," Dr. Brackett spoke up, reinserting himself into the conversation. "No self-recrimination here. This is good information you're sharing, and that's all that matters. And I know it goes without saying but... What's said in here STAYS in here. It's too private to be discussed with anyone else. Understand?"

"No need to worry about that, Doc. We take care of each other; we protect each other, and not just from fires," Mike explained.

Dr. Brackett gave a relieved nod to the normally quiet engineer, the man who had probably spoken more in the last few minutes than the physician had heard him say in a year. Dr. Brackett continued his encouraging words, directing them to the entire group. "We can't change the past, but we can change his future… The future for all of you."

"Dr. Brackett?" Rebecca's meek voice rose above the deeper voices of the men. "Does any of this make sense? Do you know what's wrong with him?"

The tired physician thought long and hard before he answered her question. "Not entirely, no. I think it's obvious, with his lack of interest in normally enjoyable activities that he's suffering from some depression, which is to be expected in this situation. It seems that he hasn't been taking the Temazepam as prescribed but, even so, his behavior is not what I'd expect from someone taking the drug. Mixing it with enough alcohol to get too inebriated to drive is very dangerous. Adding the caffeine pills could certainly explain his vomiting as the gastrointestinal side effects caused by high doses of caffeine include nausea and vomiting. His elevated blood pressure could be the result of the stress, lack of sleep, extra caffeine, and a dozen other things. The same goes for the dizziness," he expounded as he glanced around, staring at the worried faces. "Still doesn't explain why the Temazepam didn't work though. That part is still a mystery." He looked back at Mrs. Stanley. "You mentioned him coming home drunk; is he drinking alcohol more than normal?"

"Just that once when Marco and Roy brought him home from Cinders. He, he is an occasional or a social drinker, I guess you could say. He doesn't normally drink to excess. In fact, that was the only time I've ever seen him drunk, Dr. Brackett, and we've been married for nearly twenty years," she said softly. "He knows too many firemen who've become alcoholics from the stress, so h-he just doesn't drink like that. I mean, Roy barely got him to the bathroom before he started throwing up that night." The alarm in her voice was evident. "Then he basically passed out as soon as Roy and Marco got him in bed."

"It's very likely that the Temazepam increased the effects of the alcohol, if he'd taken one prior to drinking. He may have consumed his usual amount, but with very different effects on his body." He hoped he was reducing her fears of her husband's perceived excessive imbibing.

"But if he isn't taking it correctly, then could it have the same effect on his personality as the alcohol had on his body? Could it exaggerate his emotions like this?" Chet asked.

"I'm afraid not. It should be working to help him settle down and sleep, when he does take it. I do have him on fluids now along with a beta blocker and, surprisingly, he seems to be calming down. He isn't telling me to, uh, kiss his ass, anymore," he said, offering an apologetic smile to Mrs. Stanley.

"Cap said that to you?" Johnny questioned, a hint of his half grin making its way to his chiseled face. Truthfully, he'd wanted to tell Dr. Brackett the same thing a few times himself.

"Yes, he did," Dr. Brackett responded, a faint smile quickly appearing then fading away.

Embarrassment colored Rebecca's face. "I'm so sorry, Dr. Brackett, all of you," she said, looking around at the crew. "This is so unlike him. I hate you've endured all of this."

"It's ok, Mrs. Cap," Chet spoke up for the group. "We know it isn't him. But, we want our Cap'n Stanley back just as much as you want your husband back," he said with sincerity.

"And that's exactly what I intend to do. I'm not giving up until the Hank Stanley we all know is back with us," Dr. Brackett said, standing up and shoving his hands into the pockets of his lab coat. "Let me see if he's in a room, and then I'll personally escort you up, Mrs. Stanley." His smile was genuine.

"Thank you, doctor," she began, then looked around the room. "Thanks to all of you. I-I don't know what would've happened if he'd been assigned to any other station back when…," she began to weep again, her words lodging in her throat as her emotions sealed it off.

"Just try to regain your composure for a few minutes while I check on him, then we'll go see him," Dr. Brackett said pulling open the door of the staff lounge.

E!

Just as Dr. Brackett made the right turn back towards treatment room three, he saw one of his new residents reviewing a chart at the nurse's station. He felt a bit defensive when he realized who the chart belonged to. "Is there a problem, Dr. Harrison?"

"Oh, no Dr. Brackett," the nervous man replied, closing the chart quickly. "I was wondering if I might speak with you for a moment, though?"

"I'm afraid I've got a patient who needs my attention right now. Can it wait?" The older physician asked.

"Is Hank Stanley the patient you are going to see?" Dr. Harrison was hoping he wasn't pushing his nose into a situation where it didn't belong, but the memory of Mrs. Stanley lying on the exam table crying and in pain made him stiffen his spine.

Dr. Brackett felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. "Why do you ask?" He questioned, narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest.

"Because that's who I need to talk to you about. I may have some information that you need to know about," the young man stated, wanting desperately to run from the confrontation he felt was imminent, but knowing he needed to do the right thing.

Dr. Brackett studied his resident a little longer, sizing him up before he acquiesced. "Very well," he began, pulling the chart from the counter. "Let's go to my office. Dixie?"

"Yes, Kel?"

"Is Hank in a room?" He asked, watching the red haired physician make his way down the hallway.

"Yes, 221."

Dr. Brackett looked at the staff lounge door then back at Dixie. "Would you escort Mrs. Stanley up for a visit with her husband? I'll be up to talk with them both, shortly." He turned to head to his office, then suddenly turned back to his emergency room nurse. "Oh, uh, stay with them until I get there, please?"

"Sure thing," Dixie replied with a smile.

E!

Dr. Brackett pushed his office door closed then took a seat behind his heavy wooden desk. He felt no qualms about using his authority to intimidate the younger physician, especially since Dr. Harrison had been reading the notes in a chart of a patient he was not attending.

"Alright, what is it YOU want to discuss with me relating to MY patient?" Dr. Brackett couldn't resist the emphasis he used to remind the young resident who Hank Stanley's physician was during this hospitalization.

"Are you aware that I treated his wife recently for burns she sustained in a house fire?"

"I'm aware of her injuries," Dr. Brackett quipped back.

"Well, Sally Lewis was assisting me with Mrs. Stanley and we both ….," he hesitated, shifting in his seat. "Um, we suspect that she is suffering from Battered Woman Syndrome." Dr. Harrison breathed a sigh of relief.

"And what if I disagree?" Dr. Brackett crossed his arms again, leaning back in his oversized desk chair.

"Well, then, um, I guess...," Dr. Harrison stumbled over his words, stunned at the reaction he was receiving.

Kelly Brackett, leaned forward again, intertwining his fingers atop the closed chart. He saw how nervous the younger man was becoming, but he also knew that, even though he was still green as a doctor, his instincts had been correct. Dr. Brackett couldn't allow his personal interest or his ego hinder this young man. "Look, I can assure you that Rebecca Stanley is not a battered woman, at least, not in the way you suspect. However, I must admit that your instincts are good. You picked up on something that very few young physicians ever would, so early in their career."

Dr. Harrison raised his eyebrows, unsure how to take what he was hearing from his mentor.

"You've got good skills, Dr. Harrison. In your shoes, I'd probably assume the same thing. You've done well to bring your suspicions to me, and I commend you for it. However, there's more to this story than what you're aware of, so far."

"Ok, so you know what's going on with her?" The nervous man asked.

"Yes… It's Hank I'm not completely certain about," he said, opening up the fire captain's chart. "I'd like to consult with you on this case, Dr. Harrison."

The younger man's green eyes lit up brightly. "Seriously? Y-you want to consult with me?"

"Yes, I do. You have a keen eye for this type situation. Not to mention the fact that I've known this family for several years now. Maybe I'm overlooking something because of my familiarity. Here, read my notes, and then let me share with you what I just heard from those closest to my patient. Maybe you can give me some insight into what's going on with him?"

"Oh, I'd be honored, Dr. Brackett," the young man said accepting the chart and reading through the scratchy handwriting. When he had finished, he looked up at Dr. Brackett who was now perched on the corner of his desk. He listened intently at the details the older physician had not yet documented in the chart, and slowly the pieces began to fit together in his young mind.

"Dr. Brackett, could this be a paradoxical reaction to the drug?"

Kelly Brackett raised both eyebrows. He looked down at the young physician whose knee was bouncing, nervously. "Well, I'll be damned," he grunted, sliding off the edge of his desk, walking over to the window in his office. "I have to be honest, Dr. Harrison. That really never even crossed my mind. I've prescribed Temazepam for so long with very few problems and… I just never considered the possibility." He turned back around to look at the other man in the room. He could tell by the reaction on the young man's face that he wasn't sure if his mentor was being sarcastic or not. "Tell me, have you ever seen a paradoxical reaction to Temazepam?"

"Well, no sir, but… I have seen one in a kid who took a different drug, diphenhydromine, and… Kid was literally sliding down the banister of the stairs in his parents' house. Then he'd run back up the stairs, two or three at a time, and do it again. He was acting wild and crazy just giggling and laughing. He should've been sleepy but it didn't make him groggy, at all."

"When did this happen?" Dr. Brackett quizzed.

"About fifteen years ago now," the resident grinned. "I haven't taken any since."

"You?" Dr. Brackett snickered.

"Yes sir. I'd never heard the term 'paradoxical reaction' before then, but I've never forgotten it, even though I was fairly young at the time."

Dr. Brackett rubbed his chin with his fingers, contemplatively. He then returned to his seat, pulling the chart back and reading his notes again. "Yes… Yes, I see it now. How did I miss it before?"

"Because you weren't an unbiased observer," he responded.

"I suppose you're right. You'll make a damn fine diagnostician one day, kid," he grinned. "Just stay away from the Benedryl."

Dr. Harrison stood up to leave. "Thank you, Dr. Brackett. Thank you for believing in me enough to consult with me."

"Two things I learned several years ago, primarily from a couple of Hank Stanley's men," he nodded his head in the direction of the lounge where those same men now waited for word on their captain. "Never use the knowledge gained from a book to override knowledge gained in the field, with real patients in real situations. And secondly, never discredit a man's abilities based solely on his youth." Dr. Brackett slapped the younger man on the back. "Care to make my rounds with me? I have a patient I'd like for you to meet."

E!

"Can I get you some water or coffee, maybe?" Roy asked Rebecca.

"Water would be good, please."

Mike gave her one final squeeze then stood up stretching his aching back. He hadn't realized just how tense he was until Dr. Brackett left. He stepped over to the coffee pot to pour himself a cup. The other men seemed to have found a spot near the window to gather, and continue their previous discussions of their captain.

Roy returned with the cup of water, taking a seat beside Rebecca. He watched as she gulped down half of it, knowing how difficult the impromptu group session must have been for her. "Better?"

Rebecca looked at him with a smile. "Yes, much. Thank you, Roy. You fellas have been so good to me and Hank through all of this."

"We're a family. We'll always be here for you and him too, if he'll let us." Roy wasn't sure if their captain would ever have the same relationship with his crew as they had shared prior to the tragedy.

"You're right. I want to tell you how much it helped me for Joanne to come visit me yesterday. And she brought me the most beautiful bouquet of flowers too," Rebecca said, finally allowing a smile to creep along her face. "We…," her voice faded slightly as the memory of the younger woman holding her while she cried, ran through her mind. "We had a very good visit. Tell her how much I appreciate her for doing that, please?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said, seeing Johnny stepping their way. Just as Johnny got close enough to hear the conversation, Rebecca spoke the words that hit Roy emotionally just as hard as Hank's fist had hit Chet earlier.

"Oh, and tell her I said congratulations on her new job. I was so upset yesterday that, I'm afraid I was rude when she told me about it. I do hope she enjoys working there," Rebecca took another drink from the cup of water, never noticing the stunned look on Roy's face.

"Ma-ma'am?" He stuttered, looking up at Johnny who seemed just as perplexed by her statement.

"Her new job. You know, at Bloomers. The florist?" Quickly, Rebecca gasped; Roy's surprise was unmistakable.

"Um, did I say something wrong? You do know about her job, right?" Rebecca felt her insides quake and her thighs grow weak, grateful to be sitting down at the moment.

"Ah, no… No, I haven't had a chance to speak to her yet today. When did she get a job?" Roy was seething inside. How could his own wife take a job outside the home, and tell Rebecca before she told him?

"Oh dear… Well, it was a surprise to her too, I think. She said she went to pick up the flowers for me, and the florist offered her a job, right there on the spot. I-I'm sorry, Roy. I shouldn't have said anything until she told you but… I, uh, I assumed she had discussed it with you." She brought a shaky hand up to her mouth just as the lounge door opened again.

"You ready to see that husband of yours?" Dixie asked, smiling brightly at the embarrassed woman.

Rebecca glanced back at her husband's senior paramedic, knowing he was upset by what she had just said. She felt torn, unable to take back the words she had spoken, and yet feeling happy that Hank was well enough for her to visit with him. She just hoped he was beginning to return to the Hank Stanley she loved. Maybe, she hadn't done too much damage to Roy, she thought to herself as she followed the emergency room nurse out the door.