~ Safe in the Arms of Love ~
"Is that someone down there on the beach, Capt.? Must've decided they were safer down there. And they've got a big dome tent." Marco reported, pointing down a very steep incline, part of the trail had collapsed.
"They were correct, that section of the beach is certainly big and high enough to stay dry when the tide comes in and still not let anyone on it get burned by this fire."Captain Hank Stanley replied. "Still, we can't just leave them there, nobody can make that climb, now that the trail's fallen in. Better send a chopper...but I expect that can wait until we're done."
"That's a...I think they have a walker. Better tell Central someone with mobility issues got clear on their own, but will probably need help getting off that beach." Mike noted aloud.
"They've got a large surf-fishing rig set up, with a big rod, too, sir. I guess whoever that is decided they might as well still try to get some dinner. The person seems to be setting up a firepit, probably for cooking on later." Chet commented wryly. "Seems to be a practical sort."
Several fire fighters watched the fisher's methodical efforts for a bit. She looked up and waved...and they waved back.
"Well, whoever that is, is both careful and knows what they're doing...and there's plenty of driftwood down there to use." Roy commented. "It's refreshing, really."
"Ain't that the truth, she's using an ax to cut it into sensible sizes, too." Gage rumbled. "Also, she knows when she's being watched. Looks like some kind of brace in her hand, though. She's something we might want to check out ourselves, later, Roy."
"True. Walker, brace and stranded isn't good combination."
"She's alert, that's good. More than can be said for whatever idiot started this." Their captain sighed. "Well, back to it, you guys."
When an assigned chopper was finally sent to overfly the beach, a large sign had been laid out with driftwood. He raised an eyebrow.
Gage on board? No? Not flying this gal ANYWHERE. I hate flyin' and you know it...even Roy can't calm me down enough by himself. Bring Johnny or I keep my feet on the ground where they belong or better, send both on a LACFD or Forestry/Sea Patrol launch.
Go away, Charlie, 1, 2, 3, 4, 7 or 10...and whoever is new, and oh, yeah, Billy Horsha...AND Hugh this most certainly DOES mean you: You are NOT special and you fly like a deaf, crippled, drunk bat.
(Nothing personal, mind you, Billy H.: I just like you loads better on the ground! You're a lot more fun on bumper cars!)
"Well, she remembered all the pilots...and has a really good point about Hugh." Bill muttered. "LA, I don't think the lady stranded on the beach likes flying, she laid out a message in driftwood and has specifically requested assistance from squad 51 and a Forestry, Sea Patrol or LACFD launch. She's listed all our pilots by callsign, EXCEPT Hugh and I, called me by name: said she likes me a lot better when I'm on the ground..and that I'm more fun on bumper cars...and accuses Hugh of having the flight skill of a deaf, crippled, drunk bat. She does have a point about Hugh, actually." Bill Horsha reported, "She requests pilot absence...and I need fuel anyway. Whoever it is, she knows us and she wants John Gage if she has to be flown out anyway. Badly wants him if I'm any judge. I can feel her panic from here."
"That's certainly odd, haven't had that request since...oh, my, might be...well, only one way to find out, she likes Tailor doesn't she? She's not fond of Ghat, I don't think. Then again, if that's who I suspect, she's also tasted his cooking, so...: 10-4 copter 7, U.S. Fish And Game Officer Ernest Tailor, Sea Patrol Launch 4, meet squad 51 at Marina 1, squad 51 you have been specifically requested to assist the young lady stranded on the beach, be advised, Gage's presence had been requested if flight is required, please respond to..."
"There she is. Looks like she's already started supper." Roy chuckled as he and John grounded the forestry's launch they were in and anchored it to the dry part of the beach.
"Nice sized grouper, too. I just hope it's also legal because she clearly knows what she's doing with grouper...those fish-steaks smell real good, she's made enough for all of us to have seconds and I'm rather hungry." The federal game warden sighed and headed up the beach. She saw them coming, got out three more plastic plates and had her fishing license, complete with the salt stamp on it, ready for him. While he looked it over, raising his eyebrow at both grouper and shark stamps also on it, she filled all the plates. She had hush-puppies frying and several veggies cooking in pots on the fire alongside long-cut grouper filets, breaded ones.
"We're not in any rush, are we? You three can settle down and have supper with me before we pack me up, can't you?"
Roy's lips twitched as he sat on the sand on one side of her and took the offered plate. "No, no hurry."
Johnny chuckled and sat on her other side. "Beats the tar outta what they're gettin' at the station." He took eager possession of his supper. "Chet's cooking: Mac and cheese."
"Or my station, for that matter. I'd be glad for the mac and cheese, though." The Game Warden traded her license for the loaded plate with a broad grin. "It's Ghat's turn." He settled in on the other side of the fire-pit.
For some odd reason, the girl shuddered at those words. Then she said, "You poor bastard: I'd rather eat Stoker's first attempt at white chocolate candy, than Ghat's notion of food, that didn't even make good compost. Mike's homemade soap tasted better: Much better, actually."
Roy stared at her...she looked up into his confused eyes, not understanding at first, but as realization dawned, she looked at him in growing horror, then she slowly backed toward Gage, looked up in dread, got a reassuring smile and a steadying hand run down her back. She relaxed, leaning against him. Her pale face, the eyes filling with both a lost look and tears, the trembling of the slender body were answered with a hug that had absolutely no resemblance to professional distance at all, but now John was glaring at his partner.
"Gage? Why are you angry?"
"Let it go, John. It's not worth having you two at odds. You need each other too much." She told him quietly, causing both the warden and Roy to stare at her.
"Sweetheart..." John had his hand on her cheek by then to make her look at him.
"He wouldn't really change his mind, would he?"
"Oh, Hell no."
"Then, he'll catch on eventually. We'll get past it. We always do."
He subsided, but he also helped her move to his other side. He hurt for her because it meant she was running from, instead of to Roy, for the first time in her life
"Eat your suppers, then Ernest can get the food acquisition rigs in, John can pack up the camping gear and Roy can get me set up. I am not going to be able to use the ladder on the launch...so I'll let him do the poking and prodding." John watched her worriedly, her voice trembled a bit for all the brave front she was trying to put on...for him, he thought, not for herself.
"Miss?" Roy didn't understand her wince or John's scowl at his use of the polite term. "Do you know Tailor?"
"Does a frog bump his ass every time he jumps?" Gage snapped.
She swallowed the hurt and just said. "Sprained my knee in Tucson. I can't use steps with that leg, so any form of ladder...no thanks."
"Which leg?" John asked.
"The one with the turkey cluebus on the front." She was referring to a distinctive wishbone shaped scar she'd had since she was nine. "The one I had to get redone by Joe, after the idiot employed by the dump proved he couldn't sew straight. Could just display it."
He snorted. "Here's hoping it doesn't get that far. It's her right one, Roy."
"Look at the bright side, we don't get to see Roy make this much of an idiot of himself often. We might very well never see it again. At least nobody's getting hurt."
"Sweetheart, you count too and don't try to tell me you aren't hurting. I know you better than that: You're not as steady as you want me to think. This whole thing is painful enough to watch and I can feel you shaking."
"Gage?"
"What?" John snapped impatiently.
"Do you know who she is?"
"Yeah. And so do you. You need to get your head outta your ass, Roy and stop tearing her apart by inches."
Roy froze, studied her and...then realized she wasn't meeting his eyes now. In fact, she had her face half-buried in Johnny's chest and had gone around to Gage's other side, clearly hiding from him...and Gage was letting her hide. But the only person who he'd allow to do that, if something unthinkable happened and she needed to hide from him was...
"Oh shit."
"Finally got it, did you?"
Roy ignored John's caustic inquiry. "Jane, I'm sorry. Are you okay?"
"How okay do you think you'd feel if she forgot what you look like?" Gage snapped. "You've only known her since she was six and it's only been a couple of years since we saw her."
"I know." There was pain in his voice and he was suddenly hoarse, but he was already moving, reaching for her with hands and eyes that knew her now. She hesitated a moment as her terrified eyes sought his, then almost fell into his arms when the sure knowledge of who she was finally looked back at her from his sad eyes...letting the tears she'd been holding back out. She'd never looked at him like that before and it hit Roy where he lived.
The game warden, Ernest Tailor, winced once he realized what was going on. Roy was in rather deep shit. Hell, he knew who she was, now, too. She'd tasted Ghat's food once, tossed it onto a compost heap and made a new dinner for everyone herself, from scratch. He decided to leave the trio to it, and got her rigs in, instead. It would give them some space. He also noted some really nice tricks she had out that were both legal and ingenious...and took notes. He'd never thought of using catfish 'chicken' blood-bait for grouper...but she'd caught rather a lot of them with it...along with a couple of small sharks...probably why she had both heavy-duty testline and a huge rod in her rig, plus a shark sticker to go along with the one for grouper on her license...so she could keep the ones she caught.
Roy had by now gone around to the other side of her to reach for her and had wedged in tightly against her, she'd gone from hidden trembling that John had only known about because she was touching him, to shaking that was clearly visible now...and not in a good way.
"Baby girl..."
"Forgot me. Knew you would."
"Oh, hell no. Not happening." He bit out, echoing Johnny. "Absolutely not, I couldn't." It was hard to anchor her shaking form, she was trying to hold most of it in, he knew. She was shaking so hard her teeth were chattering.
"I needed you to love me back." The words were whispered in a shattered tone and the lost expression that matched it nearly killed him then and there.
"I do, Babygirl, I do. Never stopped, not ever." He hated having hurt her like that. There were very few things she couldn't just pass off as unimportant, when coming from him or Johnny, but this...this was definitely one of them. She apparently still had very little self-esteem and what she had was still directly tied to their approval. As long as they both still welcomed her, all was right with her world, but tonight...he couldn't have hurt her more if he'd been trying to. He and John were all she had, after all. She was trying not to scream with Ernest there, he knew the signs of it, but he'd never hurt her that badly before. He'd never hurt anyone that badly, but particularly someone he damned well knew loved him as much as she did. Loved him and needed him...what the fuck had he just done?
He did the only thing he could do and pulled her to him, got her onto his lap, her uninjured side snugged in tight. "I'm so sorry." He told her once he got her tucked under his chin. "Come on up here, come on. That's it, let it go, let out, don't hold that in honey, my poor baby." He coaxed her in close, keeping the girl's right leg free of him and simply started rocking her. She would not willingly let go of it with Ernest there, he knew. Sometimes very strange things happened when she lost control...and he would be watching her closely for a while after this. She'd been known to self-harm, too...and nothing so benign as cutting. He remembered a cliff with a five hundred foot drop he and John had barely talked her away from once, suddenly, and shuddered himself.
She'd been willing to mash the painful looking thing against John's hip just to hide from eyes that looked at her without seeing her. He finally understood the open horror he'd seen in her expression and knew why she'd backed away, a little while ago. All three could see her knee was quite was swollen and red...but she was relaxed now. She'd been correct, Roy had caught on and then he'd made it right. And as usual, she gave no further sign of discomfort. He felt as humbled as he had many times before, by how simple her world view was. If he and John were there, pain was not. It couldn't be there because they would not allow it to touch her.
"Nice save, Roy. Make her stay there while I tend to that."
"Is this her's? There's some discharge papers from some hospital in Arizona with it...think she said something about Tucson, didn't she?"
John looked up and saw a soft cast, one of the Velcro jobs that strapped on. "Yeah I think it is, that's pretty new and it's one of the ones with a leather bottom and a foot rest at the heel: I bet she just took it off to allow her skin to breathe for a while. Gimmie a second to brush the sand off her skin and I'll get that back on her. Wait, hand me the paperwork."
Roy relaxed a moment later, adjusted his grip on the young woman whose head lolled against his shoulder now...she let out a low snore and sighed in relief. "She's out." He told the other two, then kissed her hair. Gonna have to watch her closely for a while and keep her away from things like sheer drops."
Gage's face lost every ounce of color for a moment. "Yeah, there's that. Let's not do that again." John worked quietly for a little while after folding and pocketing the paperwork to read later. "She gonna be touchy for a while after we get her home. Won't let it out at the station...just like she wouldn't let it out in front of Ernest, here...such an utter loss of control like this is something she considers something only to be done in private because, well...stuff; but I pity Kelly." He finally answered. "Soft cast and walker, yeah, time for her to come home where we can keep our eyes on that thing." He sighed, speaking of the leg. "I want Joe to look at it anyway, though. That hospital is the one that's been all over the news."
"I know she will."
"You'll fix it. As she said, we'll get past it. We always do. Though for a bit there, I thought I would actually have to open the drug box."
"I get the stokes we brought, that'll be easiest." Ernest offered.
"Nah, no need. At this point, letting go of her won't wake her up, but it will send her into nightmares...that's not good when she won't wake." John told him. "Right now, one or both of us need to stay in physical contact. Actually, at this point, it's gotta be Roy."
"She's got an odd psycho-semantic quirk or two. She's not feeling it now. Her injury stopped hurting the second John touched her, that was all it took. If I hadn't screwed up and hurt her, she wouldn't have needed the touch, our presence alone had already done it."
"She didn't feel it until she realized Roy didn't recognize her." Gage agreed. "Think about it, she gave no sign of any discomfort at all, did she? She was happy, content and only wanted to feed us. Yes, the knee was huge, but, it wasn't getting any worse, she avoided using it...mind you that was to avoid a scolding, but without any sign of pain, all three of us put that on a back burner and settled in for dinner."
"Watch this, easiest thing in the world." Roy shook his head, allowing John to take her weight while he got up, then set her on his hip like a child and headed for the boat. "She won't even wake up unless we hit rough water. However, she's way underweight...she hasn't been this light since before she hit doubled-digits." He called over his shoulder.
"So, since the trail was out and she knew she was stuck on the beach, she just wanted a ride?"
"Yep. And she hates the choppers. Has no head at all for uncontrolled heights and she panics. We have to stokes her for a flight so we can tie her down, it's bad. We don't like it when anyone's heart rate is that high, but when the sole cause is a well-known, documented fear...that's preventable, entirely. If Hugh's flying, we need to sedate her as well. We try not to fly her, at all, if we don't have to. Let's get this tent shaken out and back in it's bag, shall we? That's the other reason Roy took her, the first one being he won't be willing to let her loose after tearing her up like that, but he also couldn't repack a tent into it's original bag to save his city-boy ass." John just grinned at him. "Pretty sure she'd prefer it done correctly, given I'm the one who taught her to start with."
"Uncontrolled?"
"Ask her to introduce you to some of her larger feathered friends sometime. You're a game warden, probably should know about her critters anyway."
There was something about Gage's smile that made Ernest nervous.
"I think she may have already been here fishing before the grass-fire came this direction," John told DeSoto after they packed her stuff up and were back in the boat, headed in. "The beach-grass was pretty flattened, like she'd been here a good while, a few days maybe. I think she came down the cove trail, but the fire dried it out so much it was unusable to come back up with, even if she were dumb enough to try it after it collapsed, which she's not."
"It's a nice fishing spot, I'll give her that." Tailor agreed. "I let several good rock grouper go, but I did put two smallish ones in her smaller cooler, plus two sharks and two larger grouper on ice in the big one, for her to take home. I killed, scaled the grouper, skinned the sharks and cleaned those four, for her. That'll give her three under her daily limit. She's got a solar-powered aerator in that small one, too. The one we had for supper was huge...the filets are in her ice chest, already in baggies."
"She hasn't budged and she's snoring. Drugs?" Morton asked.
"Who, Jane? Of all people? Hell no, she's had a very unpleasant, emotionally painful shock to her system this afternoon is all. Roy finally got her settled and she went to sleep on us again. Better not let her hear you suggesting something like that, considers it a gross insult to her intelligence and rather ticks her off: Remember the last time? Want another slap, it's been a while since the last one. I think she was about ten-years-old, back then, so she might hit a good bit harder now."
"I'd rather just watch my mouth, actually, Johnny. She didn't slap me, she gave me the back of her hand across my jaw so hard that I landed fifteen feet down the hall on my ass. While yelling, at the top of her lungs, about how she'd never, ever, ever disappoint you and DeSoto by doing something so stupid." Morton snorted. "No thanks. It was embarrassing as well as painful to be schooled by a child knocking me on my backside.. I've learned a lot of things from our youngest patients, since then, mind you, but that's the one that made me start to listen to them. I don't feel like landing on the other end of the hall, thanks."
"So, why did you bring her by?" Joe asked, frowning at her strapped up leg.
"Want her right knee checked by you, before we take her back to the station. You are still her doctor, Joe." John handed over the out of state paperwork on that damned knee. "Want to make sure those people knew what was going on and she wasn't just giving them enough of the right noises to be turned loose." He said as Roy removed the support. "Besides, she went to that hospital in Tucson that's been in the news lately."
"That's not good. We're one of the other hospitals who have gone on record complaining about them."
Mike Morton snorted and got busy. "She has done that to me a few times, back when I was new and pushy. Does not like interns for exactly that reason, our Jane." He chuckled, then scowled at the knee. "Well, that certainly doesn't look good."
"Well, the paperwork says she's had it three weeks, but it looks fresher...plus, she's using a walker."
"Yeah, it does." Joe mused. "Either she's not wearing the brace enough, she's on it too much or the wrong issue is being treated. Unfortunately, with the ER she went to, that's more likely than her ignoring it. Considering whose under discussion, that's saying quite a bit."
"Which is why we're here, something about the name of that place...they were in the news a couple of weeks back." Roy nodded. "We'd like to know if its a 'you ain't my Doctor so I don't need to listen to you, cuz you can't tell on me to John or Roy' thing, or a diagnosis problem we're dealing with."
"Can't put a stop to what we don't know about." John sighed. "Either way, this is us, finding out and putting a stop to it."
As it turned out, it was a treatment problem, specifically, a bad diagnosis: Joe ordered a fiberglass cast, got her a better, sturdier walker, then added a wheelchair for her and between himself and Morton, got a correct diagnosis going...with a matching treatment.
"Sprain my ass." Mike told his paramedics in disgust. "Try a badly torqued and overly stretched tendon, one of her hamstrings, actually...and the bastards told her in the discharge notes that it was fine to walk on. Joe's reported that hospital's treating ER to their State, the AMA and the National Licensing Board, because it's not the first time we've had to sort one of their foul ups...and we've had enough of it. She was actually behaving herself by following directions for a change. Well, other than your's I mean. She never disobeys one of you two."
"For all the good it did. I got the higher grade, heavier walker because she's going to have to put most of her weight on it when she uses it...and she's a well-established klutz on crutches." Joe was annoyed. "That will support her correctly." He said of the already signature littered cast. "But the bad diagnosis from those idiots is going to make it harder to make her mind me going forward...and it will certainly take a lot longer for her to heal from this. But, as you reminded me, she's my patient and has been for years." He paused, then added, "And I do not appreciate chicken-brained, ham-handed, poorly trained, physician-wanna-bes messing up my patients."
"She never minds you, Joe. She minds us when we tell her what your orders are. True, she'll not be happy about being in that for as long a while as she's going to be, but she won't give us any problems." John sighed, as he and Roy got her back into their squad and took her home to the station she'd been raised in.
Roy mused, "Well, we'll just have find something to keep her occupied. Could just sic her on Kelly."
"Yeah, true, but I'm glad you checked with me." Early told him soberly, having followed them out.
The two men forgot it had been four years since she'd lived in-station, acting like she'd never left. Roy had brought a wheel chair with them, had strapped it to the top of the squad which he got down while Johnny woke her up. By this time, Hank had come out and noticed John calling her by name and his eyebrow met his hairline, especially when the cast came out the squad's passenger-side door.
"Gage?"
"What?
"Who...?"
"Jane's home."
"The beach lady that waved at us?"
"Not quite waving; she was flapping her brace at me and Roy, to make sure we knew she had an issue. She was down there already, before the fire spread that direction. She'd been there for several days, actually."
"Fishing?"
"Yes, she was. We had a lovely fried fish and vegetable dinner on the beach. She made a nice driftwood sign for the chopper pilots to let her be, asked for us and Ernest Tailor, a sea launch and had supper ready when we got there."
"Of course, she cooked. She always cooks if she has time and can."
"Oh, yes. She did. Didn't get to finish, though, something came up." Johnny grinned at the disgruntled older man. "Beats anything Kelly might have come up with." Hank stepped aside as Roy got her wheelchair in place, steadying one side himself.
"If you didn't have time to finish, then there are some sea birds who are going to get a nice snack tomorrow." Hank Stanley grumbled.
"Now, the other hospital, according to Joe, was full of it and were treating the wrong thing..." Roy started as soon as she was awake and paying attention. "Since that only aggravated the original issue, you're stuck with that for three or four months." He told her, smiling with sympathy at her expression.
"Walker use is for the kitchen, in and out of bed, the restroom or coming in or out from showering, only. You're back to in-station when we are." John informed her, wagging his right index finger at her. "You're going to be in the chair mostly, though: If you're not on a couch or in bed."
"But, Johnny..."
"You'll get ton of snuggles that way, though." Roy hurriedly put in.
"True." John nodded, ignoring his captain's grin at them both.
"Now, Roy will get you settled, while I go kill and clean the rest of your fish, and filet them out. Ernest said he kept two small rock grouper for you in the aerator, plus he cleaned and dealt with two larger ones and two sharks, so you're still under your limit...we could feel the back of the squad sagging, too, so he wasn't kidding. The aerator to keep the little one alive and fresh was a good idea. He did say he counted two small sharks of an edible size and two bigger grouper for today's catch, plus the one you cooked, those are in the larger cooler."
"Don't kill'em, Johnny. That's not what the aerator is for. I bought a place close to your's and put in a huge, tropical saltwater tank, I had mature corals put in, cleaner-fish, all sorts of clams and stuff, too. I wanted a couple of the little ones for my tank. I've got the filets from the rest of the one I cooked on the beach in the ice-chest. It was huge! But I want the live ones to stay alive, they're intended as pets, okay?"
"Okay, we can do that, then, wondered why it was built like that."
"Grouper filets?" Hank repeated sadly. "Oh man. You two get all the luck. Kelly dried out the mac and cheese."
"Well, if you'll call in unavailable for ninety minutes, I'll make a phone call and dinner will be here in fifteen minutes."
"We can do that." Hank grouched. "Who're you going to call?"
"You'll see. It's already arranged, just need to tell them to bring it. I just didn't know which day I'd need them."
"What is?"
"You'll see."
"Golden Corral...I didn't know they catered...and the cook they sent even finished the rest of your filets and all four of the fresh caught fish for us. Got a surf and turf dinner, tonight." Marco loved shark-meat, actually, when it was done correctly, which this was.
"Now you know. I've also arranged them to cater 51's tent, lunch and supper at the picnic this year. Already paid for in lieu of entry fees, they're bringing the whole buffet, the salad bar, the dessert bar, ice cream and tons of steaks."
"Paid for? Well, no sense wasting money, we accept of course." Stanley's eyes were closed in bliss as he chewed a seriously good bite of steak.
"Yeah, for the next ten years running."
Chet paused in spooning sweet peas onto his plate to look at her in horror. "You're going to cream me again."
"Oh yeah. Best have someone winning that thing who knows what they're doing, right? My main run entries are already in, previewed, approved and entered; anything else is going to be extras...via streaming from the recording cameras. And I actually paid Chef Charlie to do the desserts, all the fruit displays and things like carving watermelons and stuff. So, B shift is covered just from that, plus I got the Engine crew from C shift to help with the new float...and their working with a float-company that does Macy's floats and have actually got blueprints for it, so they're covered in this year's entry, too."
"Crap."
"We'll have the trophy back, that's for sure." Mike grinned heartlessly at Kelly. "I'm guessing all of Chet's bad luck this year was orchestrated. She never makes fewer than thirty main run entries."
"Eat up, Kelly. When I was dozing while Roy was carrying me out, I heard him tell Johnny they were going to sic me on you anyway...which means, that this time, I've got permission." She chirped at him cheerfully. "I have plans for you this year...and you'll need your strength, for attempting to dodge, mostly. Your failed attempts at dodging are always so much fun to watch! I get really, really high points for those because you know you're being hunted. Probably just as well I'm not a real predator, though. You've got no nerves to speak of. But, it's a good cause, and all that, huge fundraiser, when its done right...which I do, don't I? My copies always have to go into over production to meet demand. Plus, I got lots of stuff I can use in my stuff...most of it bought with you in mind. BUT," She grinned at their captain this time. Ghat's bringing something over he helped me train, just for the station...all shifts though. The nature of the 'thing' is such that they're only really useful if everyone has access to them."
Everyone was grinning openly at the groaning Kelly, but there were a few well-hidden smirks at Hank, too, though.
Gage sniggered at Chet, but didn't say anything as he took another big bite of expertly turned out ribeye steak.
"So, this beats overdone mac and cheese, right papua?" She asked Hank, who was just finishing off his potato salad, his steak being long gone by then. She reached over with a serving spoon...a huge one, and dumped a bunch of jumbo shrimp on his plate and shoved the varied offerings on several smallish platters which were on the large Lazy Susan, closer to him.
"Oh yeah. Steak and Seafood Night? Beats it by miles." The older man agreed, reaching for what he thought were fat baked, baby carrots but turned out to be oven baked and then mashed, rolled and lightly, finely breaded, fried sweet potato fingers...he immediately adored them. "Oh, wow, these are really good."
Stoker was finishing off his heaped main plate with something that had turned out to be a mix of beer-battered, deep fried broccoli heads, mushrooms and brussel sprouts. Then Marco brought the deep-pan peach cobbler from the oven where it had remained warm while John got up to fetch the ice cream.
Twenty-minutes after dessert was over, Stanley placed the station back on active status...and while the full-bellied Chester B. lounged around in the Day-room, Jane in her chair loaded his helmet with a small amount of diluted hair bleach.
"Kelly, what happened to your hair? It seems to have developed white spots and splotches...you look like a Holstein cow...how did you manage to get nailed already?" His captain inquired after an engine run a few hours later.
"I don't want to discuss it."
"Hey, Chet...remember those splotches?" Marc asked.
"Yeah?"
"You don't look like a cow anymore."
"Well, that's good."
"Now you look like an Easter egg, because they've turned pink, orange, blue and green, spots are still white, but they're frizzy and I think they're also glowing a little. Although, I wonder what she used to get that effect?
"AAARRRGGGHHH!"
"Gotta admit, I'm really glad she likes me more than she does you. Of course, I don't pick on someone she loves,
either."
"Four?"
"What? The station is between dogs, right?"
"There's four of them!" Hank protested.
"They're trained! Search dogs and a good breed for it. These are scent-hounds! Blue-ticks! Can you really afford to turn away something that will help find people faster?" She handed him their paperwork and he suspected that moisture in her eyes was real this time. "I was just tryin' to help."
He gave her a put-upon look and took the leashes. "Oh come on, don't do that. Don't cry..."
"They work better in pairs or in a pack...and Marco already built the kennels...plus Mike agreed the engine's pair can ride on the hoses on runs they're likely to be needed. And Cantankerous installed a pair of dog-boxes on the back of the squad for our's a bit ago. Roy hasn't seen it yet, John has, he's been laughing for a half-hour."
"Alright." He sat down and let the four, eighteen-month-old hounds crowd in close. "Alright, you're right, of course, trail-hounds will make it easier. That kennel breeds and trains some of the best search dogs in the country, too. Thank you."
He was relieved she only sniffled a little.
"What's going on with Kelly's mustache?" John asked Mike softly, pretty sure she'd been cheating with those odd powers of her's.
"Dunno, but the tips to seem to be moving on their own." Mike answered
"Got bright little blue lights in the ends, too." Hank grinned
"He looks like he has an alien woolly worm on his upper lip: Wonder how she pulled that off?" Marco whispered.
BBBBBBBBBUUUUUUUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAEEEEEEEEEIIIIIIIIIIIIII!
"Kelly?" Came five immediately inquiries...and a peal of delighted laughter from the girl..
"She put a giant joybuzzer inside the seat of my turnout pants!" He said, yanking it out and holding the thing up, all while panting in outrage.
"Kelly, didn't you say forgot to bring spare boxers?" Mike asked, grinning.
"I did." He answered, face flaming. "She got direct contact! ON BOTH SIDES!"
"Got the reaction in high def on DVD, from the camera feed I've got streaming, goes straight to the entry committee! No interception possible, Kelly! And Chet got tagged really good that time, too. Got a good close up of his expression which was the BEST. Shift's over in thirty minutes and now, I've got a couple of days to come up with new ideas."
"Sounds like her return to this fund-raiser is going to go over very well indeed." His captain chortled. "Copies of her entries always sell really, really well."
"Papa, I want the trophy back on the shelf in the day room...with my name engraved on its list of WINNERS again!" She piped up.
"You poor bastard, her score this year's going to be massive!" Roy chuckled.
The trio of battalion chiefs sorting through the final extra entries for the Annual Practical Joke Awards were laughing so hard they were in tears.
"Wonder what he did to tick her off? A joy buzzer of that size? There?" Wheezed one man. "His face!"
"Who?"
"Kelly!"
"Not a thing, he's just her favorite target: He's always been her favorite target." Fire Marshall told them. "She'll have nailed everyone, except DeSoto and Gage, at least once, more likely couple of times, but those are only mildly embarrassing. Those are simply opportunities presented to her on a plate. Once in a while she'll do something to stick Hank with an ongoing situation...a permanently ongoing situation, like those new hounds as station dogs or something, but that's all. And, like the hounds, it'll make their job a little easier when someone needs finding."
"She's right about the hounds, though."
"True, not much other than a bloodhound can match a Blue-tick for tracking someone."
"However, she goes after Chet like a hungry coyote goes after a fat, crippled domesticated bunny...he can't outrun her because he's at work and she won't leave him with anywhere to hide. Glad she's back home, though. Her entries are always wonderful. She won this thing for eleven years in a row, when she was younger. It's a big fund-raiser and when people find out she's back home..."
They got her in the front door of their house after dropping the new fish in the colorful, artificial reef of the salt tank at her's and leaving food in there for them and the rest of the fish...and while John brought her stuff in, Roy got her to Gage's bedroom. He'd started for the couch, but she'd insisted. Roy didn't argue, he knew what she wanted. Once he helped her get changed, he settled her in the center of their big bed. He took her right side, leaving the left for John.
She'd held off the private stuff until now, but he knew she'd been so vicious with the jokes on Chet because she'd needed the outlet...and couldn't really let go at the station. He could feel her starting now as her body went from shivers to shaking in a few moments...and reeled her in. He got her head settled onto his chest and just held on...four feet above the covers.
He knew she wouldn't say anything about the beach incident, he'd apologized and now there was just her beating herself up to deal with. She'd blame herself for doubting him, he knew that without bothering to ask. That was how her mind worked, anything that went wrong with the three of them, to her, was her fault...because she was weird.
For the millionth time he mentally cursed her biological parents.
It took him two hours to calm her down enough to get her back down on the bed, before John's presence a few feet from her could help. He could feel it when she finally clicked over and so did Gage, who touched her shoulder.
"My turn." He coaxed. That was easiest.
She rolled over and her head came to rest in the hollow of his shoulder, felt the long arms draw her in tight and sighed, grabbed onto him tightly and then just as she felt Roy's chest against her back...she went to sleep.
TBC