Spoilers: Major spoilers for the events in the season five episode, "The Great Crash Diet."

Disclaimer: I don't own Emergency, but I do have an active imagination. :)

A/N: "The Great Crash Diet" has always been one of my favorite episodes, and I had always hoped to write a fic for it. So, I was quite happy when this particular plot bunny hopped along. :)

As always, I also thank my Lord Jesus Christ for his incredible mercy and grace and his many blessings. I would be utterly lost without him.

Perspectives

Emily Stanley was having a bad day.

Her car hadn't started that morning, for one thing, and Hank always liked to leave for his shift early, so he'd been out to the door a little after 7:00, taking the truck with him. Of course, she hadn't known there was anything wrong with the station wagon until she'd been ready to drive the girls to school at 7:30.

Emily sighed.

She'd thought about calling him, but he dealt with so much in his line of work already, and she'd always hated to bother him at the station for anything less than a real emergency. Thankfully, their neighbor Sandy had offered to drive the girls to school in her place. Sandy's son, Aaron, had just started high school this year, so she wouldn't have to go very far out of her way, and she said she'd be able to pick them up after school too, much to Emily's relief. Allison had a student council meeting and Elizabeth had cheerleading practice, but Aaron had gone out for football, so the timing worked out fine.

That meant the girls were taken care of, at least, but Emily still had errands she needed to run in the meantime, and without the station wagon, she didn't have many options. Getting the car worked on would have to wait until Hank got home after his shift, since she'd rather have him look at it first before going to all the trouble and expense of having it towed to a garage. (His captain's salary certainly went farther than the salary he'd earned as a lineman when they were first married, but Emily had learned to be frugal. Besides, she'd worked as a bookkeeper before she'd married, and if she knew one thing, it was budgeting.) There was the bus line, for all the good that would do – it ran mostly in the city proper, and she would need a ride just to get there. She supposed she could call a taxi, but that was another expense she wanted to avoid if she could.

She hated the idea of bothering another one of the neighbors, but there didn't seem to be much choice, so she'd swallowed her pride and called around, hoping that someone who was already planning to head downtown would be willing to carpool. Fortunately, Margaret, who lived a little ways down the block, said she needed to run some errands herself, and she promised to stop by to pick Emily up around 10:00. Emily insisted on giving her some gas money, with prices being what they were.

She'd spent the next couple hours trying to figure out where she needed to head first, and what she could reach on foot from there so that she could save Margaret from acting too much like a chauffeur. (Margaret might not mind, but Emily did, and she didn't want to impose when the other woman was already doing her such a big favor.)

The annual fireman's ball was coming up in a couple weeks, and she needed to take her dress and Hank's suit to the dry cleaners. Then there was the bank where she needed to deposit Hank's last paycheck. (He usually did that on one of his days off, but he just hadn't had the chance this time, so Emily had offered to do it for him.) The high school had a bake sale in a few days, too, trying to raise enough money to renovate the old gymnasium, and Emily had volunteered to make cookies, so she needed to buy the ingredients for that, and then there was her usual shopping list to think about. She had a couple letters she needed to mail as well, though she supposed that could wait if it absolutely had to.

In the end, she wound up with a plan she was fairly happy with (though it did look like mailing those letters would have to wait), and she was ready to go when Margaret drove up to the house.

The day being what it was, Emily really shouldn't have been surprised when, later that afternoon, she and Margaret walked out of the grocery store to find a cart-shaped dent in the car's passenger door. Whoever had done it hadn't even bothered to leave a note, and Emily felt terrible. She was the one who'd suggested shopping at Clark's Grocery in the first place, though Margaret insisted up and down that it wasn't her fault.

Needless to say, Emily was incredibly frustrated and more than a little distracted by the time she got home.

She wanted nothing more than to curl up in a corner somewhere with a good book and forget her troubles for a little while before the girls got home from school, but she still had those cookies she needed for the bake sale, and she wasn't sure she'd have time to make them in the next few days if she didn't do it now.

Of course, she nearly burned her first batch.

(It took more self-restraint than she wanted to admit to keep from throwing the baking sheet across the room.)

Emily was standing at the counter by the oven, trying to decide if the cookies could still convincingly pass as "golden brown," when the phone on the kitchen wall rang.

Not paying much attention, she picked it up and held the receiver up to her ear with her right shoulder as she started using a spatula to move the cookies over to a cooling rack.

"Hello?"

"Emily, it's Mike."

Everything stopped.

There was only one reason Mike Stoker would be calling her now, during a shift, and Emily felt cold fingers of fear wrap around her heart.

She dropped the spatula on the counter and clutched at the phone with both hands. "What happened?"

Her voice was hoarse, the demand less steady than she would have liked for it to be, but she wanted an answer just the same. A real answer. Her long years as a firefighter's wife had taught her that she wanted the cold, hard facts. It was better to know the truth than to wonder and let her imagination run away with her.

Thankfully, the quiet, perceptive man who was such a good friend to her husband – and who'd become a good friend to her, too – knew her well enough to realize that she wasn't interested in platitudes.

"The doctor said he's gonna be fine," Mike began, "but...we were working at the scene of a traffic accident. A driver hit a power pole. The accident must have done even more damage than we realized because some wires went down. Hank was electrocuted."

Electrocuted.

Emily swallowed hard.

When the paramedic program had begun, Hank had been won over as soon as he'd seen it in action, and he'd talked long and loud about the good it was doing. His enthusiasm had been contagious, and when she'd seen an advertising for a first aid course that the Red Cross was offering, she'd jumped at the chance, wanting to be able to help others if she was ever in the position to do it. She'd even checked out a couple basic medical books afterwards – and one or two about firefighting – trying to understand more about what her husband did...what drove him and what he faced.

She almost regretted it now because it meant that her mind was already conjuring up everything she knew about electrocution and its effects on the body. She tried to cling to the assurance Mike had given her instead.

"You said...he's going to be okay?"

"That's what Dr. Early told John and Roy," Mike promised.

Her throat was dry, and she swallowed again. "Is he burned?"

"No, he's not."

Emily released a breath. "And his heart? Is it...?"

"They don't think there will be any permanent damage."

Thank you, God.

Emily closed her eyes for a minute, trying to steady her nerves. Hank had been hurt before, but all of those had been fairly minor injuries in comparison: a mild concussion, a sprained knee, a broken ankle, cuts and bruises. This time... even with the doctor's good report, the knowledge that he'd been electrocuted still left her stomach in knots.

She opened her eyes and tried to concentrate on practical concerns. Practical she could do. "Did they say how long they think he'll need to stay in the hospital?"

"Not too long. A day, maybe two. Roy talked to Joanne, and she said she could give you a ride to Rampart if you need one."

For a brief moment, Emily wondered how on earth they might know about her car trouble, and then she realized they were probably making the offer in case she didn't feel up to driving there herself. (Goodness knew, Joanne DeSoto certainly understood what it was like when the man you loved got hurt on the job.)

"I'd appreciate that. I'll give Joanne a call as soon as I can."

She'd have to get the girls early, too – she knew they would want to be with their father right now, to see for themselves that he really would be okay. That meant she'd have to call Sandy as well, let her know that she wouldn't need to pick the girls up after all.

"I'll let you go so you can do what you need to," Mike said, probably guessing where her thoughts were headed. There was a pause. "Will you be alright?"

Mike was so reserved that others might not have heard the genuine concern in his voice, but Emily did, and it made her smile faintly.

"I will be. Thank you, Mike."

"You're welcome. Let us know if you need anything."

"I will," she promised and then hung up the phone.

She turned off the oven and put the rest of the dough in the refrigerator, but she left the cookies where they were – the baking sheet was still hot enough yet that they would probably be burned by the time she got back to them, but she could make more later. It just didn't matter. Not right now.

She called Joanne, who told her that Chris and Jennifer were with Roy's mother for the rest of the day, so she was happy to help as long as she was needed. She easily agreed to stop at the high school to get the girls before they drove to Rampart. Emily called Sandy next, letting her know what happened, and her neighbor said she was just glad that Hank would be okay. She'd even offered to keep giving the girls a ride to school every day until the station wagon was repaired. Emily took her up on that gratefully.

After talking to Sandy, Emily hurried into the bathroom to check her reflection in the mirror. (There was something about looking put together that had a way of making her feel a little more put together too, and she needed all the help she could get right now. Her daughters would take their cues from her, she knew, and if she seemed like she was calm and composed, that would offer them a sort of reassurance of its own.) She was glad she'd taken the time to do it, too, because she looked just as frazzled as she'd imagined she would after the long day...and that phone call.

She had a smudge of flour on her cheek, of all things, and her hair was a mess – she'd tossed it back in a ponytail when she'd started on those cookies, and a few of the shorter pieces around her face were sticking up now. Her blue eyes were a bit bloodshot too, but there wasn't a whole lot she could do about that. Drawing a deep breath, she splashed some water on her face to clean off the flour, then took down her hair and ran a brush through the light brown locks until her bangs looked less wild and the rest was smooth and sitting a couple inches below her shoulders. (Stands of gray had started to make an appearance around her temples a year or so ago – after this little adventure, she would probably have a few more.) She touched up her makeup, then checked over the blue blouse and matching slacks she wore in case there were any other streaks of flour she'd missed.

She finished just in time – a glance out the front window showed Joanne's green sedan pulling up in front of the house. Emily grabbed her keys and her purse and hurried out the door, locking it behind her.

She went straight to the front office when they reached the high school. Joanne had offered to go with her, but Emily had no doubt that the moment Allison and Elizabeth saw her, they would know something had happened to Hank, and she worried they'd think it was even worse news if she wasn't alone.

The school day was over already, but there were a few students in the hallways, many of them, like the girls, probably either headed to a school club or leaving one. Emily had thought about calling ahead, but she hadn't been sure if anyone would still be in the office. Thankfully, the secretaries were still at the desk, and after Emily explained the situation, one of them quickly left to bring the girls to her. The intercom might have been even faster, but there was a chance they might not hear it now, especially Elizabeth, who was probably either outside or in the gym for cheerleading practice.

She'd been right about how the girls would react. When they appeared at the end of the hall a short time later, walking behind the secretary, she could see the worry on their faces. They were clearly hoping for the best but braced for the worst...a fireman's daughters every bit as much as she was a fireman's wife.

Emily summoned up the best smile for them that she could and watched them as they drew closer.

They were both slim, long-limbed, and tall for their ages – not unexpected, Emily supposed, since she was fairly tall herself, and Hank's 6'3" fame was usually one of the first things people noticed about him. But it was Elizabeth, her youngest by two years, who was already a couple inches taller than her older sister – much to Allison's frustration, though she'd never admit it.

Elizabeth was chewing on her lower lip nervously, her green eyes serious, her gym bag clutched in one hand; she was still wearing the t-shirt and shorts she must have changed into for cheerleading practice, and her long brown hair – the darker shade she'd inherited from Hank – was held in loose ponytail that trailed down her back.

(Her hair color wasn't the only thing she'd inherited from Hank, Emily thought, with a faint pang of amusement; the girls' conversation at dinner just a couple nights before certainly proved that:

"Do you still want to borrow my old American History notes tonight?" Allison asked.

"Yeah," Elizabeth answered, sounding distracted as she rushed to finish her dinner, "but later. I need to run through my cheer routine a few more times before it gets dark."

"Why? You've had that routine down cold for weeks."

"Mrs. Mackenzie is heading up practice tomorrow."

"Oh, not this again," Allison complained, rolling her eyes. "She's not out to get you, you know."

"She's always waiting for me to make a mistake!"

"You make mistakes because you're so nervous around her! Don't let her get to you and you'll be fine."

Elizabeth glared at her sister across the dinner table. "That's easy for you to say – you don't know what she's like!")

Right now, Allison herself had the same worry-driven crease between her blue eyes that Emily sometimes saw on her own face, and her light brown hair, which fell just above her shoulders, was a bit messier than she usually let it get, either because it was nearing the end of the day or because she'd hurried to leave the student council meeting she'd just been called from. Always more fashion-conscious than her sister, she was wearing a purple, short-sleeved peasant blouse and bell bottoms jeans, and the strap of her backpack was slung over her right shoulder.

It was Allison who spoke first when the girls reached her at the desk.

"Mom? What happened?" She swallowed hard. "Is Dad...?"

"They doctor says he's going to be okay," Emily assured them quickly. "I haven't gotten to talk to him myself yet, but Mike called." She drew a deep breath. She knew her daughters would want the facts like she had. "They were working at a traffic accident when some wires from a power line fell – your dad was electrocuted."

Both her girls paled visibly.

She reached for them automatically then, hugging Elizabeth first because she was a bit closer, then pulling Allison into her arms as well. They both went willingly, leaning into her, and Emily welcomed it, holding onto them both tightly, some of the ache in her own chest soothed by the warmth of her children.

Emily let herself enjoy it for just a moment more and then forced herself to pull away at last. "He'll have to stay in the hospital for a day or so," she added, "but they don't think any permanent damage was done."

"They're sure?" Elizabeth pressed.

Emily nodded. "Mike said that's what Dr. Early told John and Roy."

A little of the tension eased out of both girls' postures.

Emily tried to smile again. "We should get going. Joanne gave me a ride here, and she'll take us to Rampart. She's waiting outside."

Her daughters didn't need to be told twice, and clearly just as anxious to see their father as she was, they followed her out of the building. Joanne must have been watching for them because she pulled up in front of the sidewalk right as they reached the base of the school's front steps.

Allison and Elizabeth offered Joanne subdued hellos as they climbed into the backseat – they'd each babysat for the DeSotos a couple times in the past – but they fell silent again as Emily took the passenger seat in front. Truthfully, Emily wasn't feeling any more talkative than her daughters were, but thankfully, Joanne filled the silence on her own as she drove, mentioning a few light topics, speaking just enough to give them all a welcome distraction.

A short time later, they were making the all-too-familiar turn into Rampart's parking lot.

The hospital was busy enough that it took a few minutes to find a place to park, but they did at last, one not too far from where Emily knew the squad usually parked when the paramedics brought in a patient. Joanne told the girls that they could leave their things in the car, and together, they made their way to the building's entrance.

Not quite sure where to look for Hank, their first stop was the emergency room, where Nurse McCall immediately summoned Dr. Early. The gray-haired doctor was quick to repeat what he'd told John and Roy – that Hank would need to stay in the hospital for a day, but he should be just fine. Hank, he explained, had been sent to the cardiac care unit where he could be monitored for the time being, but that was largely just a precaution. The doctor was certain that he'd be able to go home soon and that it wouldn't be too long before he'd be able to head back to work.

Even if she'd had that reassurance before, hearing those words for herself did help to calm some of the worry still clawing at Emily's stomach...some, but not all. A few of those fears wouldn't fade until she saw Hank for herself.

One look at her girls told her that they were probably feeling the same way.

Dr. Early seemed to sense that, and he directed them back to Nurse McCall, who called up to CCU so that the staff would know to expect their visit. She also gave them the name of the cardiologist who had taken over Hank's care in case they had any other questions.

Emily thanked her, then ushered the girls over to the elevator.

Joanne parted with them there, since she couldn't join them to see Hank – Nurse McCall had said that CCU had a family only policy and they also limited the number of visitors their patients received. Joanne had understood, saying that she would go to the cafeteria and grab a cup of coffee, and that they should just let her know when they were ready to head home.

Then, one floor higher, a stop at another desk, and a single corridor later – a corridor that seemed to be mostly a blur to Emily – she and the girls finally walked into Hank's room.

Emily ignored all the equipment he was attached to – a precaution, Dr. Early said it was just a precaution – and focused on Hank instead.

He was laying back in a hospital bed, the head of the bed slightly raised so that the blankets pooled a little at his waist. He was pale and dressed in a hospital gown, and the creases around his eyes told her that he was in some pain, but he smiled when he saw who his visitors were, his gaze landing on her first.

"Hey, Em," he said, his voice a little hoarse.

Tears filled her eyes before she could stop them. "Hank."

"Do I look that bad?"

She choked out a surprised laugh. "Yes," she told him immediately. "Yes, you do."

His smile was tired and still a little pained, but it widened at having gotten that reaction from her, and then he turned his attention to the girls, opening his arms in invitation, and the girls went to him with out a word, both hugging him as tightly as they dared. He kissed them both on the top of the head, the way that he used to when they were little. He looked just as reluctant to let go as they were, and ultimately, Allison took one side of the bed, and Elizabeth took the other, and Emily slipped in beside them, standing next to Elizabeth who was still holding her father's hand.

She felt like she could breathe for the first time since she'd gotten that phone call.

Emily wasn't certain how long they all stayed that way, talking and just being together, but she could see Hank's energy waning, and she finally suggested that the girls head down to join Joanne in the cafeteria, knowing they probably hadn't eaten anything since lunch. They agreed, and she gave them some money from her purse; they both hugged their father once more before they headed for the door.

Emily promised she'd join them in a couple minutes and watched them go, then reached for Hank's hand herself, wrapping both of her own hands around his calloused palm, savoring the warm familiarity of his touch.

He gave her fingers a squeeze. "You okay?" he asked.

She smiled at the concern. "I am now. I've had a very bad day, you know, but I think you might just have me beat."

Hank snorted at that, and she bent to kiss him softly. The kiss lingered, but she could feel his weariness, and when she pulled away, his eyes were already starting to close.

"Didn't mean to make your bad day even worse," he murmured, his eyes drifting shut completely.

"You didn't," she answered quietly, squeezing his hand this time.

Hank's breathing slowed as sleep claimed him, and she watched the steady motion of his chest for a long moment.

"You didn't make it worse," she said again, her voice low.

He probably hadn't heard her, but that didn't matter. A lot of things didn't matter – none of her petty worries or problems. Those would all pass. What really mattered was that Hank was here with her – solid, real, and alive – and he was going to be okay.

Looking at it that way, she thought, brushing her thumb over his knuckles, she would call it a good day.

A very good day.

Fin

A/N: Thank you so much for reading, and please let me know what you think!

Take care and God bless!

Ani-maniac494 :)