That Day

Hell's Kitchen

A/N: I meant to post this sooner, but I was filming on set all yesterday. Once again, I want to thank everyone who reviewed this story, you guys are awesome! Here's the next part, I hope you find it equally pleasurable!

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Suddenly Runner-boy's cuffed hands are around my neck, choking me. I don't have time to react to his cold fingers and the metal handcuffs cutting my air off, before his sweaty forehead smashes violently into mine.

What the hell? I think as I tumble to the snowy ground. Shit! He just head-butted me!

My head smacks loudly against the pavement and intense pain shoots through my skull and neck. Ow... God, that hurts!

I can hear Sully and Davis all over the guy, yelling and pushing and shoving, but I don't move to get up. I can't, my head will split wide open, I'm sure. The cold wetness of melted snow seeps through my pants gives me goosebumps, but all I can think is how bad my head is pounding. I reach my hand up to the back of my skull and grimace. Damn, I can already feel a big bump forming.

Sully and Davis are still yelling at that stupid jag-off and I see Davis smack the guy with his nightstick a few times. "That's enough!" Ty says forcefully when the guy keeps struggling.

Sully walks over to me and he's got a worried frown on his face. "You okay, Bosco?" he asks me and offers his hand to me.

"Unghh," I groan in response. My head kills.

I blink a few times and grab Sully's hand. He hauls me up onto my feet a bit too fast and my head throbs viciously. "You okay?" he asks again and I nod my head, trying to ignore the pain.

"Yeah," I croak out, "I'm okay." I pull off my skullcap and rub the back of my head again, trying to diffuse the angry pounding. My hair is cold and wet from the melted snow that soaked through my hat.

"Bosco! Are you okay?" a familiar voice calls anxiously from behind me. Faith. I turn away from Sully to see her jogging up. "What happened?"

"This jag-off here head-butted me. I'm fine," I assure her as convincingly as possible. I'm not fine - my head is killing me. Maybe I have a concussion... I hope not.

"Lemme see," Faith murmurs and pushes my hair away from the large goose-egg on the back of my head. Her touch is soft, but she still manages to make it hurt even worse. "Looks okay, but you have a nice bump back there."

I sigh and rub my face with my hands. "You think!?" I remark sarcastically.

Faith grabs my shoulders and gently turns me around to face her. Her bright blue eyes search my face for who-knows-what and then linger on my forehead. "You have a bit of a cut there, Bos," she remarks.

Disbelievingly, I swipe my forehead with my fingers and hold them in front of me. There's a little blood in my fingertips. Oh. I guess I got that when he smashed his head against mine. Yeah, that would do it...

"I'm fine, " I reiterate again. "Lets just get this moron booked, okay?" I let Davis handle the stupid son-of-a-bitch because I don't think I could book him without inflicting an equal amount of pain to his dumb head. Faith would get pissed at me again and then this sucky day would be even suckier. Don't need that.

Davis nods at me and then chants off the Miranda while he drags the sniveling perp back to the RMP.

**********

"Hey, here's a Band-Aid for that cut. You want it?" Faith asks, holding out the glorified strip of tape.

"What? And wear it on my forehead? Are you crazy?" I scowl at her. Yeah, right. Like I'm going to wear a bandage right across my forehead. No way.

I glance at my reflection in the rearview mirror. The cut isn't bad, just a scratch. The bleeding stopped few minutes ago and now it's just an angry red mark. If you ask me, I think it looks really masculine, kind of sexy. Ladies like a rough and tough guy, you know. "I'm fine... really. Quit treating me like a kid."

"Ok, whatever," Faith shrugs indifferently as I pull our squad back onto Arthur, heading back to the fire. I need to see if we have a witness to identify the jag-off arsonist that we just nailed. He's cuffed and slouching in the back seat, whining something about "the injustice of the free world", I think. I have no idea what his problem is. Such a moron.

We got his name, a Mr. Scott Tenney, but I prefer to think of him as our very own "Idiot-runner-boy". It suits his sniveling, whining, brainless personality, if you ask me. I'm still really pissed at him for trying to take me out and causing me the nice headache I have now.

I'm so filing his dumb ass for assault, he's not gonna get away with trying to strangle me - no way in hell.

As we coast down the street, the burning complex comes into view again, but this time the blaze seems to have died down a little. Now it's just a huge fire instead of a raging inferno.

"Nice little number you did on the place, Tenney," I derisively remark to our passenger as I glare at his reflection in the rearview mirror. He ignores me and stares out the window at the blaze. I swear, I can almost see his eyes light up in delight, the sick bastard.

I pull off to the other side of the road and get out of the car. The smell of smoke is strong and irritating, and for some reason is making my head pound even worse.

I swear, if there weren't so many witnesses around here, I'd yank Tenney out of the car and throw him right into his flaming masterpiece.

I spot DK over by his truck pulling out a coiled-up hose. "Hey! DK!" I yell, as I jog up to him. He turns around, his face a mess of black, streaky soot. "We got your arsonist. You have someone that can ID him?" I ask.

"Uh, yeah," he answers distractedly as he lugs the hose to a spot not four feet from the truck. "I saw him."

"Okay, you want to come down to the station when you finish up here?" I notice him struggling to juggle the hose and the large wrench he has pulled from his toolbox.

Wanting to help, I give him a hand with the hose. Good grief, it's a lot heavier than it looks - must weigh at least a hundred pounds. Good thing I didn't sign up to be a bucket boy...

"Sure, Boscorelli," he replies. We cross the street with the hose in hand and drop it next to a red fire hydrant. "Thanks for the lift."

"Yeah," I say distractedly as I turn to watch the blazing complex.

The heat of the fire is hot enough to be warming me from across the street. My eyes roam the scene, as I suddenly feel uneasy. Something is wrong. There are five or six fire trucks parked every which way, but only a small handful of firefighters are outside. I wonder if the rest of them are inside... My gut instinct tells me to find out.

I spot the firehouse Lieutenant barking orders into his CB and jog over. "Hey, Lieu, you got guys in there?" I ask him, frowning up at the fire.

Lt. Johnson's grim nod makes me feel jumpy. "There's a few civilians unaccounted for and my boy's went in. So far they've only found a dog."

I can tell he's worried. I shift my weight back and forth and stuff my hands into my pockets. "You need help out here?" I offer, knowing full well what his answer will be. 'No, Boscorelli,' he'll say, 'we got it under control.' There isn't really anything I can do.

"No, Boscore-" he starts, but I stop hearing him when every sound turns into a loud, resounding roar and a huge explosion of some sort knocks us to our knees. The heat scorches my back as glass and large pieces of debris rain down around us. Instinctively, I cover my head with my hands - as if they will shield away anything. I feel glass hitting the back of my neck, little shards digging in with a sharp, stinging sensation.

When the roar dies down a second later, I get up quickly and grab Lt. Johnson's hand to help him back onto his feet. I try to look past the panicked, horrified expression plastered across his face because it scares me half to death. He grabs his shoulder radio and yells loudly, frantically to his men, "Calling all members of the 55, report in now!"

The radio sits in his hands, silent for a moment before a mere seven men check in. I feel my stomach drop. Now is the time to panic - and he does, calling again and again into the CB for his missing men. God, there must be at least ten guys still in there!

Faith runs up behind me. "Oh my God, Bos! Are there people in there?" she half-shrieks, looking past me at the inferno. The once almost-controlled blaze has ripped and roared into a conflagration of seething flames. Beside me, the Lieu has started to get beside himself, his hands shaking as they grip the silent radio and he paces back and forth nervously.

Okay, I need to help. What can I do? I whirl around and look for an answer. My gaze flits from the trucks to the hoses to the ambulance that has just pulled up. I could...

Not letting myself finish my thought, I run up to the bus and yank open the driver's side door. "Doc, they got a bunch of guys in there," I inform him as I motion to the blaze. "I'm goin' in with you," I decide. There are guys in there that I know, and I'm not about to sit here and watch them burn alive.

Doc gets out and stops for moment to watch the raging fire, mesmerized by its powerful intensity. "Good, God..." he mumbles in awe.

Carlos trots up to stand behind me and loudly utters one of his less-intelligent phrases, "Whoa, big fire." Thank you, Carlos, for your wonderful insight and uncanny ability to state the obvious. Moron.

Doc shrugs him off and starts grabbing bags of medical supplies from the cab of the bus. I follow him over to the Lieutenant, who is still trying in vain to contact his men, his knuckles white as he grips the CB.

"What do we got, Lieu?" Doc asks as he stares at the fire.

"Uh..." Lieu voice falters as he rakes his hand through his sweat-matted hair. "I got a bunch of my boys still in there. Walsh just radioed in - he and Doherty are trapped in the stairwell under some rubble. Doherty got hit by something and is out cold. They need you up there now, Doc. I don't know how long this building is gonna stand."

"You know what floor?" Doc asks glancing up to the complex. Good question. Looks like there are five floors, but the middle two are the ones that are really flaming.

"Yeah, between second and third." Lieu paces back and forth again, still calling anxiously into the CB.

Great, they're trapped between the burning floors. Of course they would be there - Murphy's Law. What the hell is with today? It's like the worst, suckiest, unluckiest day ever. Will it never end?

I can tell he's worried, as is everyone out here, but he's got to be feeling on the verge of nervous breakdown right about now. I don't know how I would feel if I were in his position - he's responsible for all of his men, and when things like this happen...

"I'm goin' in with Doc, Lieu," I inform him. "You got an extra jacket and tank?"

Lieu sighs deeply, and realizing he has no better options then to send us in, reluctantly agrees. "Okay...You be careful, okay? I don't need to lose you guys too."

**********

Doc and I have done this type of thing a million times - piece of cake, I tell myself as I suit-up.

That's a lie. I've gone into a few fires at most, and none of them were even half as big as this one. My nerves are jumpy with anticipation and my hands are shaking slightly. I hope Faith can't see how uneasy I am. She watches from a few feet away, worried as hell. She hates it when we get sent in, I guess she doesn't think we are qualified or something. I'm not exactly thrilled myself, but we don't really have any other options.

Doc and I pull on the couple of extra jackets that Lieu gave us, but our oxygen masks leave a little to be desired. Unfortunately, they didn't have any real ones lying around, so we get to use the standard masks that the medics carry around. You know, the clear plastic ones that barely cover your mouth and nose. Yeah, and I'm so happy about this. I just hope we don't die of smoke inhalation...

"You ready?" I ask Doc as we walk up to the complex.

"Ready as I'll ever be..." he sighs and hoists medical bag up a bit more onto his shoulder.

The front doorway of the building is dark, filled with smoke, and very foreboding. I cringe slightly with every step. Each movement towards the building rewards us with a louder roar from the inferno, a darker smoke, and a worse feeling in the pit of my stomach. Between the smoke and the nervousness, I feel like I'm going to hurl. I just need to stay focused...

The thick fire jacket I'm wearing is heavy, but I barely notice it as we step into what I assume was once the lobby of the place. The wooden floors creak under our feet as we slink carefully along the walls towards the back left corner. Apparently the stairs are located back there somewhere, but I can hardly see two feet in front of me and I can't tell if they are. The flashlights we are carrying are useless, the beams of light just reflect off of the smoke. Why on earth am I doing this? Am I crazy?

A loud creaking noise overhead only instills the uneasiness I'm feeling. I look up and realize that the ceiling looks like its gonna fall any minute. Again, I ask myself why the hell I volunteered to do this.

I am crazy...

I traipse after Doc as fast as I can manage, but it's so hot in here that I feel like I'm broiling inside this damn jacket. Why the hell would anyone in their right mind want to be a firefighter? I try to remember that it's like ten degrees outside but it's really hard to while I'm burning up in here.

I swear, five more minutes in this hellhole and I'll start to believe in spontaneous combustion.

Doc, ahead of me by a few feet, points to something that looks like doorframe. There's so much debris in here that I can hardly tell. I think part of the ceiling fell in or something because there is a bunch of wood and stuff all over the ground. We slowly make our way up to the doorframe thingy and Doc motions for me to go through first. Super.

I crawl up the pile of junk and peer through the hole. I can see a railing and stairs leading up - I think we found the stairway. Good. Forcing myself to ignore the growing feelings of claustrophobia, I pull myself into the stairwell and stand up. There is a lot more smoke in here then was in the main lobby, or whatever the hell we just were.

Doc pushes his bag up to me and then crawls in himself. "You good?" I ask him, the sound of my voice muffled by the flimsy oxygen mask that I'm holding over my nose and mouth.

He nods and waits for me to continue up the stairs. Oh, lucky me - I get to go first again. I send him my thanks back as a long glare and slowly start up the stairway.

There's a lot of smoke in here and its getting harder and harder to see. Thankfully, it's mostly swirling up around the ceiling, but its still bothering me. My eyes are stinging and watering, and even though I have an oxygen mask on, the smoke is catching in my lungs and mouth. It tastes thick and gross, like I just chugged a bottle of tar or something. Ugh.

We make it to the first landing okay. I'm guessing that we are between the first and second floor now...? Man, it's so damn hot in here... My hands are sweating, my back is sweating, and my neck is sweating... Hell, I think even my feet are sweating. Damn-stupid arsonist.

I turn the corner and start up another flight of steps, except now the smoke is so thick that I can't see the end of them - creepy if you ask me. I feel like I'm walking into a crypt or something, the place is eerily silent save the roaring of the flames from somewhere overhead.

My head is really pounding now, I think that all of the smoke has just made my headache worse, adding to what our friend Tenney did to me earlier. God, I could just kill him right now...

At this point, I realize that I can barely see much at all because of the thick smoke and the fact that my eyes have been pouring tears for the last five minutes. My left foot finds the next step, but it's blocked by something. I stop suddenly and Doc runs right into me, slamming the meds bag into my back. I stumble forward a bit before I catch my balance. He must be having problems seeing too.

"What, Bosco?" Doc asks loudly from right behind me.

"Uh..." I feel around in front of me and realize that half of the stairway is blocked by debris. We must be close to where Walsh and Doherty are trapped. "Looks like there's a bunch of junk all over the stairs. Must be where the ceiling fell in so they gotta be around here somewhere." I look up and shine my flashlight around trying to see anything. Nope. Nothing but lovely black smoke.

"Can we crawl over?" Doc asks, pushing his way up to stand beside me. He leans over the pile a bit to see. "Yeah, we can crawl."

I wonder if Walsh can hear us from here... "Hey! Walsh! Anybody up there?" I holler as loudly as I can.

A few seconds pass before I can hear a muted answer. Sounds like someone yelling "Over here!". Ok, good - we're close.

I start to climb over the rubble, hoping to God that it won't give under my weight. I heard about this one guy once that was crawling over debris like this and ended up creating sort of an avalanche. He died, burned alive while he was trapped in the heap of rubble. My stomach drops when I remember this. Shit, why do I always remember these kinda stories at the worst times?

I can hear Doc behind me, lugging the meds bag up after him. I let a minute or two of slow climbing pass before I call out again, "Walsh? Where are you?"

"Up here!" I hear him shout back, but this time I can tell he's no more then ten feet in front of us. It's weird to hear him so close, because I can't see anything except my gloved hands as they grope around for good handholds.

"We're comin'!" Doc yells, crawling up beside me. I can tell he's encouraged by the fact that at least Walsh is still conscious, though with all of this smoke I don't know how.

Finally, I make out a gray shadow of a figure and stop. "That you, Walsh?" I smile at him, relived that we found them all right. I see him move towards us, his face entirely covered by his mask.

"Yeah," he answers. By the tone of his voice, I can tell he's equally relieved to see us. "Watch out for Jimmy. He's trapped under all this shit."

I follow his eye-line to his partner. Jimmy is lying on his side, a pile of rubble covering his lower half, and his head lulled to the side limply. He looks like he's dead, and I would have sworn he was if I couldn't see the fog of his breath on his clear mask. Kim is gonna to freak when she finds out...

Doc moves in, assessing Jimmy's injuries. He looks him over good and takes his pulse, all the while calling his name over and over, trying to wake him up or at least get a response. Jimmy is out cold, he doesn't even move when Doc opens his eyelids to check for dilation.

Doc gets up and grabs his bag, pulling out his equipment as he directs us to help him, "Okay, Walsh, take his helmet off but leave his mask on. Bosco, see if you can move any of this stuff off him."

I step back a second and size up my job. There are a lot of big pieces of ceiling and a bunch of what looks like concrete block...? I could be wrong. Maybe it's the insulation? Or drywall? I don't take the time to ponder this over and instead get to work. I grab a board and heave it up the stairs and away from us.

I can hear Doc calling into his radio, letting the Lieu and I guess Carlos know what is going on up here, "Ok, we got to Walsh and Doherty. We're gonna get them down and outta here ASAP. Tell Carlos that Jimmy's tachy with a concussion - possible fracture of the Occipital bone. Have a backboard and collar ready."

Tachy... I've heard that before. I think it means that his heart rate is up - way up. Bad stuff. I hurry to uncover him, yanking stuff off as fast as I can manage.

"10-4, Doc," somebody radios back.

Again and again I toss boards, drywall, and whatever the hell else is in here out of the way. After about five long minutes of digging, I can finally tell that I'm making a dent in the pile. I can see Jimmy's legs come into view, the bright yellow stripes of his fire pants. Damn, he's buried in deep.

Walsh, beside me, struggles to get up and help. He's shaking and I can tell he's hurt, but I have no idea how bad. "You okay?" I ask him.

He just nods and starts to dig out his partner. We work feverishly for a few more minutes before everything is cleared off, except one large, heavy beam that is pinning Jimmy's torso down. Me and Walsh push and pull at it but it doesn't budge. "Dammit, that's really stuck," I tell Doc, getting frustrated.

"See if you can lift it enough that I can slide him out," he suggests, grabbing Jimmy by the shoulders, ready to pull him out from underneath. Uh, I don't think he realizes just how heavy the thing is. "Try t-"

A loud explosion interrupts him, and pieces of the ceiling fall on and all around us. We all hit the ground and Doc throws himself over Doherty. I think something upstairs just exploded, because an intensely hot cloud of smoky dust comes barreling down the stairwell, surrounding us. "Now!" Doc yells at me and Walsh, obviously alarmed. "We gotta go now!"

Walsh grasps one end of the beam and motions for me to do the same. "On my count," he says. I bend over and get ready to pull, coughing and choking on the smoky, sooty air. My sorry excuse for a mask isn't doing the greatest job at keeping the ash and smoke out. God, I need to get out of here...

"One...two...three!" Walsh counts.

I yank up as hard as I can, every muscle straining to move the damn beam. It doesn't shift at all. Not a millimeter. Ok, I think to myself as I struggle to pull harder, You got it - just pull...

There! It moved, just a few inches, but I can hear Jimmy suck in a huge breath of air as it comes off of him. The sound of that makes me feel sick. The worst feeling in the world is not being able to breathe.

"Up! Up!" Doc shouts, pulling on Jimmy at the same time. He's moving out inch by inch... Oh, God, com'on! I know I can't hold it much longer; my arms are burning in pain and giving out... Com'on!

Right before I know I'll drop it, I give it one last heave. The beam comes up just enough to slide Jimmy out the rest of the way. "We got it! I got him!" Doc hollers as he pulls Jimmy away to safety.

Walsh and I simultaneously drop the beam. My arms are weak and shaky now, but I ignore the feeling as I turn around and grab Jimmy's legs. God, they are so limp. Another small explosion rattles above us again and makes me jump. Oh, shit...

Now the ceiling is practically raining down on us, covering us with a thick layer of white powder. "Let's get the hell outta here!" I yell at Doc and Walsh, who seem all too happy to oblige.

We all carry Jimmy, feeling our way down the stairway, and trying not to choke to death on the smoke and dust. My chest is on fire, I swear. It feels like I inhaled a pint of hard liquor right into my lungs. My lungs tighten and make me cough over and over as we haul ass down the cluttered steps.

Fresh air - what I would give for some right now...

I can hear Lieu or someone calling over the CB, yelling frantically over and over for us to get out immediately. The tone of his voice and the urgency of his calls sends my heart racing. God, I'm so scared now... My adrenalin is rushing and I feel sick to my stomach. With every call I'm sure the building is just going to collapse right on top of us. Sheer panic forces me to go, to get out.

After what seems like an eternity, we stumble into the lobby and practically run towards the exit, all the while hearing the rattling, creaking, and roars from the inferno raging above us grow louder and louder.

Another small explosion rips through the building and my heart jump into my throat.It's gonna fall! Oh, God, it's gonna fall! my mind screams. I'm so dead.

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TBC... Oh, I know I'm mean, but you have to have a little suspense, right? Please tell me what you think - I love reading your reviews about what made you laugh or die of suspence, and I esteem your opinions highly!