TITLE: Rescue me
Chapter 07
AUTHOR: Ceindreadh
EMAIL: ceindreadh@eircom.net
CATEGORY: drama/angst/gen
WARNING: none
RATING: PG-13
SPOILERS: none
DISCLAIMER: They're not mine, I'm just borrowing them and I'll return them to Norman Felton and Warner Bros when I've finished with them
Thanks to FatCat and Kelly for Betaing this for me.
Part 07/07
Napoleon made his way out of the hospital, unable to keep the smile off his face. He had spoken to the doctor and had been assured again that Illya should make a full recovery. Not that Napoleon would be fully satisfied until Illya was up and about again, but he had been sufficiently convinced that Illya would be in good hands for the next few hours while he attended to some unfinished business.
"Excuse me," said Napoleon to the man who was busily tidying up the inside of the ambulance. "Dispatch said that I'd find you here."
"Can I help you?"
"You already did," replied Napoleon. "Yesterday...you brought my friend and I in after a fire. You saved his life."
The man looked at him blankly for a few seconds before recognition dawned on his face. "The smoke inhalation, right? Little guy with blond hair. How's he doing?"
"The doctor says he's going to be fine, but if it hadn't been for you...I just...I just wanted to thank you."
The medic shrugged easily, "Just doing my job. Heck, those firefighters are the guys you really need to thank. If they'd been just a few minutes slower in getting him out, well there wouldn't have been much *I* could have done." He climbed down out of the ambulance and slammed the door shut. "But I'm glad your buddy's going to be okay. Just tell him to stay out of burning buildings in future!"
------------------------
Somebody who had no immediate plans to stay out of burning buildings was the firefighter at the fifty-first, which was Napoleon's next port of call. He couldn't explain why he felt it was so important to personally thank all the people who had had a hand in saving Illya's life. Maybe it was residual guilt over the fact that *he* should have been the one to drag Illya out of the fire rather than a bunch of faceless strangers. Perhaps it was for that reason that he felt the need to put faces to them...to thank them all in person.
"We were just doing our job," said Williams, the firefighter who had carried Illya from the flames. "Go in, get people out. All in a days work. Your buddy was mighty lucky though. Nearly missed him on the first sweep there was so much smoke there. Only Curtis here," he indicated the firefighter sitting next to him at the table. "He swore he heard some sort of beeping noise so we figured we'd better take another look."
"A beeping noise?" Napoleon blinked. "It wasn't...did it sound like this?" Pulling out Illya's communicator he activated it making it beep.
"Hey that's a neat trick," commented Curtis. "But yeah, that's it. Man I could barely hear it above the flames but it just kept beeping away until I nearly tripped over your pal all huddled up in a corner."
"If it hadn't a been for that, we'd have probably never found him," commented Williams. "What is it anyway, some kind of smoke alarm?"
"We would have found him eventually," said Chief Stevens firmly. "My men don't leave people behind. This little toy," he waved almost dismissively at the communicator. "Well it probably got them to him a few minutes quicker, but they'd have found him, you can be sure of that."
"I am sure," said Napoleon as he stood to leave. "And I'm profoundly grateful that you did. I guess I just wanted to make sure that you knew that."
Chief Stevens finally cracked a smile, "Not many people remember us after the crisis is over. Or rather, they don't want to remember us...not until the next time they need us."
"Well I won't forget you, any of you," said Napoleon. "And I've one more person to thank...one of the police officers who was there."
-----------------------
Napoleon stopped by the burnt out building on his way to the local police station. He shuddered involuntarily at the sight of the blackened walls, every smear of smoke and trace of water damage another reminder of just how lucky he and Illya had been to survive.
To Napoleon's surprise however, Officer Clancy proved more difficult to locate than any of the other rescuers. The clerk at the nearest station house was unable to help him. "I'm sorry Mr. Solo, but I have a record of every officer who attended that call, and there's nobody called Clancy among them."
"Maybe he was on his way off duty and just stopped to help out," suggested Napoleon.
The clerk shook his head; "We don't even have an officer by that name. Look, I'll check some of the neighboring precincts. Maybe one of their men was there."
"Thank you," said Napoleon, his eyes wandering round the station house. A small display of pictures in a corner caught his eye and he strolled over to take a closer look. Right in the middle was a photo of his rescuer of the previous night with the name 'Sergeant Frederick Clancy' written below it.
"Hey," said Napoleon, a trace of puzzlement in his voice. "I thought you said you didn't have an officer named Clancy here?" He pointed to the picture.
The clerk put his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone. "I said we don't...not now anyway...the Sarge was on duty outside a burning building bout ten years ago...some guy runs inside, Sarge goes after him to try and save him...neither of them came out. That's why his photo's up there with all the other cops who've died on the line."
Napoleon felt an eerie chill run down his spine as he looked at the photo.
Without a word he turned and left the station
Later, back at his apartment, Napoleon quickly poured himself a shot of bourbon and knocked it back. The fiery liquid burned a trail down his already raw throat and nearly made him sick, but had the benefit of settling his nerves. It had to be a mistake he told himself...surely there was another cop from another precinct called Clancy...and looking exactly like an officer who had died ten years earlier.
Napoleon poured himself more bourbon but hesitated as he raised the glass to his lips.
If it hadn't been for Clancy, he would have never made it out of the house alive...he would have never tried to contact Illya on the communicator...Illya would have been dead before the firefighters found him. With his free hand, Napoleon fumbled for the communicators and laid them gently on the counter beside the bottle of whisky. Did it matter how the chain of events had taken place, so long as the outcome had been to have Illya survive?
"I don't believe in ghosts," Napoleon said out loud. "But whoever...whatever you are...thank you." Raising the glass to the empty air he said, "To Sergeant Clancy, wherever you are." As the liquid slid down his throat, Napoleon could have sworn he heard somebody say "You're welcome boyo. Just doing my job."
--------------------
The End
Chapter 07
AUTHOR: Ceindreadh
EMAIL: ceindreadh@eircom.net
CATEGORY: drama/angst/gen
WARNING: none
RATING: PG-13
SPOILERS: none
DISCLAIMER: They're not mine, I'm just borrowing them and I'll return them to Norman Felton and Warner Bros when I've finished with them
Thanks to FatCat and Kelly for Betaing this for me.
Part 07/07
Napoleon made his way out of the hospital, unable to keep the smile off his face. He had spoken to the doctor and had been assured again that Illya should make a full recovery. Not that Napoleon would be fully satisfied until Illya was up and about again, but he had been sufficiently convinced that Illya would be in good hands for the next few hours while he attended to some unfinished business.
"Excuse me," said Napoleon to the man who was busily tidying up the inside of the ambulance. "Dispatch said that I'd find you here."
"Can I help you?"
"You already did," replied Napoleon. "Yesterday...you brought my friend and I in after a fire. You saved his life."
The man looked at him blankly for a few seconds before recognition dawned on his face. "The smoke inhalation, right? Little guy with blond hair. How's he doing?"
"The doctor says he's going to be fine, but if it hadn't been for you...I just...I just wanted to thank you."
The medic shrugged easily, "Just doing my job. Heck, those firefighters are the guys you really need to thank. If they'd been just a few minutes slower in getting him out, well there wouldn't have been much *I* could have done." He climbed down out of the ambulance and slammed the door shut. "But I'm glad your buddy's going to be okay. Just tell him to stay out of burning buildings in future!"
------------------------
Somebody who had no immediate plans to stay out of burning buildings was the firefighter at the fifty-first, which was Napoleon's next port of call. He couldn't explain why he felt it was so important to personally thank all the people who had had a hand in saving Illya's life. Maybe it was residual guilt over the fact that *he* should have been the one to drag Illya out of the fire rather than a bunch of faceless strangers. Perhaps it was for that reason that he felt the need to put faces to them...to thank them all in person.
"We were just doing our job," said Williams, the firefighter who had carried Illya from the flames. "Go in, get people out. All in a days work. Your buddy was mighty lucky though. Nearly missed him on the first sweep there was so much smoke there. Only Curtis here," he indicated the firefighter sitting next to him at the table. "He swore he heard some sort of beeping noise so we figured we'd better take another look."
"A beeping noise?" Napoleon blinked. "It wasn't...did it sound like this?" Pulling out Illya's communicator he activated it making it beep.
"Hey that's a neat trick," commented Curtis. "But yeah, that's it. Man I could barely hear it above the flames but it just kept beeping away until I nearly tripped over your pal all huddled up in a corner."
"If it hadn't a been for that, we'd have probably never found him," commented Williams. "What is it anyway, some kind of smoke alarm?"
"We would have found him eventually," said Chief Stevens firmly. "My men don't leave people behind. This little toy," he waved almost dismissively at the communicator. "Well it probably got them to him a few minutes quicker, but they'd have found him, you can be sure of that."
"I am sure," said Napoleon as he stood to leave. "And I'm profoundly grateful that you did. I guess I just wanted to make sure that you knew that."
Chief Stevens finally cracked a smile, "Not many people remember us after the crisis is over. Or rather, they don't want to remember us...not until the next time they need us."
"Well I won't forget you, any of you," said Napoleon. "And I've one more person to thank...one of the police officers who was there."
-----------------------
Napoleon stopped by the burnt out building on his way to the local police station. He shuddered involuntarily at the sight of the blackened walls, every smear of smoke and trace of water damage another reminder of just how lucky he and Illya had been to survive.
To Napoleon's surprise however, Officer Clancy proved more difficult to locate than any of the other rescuers. The clerk at the nearest station house was unable to help him. "I'm sorry Mr. Solo, but I have a record of every officer who attended that call, and there's nobody called Clancy among them."
"Maybe he was on his way off duty and just stopped to help out," suggested Napoleon.
The clerk shook his head; "We don't even have an officer by that name. Look, I'll check some of the neighboring precincts. Maybe one of their men was there."
"Thank you," said Napoleon, his eyes wandering round the station house. A small display of pictures in a corner caught his eye and he strolled over to take a closer look. Right in the middle was a photo of his rescuer of the previous night with the name 'Sergeant Frederick Clancy' written below it.
"Hey," said Napoleon, a trace of puzzlement in his voice. "I thought you said you didn't have an officer named Clancy here?" He pointed to the picture.
The clerk put his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone. "I said we don't...not now anyway...the Sarge was on duty outside a burning building bout ten years ago...some guy runs inside, Sarge goes after him to try and save him...neither of them came out. That's why his photo's up there with all the other cops who've died on the line."
Napoleon felt an eerie chill run down his spine as he looked at the photo.
Without a word he turned and left the station
Later, back at his apartment, Napoleon quickly poured himself a shot of bourbon and knocked it back. The fiery liquid burned a trail down his already raw throat and nearly made him sick, but had the benefit of settling his nerves. It had to be a mistake he told himself...surely there was another cop from another precinct called Clancy...and looking exactly like an officer who had died ten years earlier.
Napoleon poured himself more bourbon but hesitated as he raised the glass to his lips.
If it hadn't been for Clancy, he would have never made it out of the house alive...he would have never tried to contact Illya on the communicator...Illya would have been dead before the firefighters found him. With his free hand, Napoleon fumbled for the communicators and laid them gently on the counter beside the bottle of whisky. Did it matter how the chain of events had taken place, so long as the outcome had been to have Illya survive?
"I don't believe in ghosts," Napoleon said out loud. "But whoever...whatever you are...thank you." Raising the glass to the empty air he said, "To Sergeant Clancy, wherever you are." As the liquid slid down his throat, Napoleon could have sworn he heard somebody say "You're welcome boyo. Just doing my job."
--------------------
The End
