Time for all the legal specificities: I don't own In A Heartbeat, or any characters within it. I can only dream that Shawn Ashmore were mine. The plot is mine, though.

FEEDBACK: I dream of it, and, yes, this is me shamelessly begging for reviews.

DISTRIBUTION: E-mail me at and I'll send it in full to you, if you really want it.

The sirens were certainly not a welcome distraction from the Calculus that Hank Beecham was currently meddling over. Expected, yes; welcome, no. As he and the rest of his crew at Kingsport EMS rushed to the holding bay, he fought against the sleep pushing at his brain. He had been doing this for awhile, and as a result, was the leader of the group. Still, some of the calls that they went on were, to say the least, rough. In the past month, Hank had seen three people die. For most EMTs, that wasn't unusual. But Hank was only seventeen, and death was an all-too-common occurrence in his life.

The ambulance could easily push one-hundred, and Hank was making use of that. The call was on the freeway, a MVA that was sure to be messy. Given that the roads were still slick from the freak storm recently, and the speed limit was rarely followed in this area, there was no telling just how bad it really was.

"We've got four vehicles. Two SUVs hit head-on, and a truck swerved to miss it. Caught a sedan and the entire mess got mixed up. Local PD and Fire Department are on their way," Hank's partner, and best friend, Tyler Connell called from the back. Jamie Waite, the newest addition, although he was not new, looked back from his position in the passenger seat. He was still getting used to this, and it was moments like this that reaffirmed that he was always going to have the nagging fear that he'd be sure to mess up. Val Lanier sat unusually stoic in her seat in the back, still in a shock from her father's all-too-sudden heart attack a month ago. He'd been getting progressively worse, and the doctors feared having to do a full-bypass surgery. Val just hadn't been the same since the news was broke.

"Any idea how many?" Jamie asked, curious to know what they were getting into.

"Reports of at least five adults, three children. Could be more," Hank replied, keeping his focus on the road. They were almost there, and Hank knew that every second counted.

"I've got the trauma kit ready, backboards are setup," Tyler reported. The ambulance came to a sudden halt, and the group mechanically, but quickly, shuffled out with their gear. Val and Tyler took one trauma kit to a group on the side of the road, while Jamie and Hank made use of the other on the opposite side. Hank did a quick head count...One, two, three, four, five adults, one, two...hold on, weren't there three kids?

"Where's the other kid?" He screamed loudly to the fireman who was apparently in charge. He was standing by the vehicle, engrossed in the contents.

"Still trapped. He isn't conscious, but we can't get him out."

"The engine's off?"

"Yeah, but, I'm worried about that." He pointed to a puddle on the ground. To any untrained eye, it looked like another patch of water, but to both Hank and the captain, it meant a certain explosion.

"Gas leak. I got it. I'll make sure the kid's okay. Jamie, I need a spine board and collar!" Jamie ran to the ambulance and got the last one, as Val had boarded up the young woman from the sedan. He was back as fast as he'd left, unstrapping the ties so that they could transport the little boy as fast as possible.

"We've got some blood, Hank." And Hank saw it. A steady stream of deep crimson blood poured from the kid's head. Whether it was from a laceration or out of his mouth, or ears, they couldn't tell. Hank worked faster.

The door wouldn't budge, so Hank attempted to kick the window in. Nope. Jamie walked over and put his hand on his friend's shoulder, they timed it perfectly. As one, two boots flew out and kicked in the car passenger window, scattering glass into the front seat, the kid was in back.

"Just a second!" Hank called to the boy, who was now conscious.

"What's your name, kid?" Jamie asked.

"Daniel. My name's Daniel."

"All right, Daniel, tell me, can you feel everything? Does it hurt?" Hank was working the door off of it's track so he could open it.

"Yeah. I can feel everything, my head hurts, and my side. I'm stuck!" Daniel shifted slightly.

"Daniel, can you move?" Hank was getting more worried. The blood was pouring, and the door wasn't cooperating.

"Uh-huh."

"Move unless it hurts. Unbuckle your seatbelt." Hank and Jamie pulled the back door open.

"Got it! Ow." Daniel had removed the seatbelt and revealed a large spot of blood on his shirt. Hank's eyes widened at the sight. There was far too much blood there. Hank picked the boy up, keeping him as straight as possible. Hank noticed woefully that, as he held Daniel's leg, that he did not respond. The collar and board were strapped tightly and they loaded him on the second ambulance. Paramedics had arrived, and two other ambulance, including their own, had already left the scene. Tyler and Val were gone as well, most likely with the two children they had immediately tended to. Another vehicle was loading two stretchers onto it, and Jamie muttered the words emblazoned on the back out loud.

"Coroner. Man, we lost two."

"Maybe more!" A paramedic the teens had worked with before, Jackson, yelled. The IV tubes were pumping fluid into Daniel, and, for the first time, Hank noticed how pale the child was. He knew now that the vehicle he was in got the worst. One of those two bodies was Daniel's father apparently. Monitors beeped loudly, and a paramedic called out at his partner. Jamie wasn't even licensed to use a needle, so he was basically equipment manager for the time, and Hank was busy fixing up the IV carriage.

"I need a mask! I'm not getting any breathing! Pulse in weak and erratic! I need the mask." Jackson hooked the mask on the boy's face and began breathing into Daniel's mouth.

"C'mon, Danny. C'mon. Don't lose it, man, hold on," Hank prayed to the child. The trip to the hospital only lasted five minutes, although it seemed to last forever. The paramedics wheeled this final stretcher in through the automatic door of the Kingsport Hospital Emergency Room and straight into the Operating Room. That wasn't a good sign.

"We're waiting on word for the kids. We lost two men, since we got here."

"Yeah, we saw the two DOA victims," Jamie affirmed to Tyler, who was sitting in a chair across from the entrance. His best friend and fellow EMT, Val Lanier, sat next to Tyler, tiredly laying her head on Tyler's shoulder. Caitie Roth was there as well, the reason for which both Hank and Jamie were unsure. Her dark eyes were red-rimmed, and her dark mascara was smeared.