Title: Finding yourself

Summary: Paramedics do everything at 60 mph: their jobs and their life. They spend their lives taking care of others, but who takes care of them? Can one paramedic save another or will their job take its toll on them?

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Saved. I do own Christine 'Chris' Morgan. But if she's real, my apologies, I don't own her. Please don't sue; I'm a poor high school girl.

A/N: I've only seen one episode of the show so far, so I'm basically making this up as I go along.

A/N: This is probably a little different than any part of the show. I don't care. When an idea pops into my head, I type it out on paper; sometimes the ideas give way to stories, and sometimes they don't. This is just an idea. It's not meant to be an episode of the show or anything. My apologies to those who I offend, but I don't care.

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The next few weeks went by without a hitch. Wyatt and I had gotten closer and closer, and were now best friends. Luckily, Angela and Harper had kept their mouths shut and hadn't told anybody but Sack how good Wyatt and I were getting along. Today, though, Wyatt didn't show up for work, so I was partnered with Sack. About forty five minutes before the end of shift, we get a call about someone bleeding from the head.

"I wonder who it is."

"It's probably just a drunk, Sack. The only people bleeding from the head at a quarter after 11:00 pm are drunks."

We get there and the who the person is surprises us.

"Hey, isn't that Wyatt?"

"Yeah, I think it is."

"Do you want to handle it or should I?"

"Hey, Christine, you're his partner. You go take care of him."

I grab my bag, hop out of the bus, and walk over to where Wyatt is sitting next to a bleeding. His injuries are mostly on his face, but far more extensive that just a scalp laceration.

"What the hell happened, Wyatt?"

"Old gambling debts finally got the best of me."

I clean him up the best I can.

"Can we drop you off somewhere? Your apartment, a friends apartment?"

"I don't have any more friends."

"Come on, don't be like that. You have Sack, Angela, Harper, Lieu, me. We're all here for you, Wyatt."

He looks up at me for a moment, studying my facial expressions.

"Are you sure we can't drop you somewhere?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. It's alright."

I gather up my stuff and get back to the bus, where Sack is looking a little confused.

"Wyatt had some scratches, bruises on his face. There was the one main laceration on his forehead, but that was the worst of what he had, and it was only that bad, because head wounds bleed so much."

"Does he need us to leave him somewhere?"

"I kept asking him, but Wyatt kept saying no."

"Do you think he's going to be okay out in the middle of nowhere, by himself?"

"I sure hope so, John. I really, really do."

We get back to the house, and go through the process of cleaning the bus up, and getting it ready for next shift. I've already changed out of my work uniform, so I'm out of the front door as soon as possible. I'm barely away from the firehouse when I see Wyatt walking towards me.

"Oh, hey Wyatt."

"Hey, Chris."

"Can I help you with something?"

"Yeah, actually, I just wanted to do this."

Before I can ask Wyatt what 'this' is, my back is pressed up against the wall of the firehouse, with him standing in front of me, our lips locked together in a kiss.

"What was that for, Wyatt?"

"Well, I've been thinking about that all day. It was sort of a thank you for helping me out and not telling Lieu that you found me drunk and beat up."

"That was a good thank you."

"A good thank you, huh? How about I say thank you for putting up with me for so long?"

"I could live with that."

We kissed again, and before either of us knew it, we were in Wyatt's bed, our clothes lying in piles all around us.