Chapter 7
Turning the corner, Engine 51 arrived at the scene.
"L.A. Engine 51. We have a three-car accident. Respond an ambulance."
"Engine 51."
No fire, but that looks like gasoline leaking from the pick-up truck.
"Chet, grab a reel line and wash everything down."
A woman waved him down, stepping away from the growing crowd.
"Were you in the accident ma'am?"
"Yes. Oh, I'm fine, really. My car's the green one. I was sitting at the stop sign waiting for the pick-up truck to go. The white car blew right through and t-boned the pick-up. Then they slid into me. There's a man in the truck. I don't know about the car."
"Okay ma'am. The police should be here soon. I want you to tell the officer exactly what you told me. Then, I'm going to have my paramedics take a look at you." She nodded, retreating back to the curb.
"Cap!" Chet called. "There's someone in the car. It looks pretty bad."
Grabbing the handy-talkie from the cab, Hank took a quick scan of the scene. Marco stood at the driver's side of the pick-up truck, Mike next to him. Chet was continuing to wash down the cars and the road. Hank made towards the car.
Oh my god. This isn't good.
It was crushed. The front bumper accordioned into the dashboard, leaving only a small space between the knotted metal and the front seats. The cracked windshield was misted red. A limp figure sprawled across the front seat.
He knew. Still, as he approached the car, he made sure the scene was secure, that no hidden dangers awaited his paramedics.
Okay boys. Where are you? I need you. He looked down the street behind him.
"Hank what've you got?" He saw the officer approaching from his right.
"Three cars, three victims that we know of. One here," he motioned to the car, the officer recognized the grimace on his face, "one in the pick-up, and the woman in the cream sweater on the curb." He looked up. She seemed to realize that he was talking about her because she waved her arm to the police.
"Phillips, you get her report," he spoke to his partner. "I'll take care of the crowd."
Thank God that they can only see the rear of the car from the sidewalk.
It was a small blessing, but Hank accepted it with great thanks, noticing the crowd was growing.
Checking on Marco and Mike, he found Mike positioning the jaws.
"What've you got?"
"The man says he's fine. The doors are jammed."
"Okay."
He was about to reach for the HT to inquire as to Squad 51's location when a distant siren suddenly became much louder as it turned onto the street. As they approached, Hank waved Roy over to the car, intentionally using the vehicle to block the view of the crushed car.
"Roy, John, we've got a man trapped in this car. It's not good."
Maybe it was the captain's tone, maybe it was their training, maybe it was common sense, but as a knowing look passed between them, Roy and John knew that there was no chance for the driver of the car.
Johnny jumped out as Roy put the gear into park, already assessing the victim before Roy was out of the squad. He was just able to reach the victim's neck through the broken windows to check for a pulse.
"Roy?" A certain sternness rested on his cheek bones. Roy nodded in response. Hank knew.
Abandoning the car, John ran to the passenger's side of the truck, assessing his victim for trauma as Mike and Marco worked to free the man from the wreckage.
"Does that hurt?" John felt his shoulders and collarbone.
"Yeah, a bit."
"It might be broken so we're gonna have to take ya to Rampart."
"Roy?"
A woman stood next to Hank. She appeared calm to the average person, but the trained professionals could see the shakiness in her eyes.
"Roy, Mrs. Gibbs here was driving the green car. Says she's fine but I wanted you to take a look at her anyways."
"Sure Cap! Would you mind leading her over to the running board of the engine? I'm just gonna grab some supplies."
"No problem Roy."
Leading her to the engine, he made sure to keep her turned away from the carnage. Pulling out the HT, he relayed an update to dispatch.
"L.A. Engine 51 out 15 minutes."
"Engine 51."
When Roy reached them, stethoscope around his neck and BP cuff in hand, he noticed that Hank stayed put, ensuring that the woman's view of the car was blocked by his body.
It was well into the afternoon by the time Hank got around to checking on his men. Scenes like the accident this morning were all too common, a fact that weighed heavily on him. After accompanying the victims to Rampart, Squad 51 had multiple calls. This was the first time he'd seen his paramedics since they left the scene. He needed to check on his men, but didn't want to disrupt the card game currently occupying the four men.
Four? Where's Marco?
He wasn't with the other guys, so Hank set about searching for his missing man. He didn't have to search long, the station was only so big. He found Marco sitting on his bed, a Bible open before him.
Hearing someone approaching, Marco looked up.
"Hey Cap!"
"Hi Marco. Missed you in the rec room." He raised his eyebrows.
"You know Cap, sometimes, you just need a minute to yourself to think. After that car accident this morning, I needed a minute. This is first one I've had."
Hank nodded. They'd had another call not long after leaving the accident scene. By the time they got back to the station, the four men were too hungry to talk.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Concern etched his voice.
"Cap, when me and Mike were trying to free the driver, he told me that he was just out for a drive to clear his head. He'd been offered a promotion which came with a lot of responsibility. He wasn't sure if he was the right fit, but it was a position that he had been wanting for years."
A comfortable silence. Hank watched Marco think. He smiled at how expressive his friend's eyes could be.
"Cap, he said that it wasn't the qualifications that he worried about. It was fitting in to the ideal mold of what other people think he should be. The whole time, he didn't even ask why this happened to him, why he was in a car accident when all he was doing was going for a drive. Instead, he just said, 'maybe this is my wake-up call to do something not because other people think I should, but because I think I should."
Hank remained silent, sensing his friend had more to say.
"It just got me thinking about myself. In a lot of ways, I don't fit into the mold of a firefighter, but in a lot of ways, I do."
"What are you trying to say?"
"A lot of people keep asking me when I'm up for a promotion. Just this morning, some of the guys on B-shift were asking me about it since exams are coming up this summer. That's the idea right? I've been a lineman for twelve years now. The thing is, I don't know if I want to try for engineer. I guess that, at least for now, I'm happy with where I am."
"I'm glad to hear that pal." Relief was evident in his voice.
"You sound relieved, Cap."
"You know," Hank said with a light laugh, "for a moment there I thought that maybe you were gonna drop some bombshell on me. You know, that you weren't happy as a fireman."
The men laughed, but Marco gave a look that Hank couldn't place.
Suspicion?
"Cap? Thanks for listening. I'm really grateful to be your lineman, but I'm even more grateful to be your friend."
"I'm grateful to be your friend." The way he paused told Marco that he had something else to say.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong, I just have been thinking about what it means to 'fit the mold'. I guess it all comes down to perspective."
"Marco, you've got something there. Perspective…"
Laughing, Marco spoke again, "I think you're going to go do some thinking now, am I right?"
"You know me too well."
He patted his lineman on the shoulder and left him to ponder freely within the solace of his bunk space.
Leaving the dorm, he took in the openness of the bay.
Hank? If that were you driving that pick-up, what would you have done?
"Oh shut up Chet."
"Stop being such a sore loser John."
"StOp BeInG sUcH a SoRe LoSeR JoHn," Johnny imitated.
"The Phantom always wins card games!"
The peaceful silence in the bay was disrupted, bringing Hank back to reality. Following the voices, he found himself returning to the kitchen to investigate the argument, where he met Roy and Mike just outside the kitchen door.
"John lost cards again," Hank stated. He knew he didn't need to ask. John Gage always lost card games and he could be quite sore about it.
Usually a few insults would be thrown followed by an empty threat or two. There had been a time when Hank was sure that his men hated one another. It didn't take long after his arrival to 51s to learn that Chet was just as sensitive as Johnny, and perhaps more so. John might have been good at keeping secrets and hiding his demons, but he wasn't good at hiding his mood. Chet on the other hand, could camouflage anything under the ruse of The Phantom. Hank remembered one such time.
The Squad backed into the bay more slowly than usual. Taking the key out of the ignition, no movement was made by either man to exit the squad. This got Hank's attention.
'Oh no.'
He'd followed them into the kitchen where Johnny reached for the cupboard.
"Don't." Chet had said.
"What?" Johnny asked.
"I said don't John. The Phantom doesn't like to strike at times like this. The Phantom knows what you tried to do for the kid."
The engine hadn't responded to the call, but knew that it a possible poisoning. Calls about children were the worst for all six men on A-shift, especially for Roy and Hank since they were fathers. For some reason, that call had gotten to Chet. Soon after setting off the water bomb on himself, he'd left the kitchen presumably to change. When he'd been gone for a concerning amount of time, Hank had gone to look for him, finding him sitting on the bench in front of his locker. When he was with his crewmates, he wore the straight face. Alone, however, Chet would let his guard down, which is exactly how Hank found him that afternoon.
"You okay pal?"
The question was answered with silence.
"Chet? I need you to say something."
"What do you want me to say?" He snapped.
Hank was taken back by the uncharacteristic tone.
"Chet," he spoke firmly, but not condescendingly, "I need you to tell me what's got you upset."
Chet's lips wanted to speak, but Hank noticed the breath Chet was intentionally holding convulsing in his lungs. He'd talked to Chet a few times about his past, about his upbringing and his time in the army. At times, those were difficult subjects for his friend to discuss; Hank felt honored that his friend would confide his deepest secrets in him. He hoped that today, Chet would trust him enough to let him into his mind.
"When I was a kid, my best friend died from some kind of poison. We'd been playing ball in his yard, his mom had a vegetable garden. Every summer at the county fair she'd vie for "Most Round Tomato" or "Biggest Carrot." Her biggest competitor was the next-door neighbor. That old woman was a lousy person. She'd tried to sabotage my friend's mom before, but this time, she poured pesticides or something in the plants. The plants didn't look healthy but my friend figured it was just the drought. We'd been playing ball all afternoon and were hungry. He picked a carrot from the garden to munch on. It only took a few seconds for it to hit him. He was eating, then he was coughing. He couldn't breath and he fell over. I…I can still see him shaking on the ground…I…".
Hank remembered how Chet broke off, his eyes void of life. Hank hadn't thought twice before he grabbed the man and pulled him into a fatherly hug.
"Cap? I froze. I didn't run for help. I was scared. I knew he was dying but I didn't run for his mom. I know now that it wouldn't've made any difference. But I just don't know if I can forgive myself for doing nothing. And this kid today? He tried to get help. He was sick and he still tried to get help. But his mother wouldn't listen. This poor kid…"
Chet's voice broke into deep sobs. Hank sat on the bench, cradling his friend.
From that day on, any time there was a call involving a child, Hank made sure to assign Chet the task of helping care for the child, whether it be a rescue, medical treatment, or just talking to the child. He wasn't sure if Chet truly had a soft spot for kids or if he was trying to forgive himself for something no child should ever have to experience, but being able to play a part in saving a child seemed to bring Chet a sense of peace.
"ThE PhAnToM aLwAyS wInS." John mocked again.
Knowing that John tended to vent frustration in a slightly more combative manner, Hank stepped in.
"Well, the Captain would like to see The Phantom in his office."
John snickered, Hank barely hid his amusement.
"Yes Sir." Chet resigned.
Seeing the grin on Hank's face when he turned around, Mike and Roy chuckled.
"Cap?"
Chet stood at the office door, having hurriedly followed him from the kitchen.
"Yes Chet…I just wanted to touch base with you about this morning."
His heart fluttered, shifting into a faster gear as blood rushed to his face.
What happened thi…oh the car accident? Couldn't be that…Mike? Mike was late but Cap surprisingly seems like he's okay with it…Maybe he's not…
"Chet, sit down, will you?" Hank asked, quickly adding, "You aren't in trouble" after noticing the apparent distress on his friend's face.
"Then what do you need to talk to me about?"
"Well, I just wanted to check in on you after the car accident this morning. You saw the worst of it so I wanted to see how you were doing. It was a bit graphic." He folded his hands.
"Well, yeah, it was graphic. I guess I didn't think too much about it."
Seeing that Chet was being genuine, Hank was satisfied with the answer.
"Okay. If you do decide that something about it was bothering you, please come to me."
"Cap?"
"Yeah?"
"Are you okay?"
The question surprised him, in fact it almost scared him.
Am I okay? Is that why I'm checking in on all my men?
Shifting in his seat, Hank pondered the question for a few seconds, before admitting defeat.
If I was okay, maybe I wouldn't be asking everyone else if they're okay.
"I'm okay, but I do have to admit that it shook me up a little. Car accidents are too common and seeing something like that definitely can get to any one of us. Today it got me thinking, so I decided to check in on all of you."
It wasn't a lie. He had been thinking about it since they got back to the station a while earlier.
"Cap? Thanks for checking in. I know it's hard for all of us to admit it when something is bothering us, so thank you for being honest with me. They're always telling us that if we let this job get to us, then it will kill us. What they don't tell us is how we're supposed to cope with the things that get to us."
"Chet, if there's anything I've learned, it's that you rely on your crew to get you through. That's what I've done for the past five years."
"Has there ever been a time when you couldn't rely on us?"
"What?" Hank was shocked.
"You know, sometimes we do stupid things and let you down. How do you rely on us when we do that?"
The question barreled toward him, ramming his chest, forcing the air from his lungs. His face paled. Thankfully for Hank, the klaxon sounded at that moment.
"Station 51, Station 8, Squad 10, Battalion 14. Building collapse with people trapped. 134 Bruce Place. 1-3-4 Bruce Place, cross street Pavilion. Time out. 15:57."
As he bolted from his chair to the radio, one thought cross Hank's mind.
How do you rely on me when I, the captain let you down?
Author's Note
The flashback about the child dying from poison uses some of the exact dialogue from the episode "Messing Around" (3.16).
