Chapter 13:

July 31, 1977.

It was bright and early when Mike Stoker arrived at Station 51. He was always early, except for that one long-since forgotten anomaly two weeks earlier and as always, he seemingly snuck into the station without a sound. From the occasional clink of a cup or spoon, he couldn't tell which, he knew that B-Shift was alive, but not quite awake. That much was obvious given the aroma of coffee permeating the station air. The duffel bag slung over his shoulder bounced against his back with every step, the lengthy captain's manual digging into his flesh each time the bag jostled against him. The exam had been two days ago. He felt cautiously optimistic, but not confident. However, there was a different reason why he'd arrived so early on this warm summer morning, a reason why he beat even the great Captain Stanley.

Caught between not wanting to disrupt the other shift and wanting to see if headquarters had delivered the board minutes, he stalled in the bay, a strong breeze trying to push him in further as it blew through the wide-open back bay door. Considering his options, the decision was made for him when Captain Mancuso walked out from the kitchen, intending to go to the office. He stopped when he saw the shadowy figure.

"Can I help you?" He asked.

Stepping into the light, Mancuso recognized the figure to be Mike Stoker.

"Mike! I didn't recognize you. Too dark. I just can't bring myself to turn on the lights."

"Cap, I understand. Some mornings, light is the last thing I need."

"What do I owe the pleasure? You aren't due for another…two hours!" He checked his watch.

"I know. I was…" his voice tapered off.

Mancuso stepped closer.

"Is everything alright, son?"

"Yeah."

He couldn't bring himself to say more. He liked Mancuso, but he wasn't Hank.

"How'd the exam go?"

"It went alright."

The knowing Captain didn't pry, understanding the introverted engineer would likely prefer to confide his true feelings with his captain.

"I'm glad to hear that. If you want to talk about that, or anything else…" He finished the sentence with a raised eyebrow.

Mike accepted the invitation.

"Yeah, I was just hoping that the board minutes would have been delivered by now. Maybe I'm too early?"

The older man laughed.

"No, son. They're here. Got dropped off last night actually."

He observed the eagerness of the engineer to see the report.

"Listen, I haven't looked at it yet, but I'll tell you what. Come with me and we can look at it together."

"Thank you, Sir!"

Grinning, Mike followed the older captain to the office.

"Have you heard anything?" John asked Marco and Chet as they walked to their lockers.

"Nada." Marco shook his head.

"Not a peep. And I even covered for Andy French at 45s on Saturday, which means that I spent twenty-four whole hours with Pete Frazier. That guy knows just about everything. And even he didn't know anything that the board was going to talk about today."

"Pete didn't know?" Marco was shocked.

"No!"

"Cap knows something for sure. You've seen how he's been for the past two weeks, so suspicious of everything." Chet said.

"Not just that. He's been jumping at the sight of his own shadow!" Marco reminded them.

"Look, maybe…maybe he'll tell us today. Remember, Cap said that announcements like this are usually timed so that they are announced at the board meetings." John suggested.

"Maybe Johnny. Let's look after the other shift leaves. I don't want to deal with any questions." Chet shook his head.

"Questions about what?"

Startled, the three jumped to attention, their close proximity resulting in Johnny slamming his elbow against a locker.

"Ouch! Roy! What'd you have to do that for?"

The sandy-haired paramedic opened his locker.

"What? I was just asking a question?"

"Oh, did poor Johnny get scared?" Chet poked.

"Well, you jumped too!"

Roy rolled his eyes.

"If you're talking about Cap, he's up to something. Dwyer said he was acting weird when he showed up about a half hour ago. Him and Mancuso have been hiding in the office ever since."

"Anybody seen Mike yet? Maybe he knows." Marco suggested.

"Knows what?"

All four of them jumped. This time, it was Chet who knocked his elbow against a locker.

"Ouch! Mike? What'd you have to do that for?"

Rolling his eyes again, Roy spoke up.

"Mike, have you heard anything about Cap?"

He had. He'd seen the report.

"Cap and Cap are in the office talking. The door's closed. I don't know what they're talking about."

It wasn't a lie. He didn't know what they were talking about.

"We need to be prepared for everything today." John proclaimed. "Let's get ready for roll call and be on our best behavior, Chet."

"You'd better be on your best behavior, pal!" Chet threatened.

"Oh, you…"

Shutting his own locker, John pointed a finger at Chet before promptly buttoning his shirt and leaving the room. Marco and Chet weren't far behind, scrambling after him to join C-shift in the rec room. Roy finished getting dressed, not missing the fact that Mike was already in uniform, ready for the day.

"How are you Mike?"

"I'm okay."

"You want to talk about it?" He offered.

"About?"

"The exam."

"No. I think I did alright, but I don't know. It was tricky. That's for sure. I should have the results on Friday."

"That fast? You only took the exam two days ago."

"They usually try to get the results back within a week, sooner if possible. I guess they don't want to waste time. Besides, even though I'll have my results, it will still be a few weeks before the actual list comes out and I see my rank."

"I guess it's different than the engineer's exam."

"It is, but they've also changed some things about the whole testing process since you last took it."

"I guess so."

The conversation, to both of their relief, lulled into an enjoyable companionship. Both men were too preoccupied with their thoughts to want to hold a conversation.

"Well," Roy tucked in his shirt. "I'm gonna pour some coffee and chaperone the duo."

Mike laughed.

"You know Roy, I still hold out hope that one day, they will become friends."

Roy joined his banter.

"Maybe one day, when we're all old and gray."

"Who will be gray first? You because of all that chaperoning or Johnny from getting all worked up over not being quite as good a prankster as Chet?"

"John. My hair will fall out before it's gray! And don't let Johnny hear that one. He might just put cinnamon in your spaghetti!"

"But then he'll eat it like he did the cookies."

Roy closed his locker, chuckling to himself. While John (and Chet) could drive him up a wall, watching their friendship was endearing, if infuriating at times, and Roy was grateful for the two men he could call his friends.

"I'll be out there."

"Okay."

The door swooshed shut, leaving Mike alone. Sure that no one was hiding, he opened his locker, pulling the captain's manual from his bag. Slipped inside the cover were two photos. Written on the back of the first photo was:

Chet Kelly, Marco Lopez, John Gage, Roy DeSoto, Hank Stanley, Mike & Hannah Stoker. May 14, 1975.

He gazed over the photo, taking in the detail on each man's face. The pure happiness and excitement radiated like a halo around them. His gaze stopped on Hannah.

"And I thought you were beautiful on our wedding day. If only you could see yourself now."

Written on the back of the second photo was:

Mike & Hannah Stoker. September 1976.

A smile rushed to his face as he reminisced the sight before him. Her face glowed in the sunlight, a breeze catching the hem of her skirt. He remembered how it fluttered in the wind, much like how his heart was fluttering now.

I'm so lucky to have a wife who would move the world for me.

"So that about covers it. Mike, you are cooking today. Spaghetti I hope? Roy, you've got the bay. John, dorms. Marco, rec room. Chet, latrines."

"Latrines." He murmured under his breath in unison with Hank, which earned him a glare.

"Did you have a question?"

"No Sir."

"Good. The last announcement is a reminder that today is the monthly board meeting of the department. The minutes have been delivered and are in my office. As soon as I finish this paperwork, I will hang it in the rec room so that you can take a look. Dismissed."

Each man headed in his own direction, setting about their assigned tasks. Each man except Mike, that was.

"Everything okay Mike?"

"Can we talk?"

The apprehension in his voice rattled him.

"Sure Mike. Come on."

Sitting in the office, Hank shot concerned glances toward his friend.

"What's on your mind?"

"I'm supposed to get my results back on Friday."

Hank smiled.

"I know. I was talking to the Chief the morning of the exam. He said you'd get the results quickly."

"But not the list."

"No, not the list."

A frown appeared on Mike's face.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing. I guess I just don't like waiting, you know? I'll know how well I did, but I won't know how well everyone else did."

"Mike. Don't worry about how well everyone else did or didn't do. You can only worry about yourself. If you did well, the department will recognize that. That's why you get your results back so quickly. Because the job of Captain isn't black and white, they have to discuss the more subjective aspects of the results, which is how they make the list. That's why it will take another week or two for that to come in."

"Is that how it was with the chief's exam?"

"No. There are only so many who take the exam that the objective results and the tester's record speak for themselves. How you score determines your rank, unless there is something else, whether good or bad, that has to be taken into consideration."

"I guess that makes sense."

He fell into silence, but Hank could tell that there was still a lot more on his friend's mind.

"Cap? I was feeling alright when I got here but now? Now I just worry that I screwed everything up. What if I failed? What if I let my family down?"

"The fact that you felt confident is good. It's only natural to start over-thinking as time goes on. You think about what you should've answered and you try to remember what you actually answered. I would be worried if you didn't have doubts."

"Why?"

"The very fact that you are doubting shows that you care. It shows that you want to do well because this promotion means something to you. Doubting tells me that you're thinking about what you know AND about what you don't know. It shows that you are interested in continually learning, continually growing."

"But what if I really did fail?"

"I know that in a few days, we're going to find out that you passed with flying colors. Don't dwell on failure until then. If you did fail, we'll talk. We'll figure something out. But I know you didn't."

"But what if I did? Would I be letting you down?"

That was a question that Hank wasn't prepared for.

He thought for a moment before answering.

"Mike, I wouldn't be disappointed in you. You have shown yourself to be an excellent fireman throughout your career. I don't believe that one exam has any reason to change that. I know you will make a wonderful captain when you're promoted. That's right. Not if, but when. I say that because I believe in you, Mike. So if you didn't make it this time, I would only be disappointed if you gave up and didn't try again."

"Cap? How do you always know what to say?"

Oh Mike, I don't. If only you knew.

"Most of the time I don't. But in this case, I can empathize with you. I was once going through the process of becoming a captain. Now I'm in the process of…" he stopped suddenly.

"…the process of becoming a chief." Mike finished.

"Yeah." He sighed.

"I think you've already proved that you will make a great chief."

"Thanks, Mike."

"No, thank you, Cap."

As Mike left the office to get his famous sauce simmering, a menacing thought crossed Hank's mind.

Mike, you have to make top of the list. Because if you don't, then who's going to take my place?"

"Squad 51, possible heart attack. 455 West Elliot. 4-5-5- West Elliot. Cross Street, Central. Time out, 9:27."

The calming voice of Sam Lanier broke through the abnormally quiet morning at Station 51. Chores forgotten, a mop laid abandoned on the bay floor, behind where the engine was parked. A bundle of sheets sat wadded on Marco's bed.

"Squad 51, KMG 365." Hank replied into the radio.

As the squad pulled away, Hank etched the sight into his memory. Returning to the office, he sat behind the desk, paperwork strewn about. He sighed, conceding that paperwork would soon become a larger part of his life.

As if it isn't already large enough.

"Engine 51, Squad 8, Motor Vehicle Accident on the Freeway. East Bound between exits 15 and 16. Time out, 9:42."

"Man, I'm hungry. You think we should stop for lunch?"

"Don't know. Maybe they have something ready at the station."

"I didn't hear them call available yet."

"Don't forget, we've been a bit tied up this morning."

"You can say that again, Pally! Heart burn, a stubbed toe, a scraped knee, two stuck kittens…. I'm beginning to think this whole city has gone nuts."

"I think you've gone nuts."

"You think I've gone nuts," he scoffed. "You know what your problem is Roy?"

"No, I don't." He steered the squad out of Rampart's parking lot.

"Your problem is that you…"

"Squad 51. Possible drowning. 121 Norman Rd. 1-2-1 Norman Rd. Cross Street, Peters. Time out, 13:56."

"Squad 51."

"You think they've had time to eat lunch yet?" Marco asked the engine crew who were gathered around the table, munching on sandwiches they'd picked up at the local deli. Mike's spaghetti sauce was finally simmering on the stove and if all went according to plan, which things rarely did at Station 51, in about four hours they'd all sit down to a hot meal of spaghetti and meat sauce, complete with freshly baked dinner rolls, also courtesy of the local deli.

"I don't know Marco. I never heard them call available after their last run." Mike answered between bites of his wrap.

I haven't heard them on the radio since they left this morning.

Twinges of guilt recoiled in his stomach. He wasn't hungry anymore. Forcing himself to swallow the bite he'd just taken, he laid the sandwich on the plate. The chair scraped against the floor, a common sound in the station, and his feet carried him to the stove where he took in a whiff of Mike's spaghetti sauce.

"They'll probably grab something at Rampart. Hopefully they'll be back in time to have some spaghetti." He placed the lid back on the pan, knowing his words were a feeble attempt to eradicate the guilt of not knowing where his men had last been called to.

"Probably," was the murmured reply from a mouth busy chewing on a sandwich.

Grabbing some foil from the drawer, he walked back to his place at the table.

"How can you not be hungry?" An incredulous Chet asked.

"I am. But, I also have a lot of paperwork to catch up on and the Chief will kill me if I hand in a report that smells like balsamic vinaigrette."

That earned him a chuckle.

"Finish the sandwich when you're done, or no spaghetti for you." Mike joked.

"Now who's the captain? You or me?"

A knowing smile passed between them.

Leaving the sandwich in the fridge, "HANK" written very clearly on the foil, he slipped off to the confines of the office.

"LA Squad 51, available."

About time! Hank thought.

"Squad 51, stand by for response."

Squad 51, Engine 51. Man trapped under a tree. 287 Dumont. 2-8-7 Dumont. Cross Street Dunn. Time out, 14:49."

Here we go again.

"LA Squad 51, available."

"Squad 51."

"What time is it?" John yawned.

"I don't even want to know."

"16:02."

"I said I didn't want to know."

"Well now you do know."

Roy glared over at John but he couldn't stay annoyed. The man was slumped against the door, his hands firmly holding his stomach. Despite his own hangryness, he felt compassion for his friend.

"Okay Junior, we're almost back to the station. Cap said that they put something in the fridge for us."

"When'd he say that?"

"You were already in the ambulance. He pulled me aside before I followed in the squad."

"Cap's a good man."

When he turned off the engine and looked up through the windshield, he wasn't surprised to see Hank leaning against the wall next to the bay door switch, arms crossed over his chest.

"Please tell me that you guys ate at some point today!"

He noted the down-trodden countenance on both faces, as well as the limply trudge of John Gage.

"No."

Roy and Hank watched John "storm" towards the kitchen, though it was more a stumbling waltz than anything dramatic.

"What's his problem?" Chet appeared from behind the engine.

"It's called, we haven't eaten since we left our houses this morning."

The stark frustration in his voice was enough for Hank to send Roy into the kitchen with strict orders to raid the fridge and Chet to the dorms to 'do some thinking.'

"About what?" Chet had asked.

"I don't know. Anything."

"But Cap?"

"Kelly."

"Why don't you go to the dorms and 'do some thinking'? Sure I'll do some thinkin'."

Slinging his body onto the bed, something crinkled under his weight.

"Oh great! I bet Gage put something in my bed before he and Roy got called out. Look! Only two beds got made. Mine and Johnny's. No surprise there. John's out to get me."

He pushed himself up and stared at the newly pressed indentation in the bed.

"Crummy mattresses." He muttered.

Surely enough, something was there. It looked like a piece of paper.

Pulling back the blanket and sheets, he saw that it wasn't a sheet of paper but rather a large envelop. Written on the top was his name: Kelly, Chester B. Only, it wasn't the chicken scratch of John Gage, but rather the graceful, loopy penmanship of Captain Stanley.

"Cap?" He asked aloud.

Hank almost responded before stopping himself. After sending Roy to eat, he'd walked to the latrine, hoping that Chet would find the envelop. Firmly pressed against the wall between the dorm and the lockers, he held his ear near the ever-so-slightly propped open door.

Sitting back on the bunk, he opened the envelop and pulled out the packet tucked within.

He gasped loudly. The envelop fell to the floor. He collapsed backward, thankful for the brick wall that he was constantly slamming his elbow into at night whenever he rolled over.

The title page of the packet stared back at him just as intensely as he stared at it:

A Guide to the Engineer's Exam.

Thursday August 20th, 1977.

At the bottom of the page was a sentence that Chet was expecting to panic at reading.

"Reminder: The last day to sign up for the exam is Saturday August 1st."

"August 1st? That's tomorrow! What am I gonna do?"

From his vantage point, Hank clasped his hand over his mouth to keep from laughing.

At least he seems interested. I wasn't sure how he'd take it.

"I gotta talk to Cap. He'll know what to do."

His heart jumped when he heard the familiar squawk of the bedframe rebound as Chet sprung up, his footsteps approaching the door that Hank was hiding behind. He breathed a sigh of relief as the footsteps turned for the door leading into the bay.

I guess I'd better get out there and try to act like I haven't been eavesdropping.

"Feeling better?" John nodded at his friend. His mouth was too full to speak.

"Good."

"See, did you two ever get a chance to eat something today?" Marco asked.

"No, we were running non-stop. We almost made it back to the station sometime mid-morning, but then got called out. I'm just grateful for these sandwiches." Roy answered.

"I'm surprised you didn't get something at Rampart." Mike stated.

"We thought about it, but decided we'd rather come back here and see if there was any news." Roy looked hopefully at his crewmates.

"You know what? He never put it out!" Marco exclaimed.

"He didn't?" John and Roy asked simultaneously.

"No! He said he would after doing paperwork, which that in itself was odd since he could get into trouble for not posting it if the Chief came by. But, we got called out and he never put it on the board."

Mike felt is heartbeat escalate. He had seen the minutes. He'd seen Mancuso hang them on the board for his crew. He'd also seen Hank sneak into the room and pull the paper off the board when he thought no one was looking.

'What are you trying to hide, Hank?' He thought to himself.

In reality, he'd come to understand at least some of what Hank was feeling. After all, just a few weeks earlier he'd been talking to Roy about how one day, one of them would leave the station for one reason or another. At the time, he hadn't considered that Hank would be the first to leave. Now, it was seeming like Hank's departure would soon be a reality and pretty soon after that, Mike might be facing a similar decision.

'Woah, Michael.' He chastised himself. 'Don't go off too deep until you at least know whether or not you passed.'

"Hey guys! You seen Cap? He's not in the office and I need to talk to him." Chet bounded into the room.

"Everything alright?" The ever-concerned Roy asked.

"Yes, but I need to ask him something."

"I thought he was in the office." Mike told him, wondering where Hank had disappeared to.

"Did you check the latrine? His car?" Marco offered.

"No. I'll see if I can find him."

"Who's missing?" Hank appeared in the doorway behind Chet.

"Oh, Cap! There you are. I have a question."

"Yes?" Hank nodded, knowing what was coming.

"Can I…can we…"

"Come on." He motioned for Chet to follow.

Instead of leading Chet to the office, Hank motioned him out to the parking lot. Safely out of earshot, Hank spoke first.

"Is this okay Chet? I've been spending too much time in the office lately and I'd like to get some air."

"Yeah, this is fine. Actually, better than the office. Less confined."

From the choppy sentences, he could tell his lineman was nervous.

"What would you like to ask?"

"Well…".

He hadn't actually thought the whole scenario through. He didn't even know who had put the envelop on his bed.

What if it wasn't Cap?

And that thought froze him.

As if reading his thoughts, Hank smiled.

"Does this have anything to do with that envelop you found?"

His eyes widened.

"How did you know?"

"Because I'm your Captain."

The dumbfounded expression was almost more than Hank could handle. Before he burst out laughing, he admitted his role to the younger man.

"It was me. I put the envelop under your bed. That's why I sent you to the dorm when the squad got back. First, John needed his space and second, you hadn't seen it yet and I wanted to make sure you were alone when you saw it."

"It was you?"

"Yes, it was me."

"But the bed."

"What about the bed?"

"It was made…"

"And? John had dorms today. He made it before they got called out."

"But he didn't make anyone else's."

Whenever he is assigned dorms, he always makes yours first. Then he makes his, then Marco's.

"Probably because he had just finished making yours and was going to move on to Marco's when the call came."

"Oh."

"So, what do you think?"

"Huh?"

"You wanted to talk to me about it."

"Oh, right! Do you want me to take the exam?"

"Do you want to take the exam?"

He was quiet, something uncharacteristic of Chet Kelly. He looked away, staring toward the 4-0-5.

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. No. I mean…" he stopped again.

"So you aren't sure."

"I don't know. I mean, I've been thinking about my career a lot, especially over the last year. I really want to be an engineer. I do! That's why I took the exam the last time. But I didn't do well. It was really hard. I studied for two months and I still didn't place high enough."

"Were you ready?"

"To take the exam? Yes. I studied for two months…"

"No," Hank interrupted. "Were you ready? Three years ago, were you ready to take on that responsibility?"

Chet smiled as he replied. "No."

"Exactly."

"Then why did you let me take it?"

"Because I knew that it would only make you stronger. And it has. Three years ago, you were chasing a promotion. Now, you are chasing a calling. The skills required of an engineer are skills that I've watched you develop. You've gained so much knowledge and intuition since then."

"But I haven't been studying. I don't know if I have enough time…"

"Then don't take it this year."

"But you gave me…"

"I gave it to you because I wanted you to think about it. You don't have to rush into anything. I want you to talk the exam when you are ready."

"But then I'd have to wait a whole year."

"You will. But you also will have a whole year to prepare."

"So it's okay if I wait?"

"Are you okay with waiting?"

It was a quarter-to-nine by the time the six men were reunited once more. A false alarm and a woman trapped under a pipe later, Engine 51 was enjoying Mike Stoker's famous spaghetti.

"Save some for Gage and DeSoto!" Cap warned.

"Don't worry, Cap. I've got theirs in the fridge already."

Hank laughed, grateful for his engineer's keen awareness of Chet's tendency to eat everything put in front of him.

By the time the squad returned, Hank was caught up on his paperwork and reports, a rare occurrence which he celebrated.

"Dinners in the oven." Hank called out over the tv.

"Thanks." John groaned.

The pair sat at the table eating as their counterparts enjoyed a movie.

"What movie is this?" John asked.

"No idea." Roy replied, sauce dying his skin to match his hair.

"Right." John shoveled another forkful into his mouth.

Slipping away from the movie, Mike joined them at the table.

"Busy evening?"

"You can say that again." Roy shook his head.

"Busy evening?" Chet echoed from his spot before the tv.

"Ha." John scoffed.

Whispering to Mike, Roy asked, "Did he put it out?"

"No."

"Maybe he actually forgot."

"Maybe. It has been a busy day."

Across the room, Hank was unaware of the conversation taking place. Despite his intense gaze at the tv, his mind was in a universe of its own, one not as fantastical as the one traversed by the Starship Enterprise.

Author's Note:

As stated previously, I have no idea how promotions actually work. Please don't read too far into that. I'm also aware that there are several inconsistencies in this story. This is the first story I've written in quite some time and it's been jarring to say the least. I have too many ideas and made the mistake of putting too many of them in this story. I kind of lost the original flow I was aiming to have. Oh well. I hope you've been enjoying it as much as I have, even with the mistakes.