AN: Hey, I'm sorry I keep dropping of the end of the earth. I really do try, but I'm just easily distracted. Anyway, here's the next chapter, I hope you guys like it. Thank you so much to anyone still reading and to everyone that keeps reminding me that they're out there and looking forward to reading more. Thank you!

"3, 2, 1, GO!" Sloan's deep bellow sets Jackson and myself in motion. We dive to the side while simultaneously firing off several rubber bands towards Sloan and Karev. As I duck behind a large set of drawers, I look over to see my team mate, in this game, crouched next to a large barrel. Jackson signals that he's moving to his right and that I should cover for him. Nodding once, I jump up and start to rapid fire colored rubber bands toward the opposing team who I can just barely see as they hide behind the colossal truck.

"Hi-ya!" I yell for no particular reason.

"Hi-ya? Are you confused about what we're doing, Torres?" Mark shouts as he ducks and returns fire.

"I know, I'm certainly confused about what the hell is going on out here." We all pause for a brief second as Webber stands in the middle of the battleground wearing a disapproving scowl.

Before anybody can react, Arizona comes speeding by on her Heelies, grabs the Captain and yanks him out of sight, while yelling, "I've got you, Sir!" We all hold our breath in disbelief as we hear Arizona exclaim, "Damn, that was close, but we're safe now, and I think we can take them."

A rumble of low and slightly nervous giggles erupt from the various hiding places of the mildly ashamed crew. There was no way the Captain would go along with our massive

Rubber band fight, in fact, we'd most likely get a boat load of extra chores for pulling something like this.

We all stay frozen in our spots, wondering what would happen next. As I glance at Jackson, who just shrugs, our eyes widen when we hear commotion. From behind the filing cabinets, Webber and Arizona come bursting out shooting like crazy people. They easily take out Jackson and Sloan, leaving Karev and I to form a new, silent alliance to take down the sudden power team.

"You might as well come out and surrender, you hairy-back Marys. You've got no chance." The Captain's calm and taunting voice echoes through the large garage. My mouth hangs open as I look over to Karev who mouths "Oh, hell, no," and motions for me to move in the direction of Arizona, while he moves toward Webber.

I nod and stealthily sleek around to come up from behind my fiancée. I take her by surprise, whirling her around, and capturing her lips in a searing kiss. I figure I can distract her long enough for Alex to take out the Captain. But, I guess I get a little too into the kiss, because I don't notice her teammate approach until I feel a flick on my forehead. I break our heated liplock and look up with hazy eyes, finally focusing on the Captain wearing a proud look.

"Nice try, Torres." As I growl in defeat, he suddenly exclaims, "Son of a bitch!"

When he spins on his spot, I see Karev behind him wearing smirk, "Yeah, I just shot you, Captain."

Too busy laughing at the look on Webber's face, I notice too late that Arizona has pulled away and is firing at Karev, hitting him square in the chest. "And, I just shot you. So, I believe that means we win." She smugly high fives Webber as we all groan at our humiliating loss.

"How did two people that weren't playing beat us?" Jackson whines.

"Because I'm awesome." Arizona quips, before glancing at the Captain's stern look and correcting, "We're awesome."

"Uh, huh." Webber hums, then looks around, "Alright, back to work."

We begin to shuffle to our work tasks and then release a rally of whoops as the alarm rings shrilly throughout the station. "That's a live one, ladies!" Sloan barks as we all dash to our gear.

As per usual, Arizona jumps on the rig before any of us, this time calling over her shoulder, "Last one on has to kiss Avery!" This sets us all in a fury of frantic movements to load up. I shove Mark out of the way to get on ahead of him, which forces him to push Karev against the truck so that he gets up first. This leaves Karev loading up right after Jackson.

"Pucker up, Karev!" I tease as Arizona pulls us out onto the street.

"I'll save it for later." Alex grumbles, settling next to a smirking Jackson, who is even kind enough to bat his eyelashes.

"Hey, why are we headed to East Seattle? There has to be closer stations." Arizona asks as she weaves through the heavy traffic.

"It's all hands on deck. It's a school." Sloan replies grimly, then begins to break it down.

We all listen closely with renewed attention and dedication now that we know a lot of kids' lives are on the line.

When we arrive at M. Davis Elementary School, the truck barely stops before we're leaping off and heading to the officer in charge. While Sloan speaks with the officer, I take a second to look around. The entire building is overrun with flames or smoke, completely obscuring any recognizable form. The area is swarming with emergency response teams, neighboring business people, passer-bys, and masses of worried teachers and parents. I swallow hard and hope like hell that all the kids made it out. This was one of those that could go very, very bad.

Sloan starts barking out orders, giving me parameter checks on the west side of the building. I immediately start off in a brisk jog to cover my area. When I get to my post I do a quick and thorough scan of the surrounding yard, and then carefully search each window and doorway for any signs of missed victims or potential dangers. My initial search does not reveal any immediate threat or urgent situation, so I continue to pace the length of the building, keeping an weary eye on the crumbling building.

A few minutes later, I see a brunette women streaking toward the looming flames. My eyes go wide at the sight and I sprint toward her. I manage to catch her just twenty feet from the raging inferno and restrain her from moving forward. The woman is slight and not particularly strong, but her current state of hysterics is making it near impossible to hang on to her. "Ma'am! Please, stop! You can not go in there!" I'm trying not to scream in her ear, but the strength it's taking to hold her back is causing my volume to escalate.

"I have to! She's in there! My baby, she's in there!" The woman is screeching back at me as she exerts a new wave of vigor into her struggle.

Summoning all my strength, I am able to pull her back several yards before I loosen my grip. "Listen, ma'am. You think your daughter is still in the building?" My voice is calm and supportive, hoping she'll slow down and trust me long enough to keep her safe and help her if she needs it.

"YES!" The woman yells and tries to run to the school again, but I yank her back.

"I can't let you go in there. Did you check with the police and all the kids that are out?" I ask as I reach for my radio.

"Yes, they don't know where she is. They said I'll have to wait until they get all the names in, but they're still waiting." The woman begins to sob uncontrollably and my heart leaps out to her.

"Ok, what's your name?" I ask while I talk into my radio. "Sloan, come in."

"Nancy." The woman mumbles as she stares in horror at the mass of ashes and flame that used to be a school.

"Go for Sloan."

"Torres here, get me the officer in charge of victims. Over."

"10-4."

"Nancy, ok, what is your daughter's name?" I've got a hand on her shoulder and am trying to speak in soothing tones, hoping to calm her down a little.

My radio crackles, "Officer Taylor for Firefighter Torres, come back."

"Sarah, her name is Sarah Jamenson."

I nod in understanding at the woman, "Copy Officer Taylor, this is Torres, do you have a 20 on a Sarah Jamenson?"

There's a brief pause before he speaks again, "Firefighter Torres, that's a negative on a Jamenson comma Sarah."

The woman wails despair as I glance back at the burning school, "Copy that."

"I have to get in there! She's deaf! She can't hear the sirens or firefighters calling out for her!" She makes another lunge away from me, but I hold her still.

I gulp, the fact that she's deaf definitely changes things. I turn to the woman, "Nancy, look at me." When her frightened eyes finally drift to mine, I ask, "Why are you trying to get to her here?"

Nancy trembles as she licks her lips and answers, "She has her free period now. She always spends it in the music lab." Seeing my slightly confused face, she continues, "She loves classical music, the vibrations that she can feel. So, she usually goes to the music lab with the computers with the best sound and headphones and listens to music. I'm sure that's where she is and that's on this side of the building."

Watching her closely, I see that she seriously thinks that's where her daughter is, and I can't help but believe that she might be right. Reaching for my radio, I call to Avery, "Avery, come back." As I watch the fire lick the school clean, I address the scared mother next to me, "I'm going to see if I can get someone to do another sweep of that area, but I need you to promise you're not going to try to go in there, again."

I can see her throat constrict and move as she swallows hard, but she eventually nods and crosses her arms tight over her chest.

"That's a go for Avery."

"Avery, what's your location?"

"Uh, second floor, west hall. Over."

"Status?"

"Unstable."

"Roger, stand by."

"Nancy, where exactly is the music lab?" I try to ask evenly but firm, knowing she's on the verge of shock.

"Uh…the, um, the second floor. R-room 215. I-I-think he's close." She stutters her response, clearly barely holding it together.

"Avery, room 215, status?"

"Accessible, barely."

"Copy, look out for girl, name Sarah, deaf. Intel suggests search of 215. Remember visual communication only."

"Roger, stand by."

"Ok, Nancy, I've got a very capable firefighter searching the area now. If she's there, he'll find her. If she's not there, I'll have him look around the room as well." She only nods in response as we stare forward, holding our breath for Avery's report.

What feels like hours pass before radio static pierces the oddly quiet air, "Torres, come back."

"Go for Torres." Nancy grips my sleeve in terror.

"Recovered blonde female, about 10, no speech, pink jacket, black pants."

With a glance to Nancy, who nods vigorously while sobbing, I call back through my hand set, "Copy that. Confirmed ID, 10-45?"

"10-45B."

"10-4. Can you reach the stairway in the corner?"

"Affirmative."

"Copy that. Over and out." Switching frequencies, I click the radio a few times, "Firefighter Torres requesting bus at North West corner of site. Over."

Nancy's shaky voice breaks my focus away for moment, "What's 10-45?"

"Roger, Torres, bus in route. Over."

"What's a 10-45 and 10-45B?" She demands again, getting even more anxious with uncertainly and trepidation.

I face her, while keeping an eye on the door leading to the stairway, "10-45 is the call code for a patient's or victim's status. 10-45B means that the status is serious." When I see her start to panic, I put my hands on both of her shoulders and meet her eyes, "Hey, you need to be strong now, ok. She needs you. A 'serious' status is less than critical, so she's going to be fine. I've called for an ambulance, which will be here by the time they get out, ok?"

Nancy bites her lip and gazes listlessly at the building. Suddenly, the wall bordering the west staircase begins to crumble, huge pieces of concrete and wood tumbling down, sending dust and ash swirling in the air, suffocating the scene in fog. "NOOOO!" Nancy screams as she watches the rubble consume the planned exit for her baby.

My heartbeat speeds up to dangerous levels as I realize that they might have been caught in that collapse. "Shit." Taking a fraction of a second to steady my voice, I grab my radio, "Avery, come back." No response. "Torres calling in structure collapse on the west side." Taking a breath, I try again, "Avery, come back." Again, no answer. Nancy slumps to the ground in a mess of tears and whimpers. "Avery, dammit!"

"Shit, Torres! I'm right here, stop yelling at me!" It takes a moment to realize that the voice didn't come from the radio gripped in my hand, but from somewhere in the smoke in front of me. Finally, I make out a form running through the destruction, a small girl curled up in his protective embrace, his arms covering her head and face.

"Sarah!" Nancy screams and bolts to her girl, grabbing her from Avery's arms and rocking her.

"She's unconscious, with some lacerations and bruising, but I think she'll be ok." He pants to me and Nancy just as the ambulance comes into view.

When the girl and her mom are loaded up, Nancy turning back to whisper, "Thank you," to me, I hit the back twice and they take off.

I turn back to Avery, "Cutting it a little close, weren't you?"

"Yeah, yeah. You're welcome." He says sarcastically as he heads back toward the building to find another way in, to continue his sweep.

As I watch him climb in through a window, I click on my radio, "Avery, come in."

"What now?"

"You're a stud."

"Copy that."

Chuckling, I return to my previous mission of securing the parameter.

Hours later, we all climb up onto the rig, completely spent. It was a tough job. However, by some miracle, there were no casualties. Every single teacher, staff member, and child is accounted for, and none of them are dead. There are some critical cases and many serious injuries, but so far every person made it out alive. That's a freakin' win if I ever saw one. When Arizona pulls herself up into the driver's seat, I sidle up behind her, whispering in her ear, "Hey, speed racer, how you doin'?"

"All good. You?" She answers with a grin.

"All good." I kiss her temple. "Take us home so I can take you to bed." Her dimples pop as she nods and sends me a wink. With one last kiss to her jaw, I lean back so she can focus on driving.

On the way back to the station, we're all having a lively debate about who was the most bad ass during this fire. It's stupid, and none of us really believe anyone is better than anyone else. We're a team. We win and lose as one, and every person is a hero every time. But, it's fun to harass each other.

"Hey, hey. I pulled a deaf girl through the fire and a collapsing wall to safety. I am definitely the most bad ass of ya'll." Jackson says matter-of-factly while reclining back against the equipment.

We all take a moment and look from one to another, each waiting for someone else to top that. I shrug and everybody laughs heartily as we acquiesce our victories to him. It's during this laughter that Arizona's sharp gasp cuts through the joy and assaults our ears a half a second before the truck lurches viciously to the left and tires squeal in protest. I vaguely register a young boy in the road picking up his stray ball right in front of where our truck was supposed to be a second ago. We all feel the rig wobble and twist in a way that it never should. My eyes widen as I realize what is about to happen. My gaze meets Arizona's through the mirror as the truck skids into the ditch on the side of the country road and flips violently several times. My last conscious thought is a flash of Arizona in a beautiful white gown and then everything goes black.

AN: Well? What did you think?