Well, this it, THE FINAL CHAPTER! I must say that I am pretty proud of this story and how it turned out...and I hope you'll all like the end...I know I do. I decided to leave you hanging for a few more paragraphs...this chapter picks up three months AFTER the last chapter. It just worked out that way. ;]
Thanks to all of my readers and reviewers. Without you guys this story would have never flourished the way that it has!
Chapter 9:
THREE MONTHS LATER:
Friday night had been pretty hectic, as usual, but the sunny Saturday morning had been pleasantly tranquil. All the men were quite, probably just tired, but it was a peaceful kind of quiet. Captain Stanley was in his office filling out paperwork, Mike Stoker was cleaning the last of the dirt off of Big Red, and Chet Kelly mopped the dorm while Marco Lopez worked on lunch. It was a little after noon, Marco called the crew to lunch, "Chow's up!"
The crew of Truck 51 shuffled towards the common room, and Marco's chili, just as the garage door rattled open to reveal the rear of the squad. The paramedics had been called out an hour earlier on a 'child having difficult breathing' call.
"How'd it go?" Chet asked as Roy put the squad in park and shutting off the engine.
"Fine," Roy said.
"Little girl's allergic to cats. Babysitter's a cat lover. You can imagine how that went," Johnny supplied, running his hand through his hair, "I'm starved. What's for lunch? Chili?"
"Again," Mike muttered.
Marco looked offended, "What's wrong with chili? It's my mamá's recipe and she's always told me that chili is a staple of any diet-"
"Umm, hello?" a female voice from the rec room, followed closely by the first whiff of something burning, "I think your chili is done."
Turning around, the firemen instantly followed their noses to the stove, momentarily bypassing the two women standing by the door. "Well, there goes lunch," Johnny said dejectedly as Mike grabbed two pot holders and pulled the burning chili off the stove and let Chet fill the pot up with water. Marco muttered something in Spanish and turned off the stove.
"This happen a lot around here?" The woman's voice attracted the firefighters attention. For a moment, they seemed unfamiliar, but the sarcastic edge of her tugged at John's memories.
"Abel! Chrysler!"
The two women were out of uniform, but looking totally at ease in Station 51. Julie Chrysler's brown hair looked longer, and dressed in a skirt and blouse, she looked more like a tall businesswoman than a firefighter. Liz Abel was even more of a transformation. A pair of sunglasses perched on the top of her new-penny red hair which was a lot longer than her ponytail had let on. She was dressed like she had just come in from the beach, a long bright blue patterned cover-up type dress and freshly sunburned shoulders.
"What are you guys doing here?" Roy asked, reaching out to shake Chrysler's hand.
"Saving you guys from the embarrassment of your station burning to the ground," Abel cut in, smiling genuinely but still sounding rather sarcastic.
Johnny rolled his eyes, "We were doin' just fine."
"I could tell," Abel said, one hand on her hip, the other fanning away the traces of smoke in the air.
"Well, the chili may not be edible," Marco announced to the women, saving John from getting himself into something that he might regret, "but there's plenty of salad and stuff to make sandwiches. If you don't mind waiting, you're welcome to stay for lunch."
They exchanged a glance, "I think we can manage that," Chrysler said. Abel nodded in agreement.
"Coffee?" Roy asked, motioning to the pot as he poured himself a cup.
Abel nodded, but Chrysler waved the coffee away, "Not for either of us. Coffee does strange things to her."
"What are you talking about?" Abel cast a glance at her partner.
"You've had your cup for the day. Any more than that you'll be wired for the next three days."
Abel snorted, "That's not true at all."
"Why can I picture it being true?" Johnny snorted.
"When did you join this conversation?" Abel shot back, eyes narrowed.
Roy cleared his throat as he and Johnny took a seat at the table, motioning for Abel and Chrysler to join them, "How's the wrist?"
Abel shrugged, holding her hand up. It looked a lot better than the last time the paramedics had seen it; all the broken fingers had set straight and aside from a small scar, the wrist looked almost normal. "Not half bad. Got the cast off three weeks ago and been doing some physical therapy to get it back up to snuff."
"No serious residual effects-?"
"Of our wild descent?" Abel shrugged again, "I had a stiff neck for a while, and a hell of a collection of bruises, but nothing I can't handle. Been working in administration for the department though," she rolled her eyes, "and I'm going stark raving mad. Three more weeks then I'm back on the engine."
"How's the guy from 123…Cutler?"
"Well, since it turned out that his ankle was fractured rather than just sprained, he was out for almost been two months. Working with Abel in administration...lucky for him he's back on the truck now," Chrysler supplied.
"Lucky's right. Another day and I would have made sure that his limp was permanent," Abel muttered.
There was a momentary lull in conversation as Roy sipped his coffee and Johnny did his best not to stare at either woman. "You never did say why you were in Los Angeles," John finally came up with, "it's a long way from your home."
"Well, we had some things to work out," Chrysler glanced at Abel, "and someone wanted to go to the beach."
"Forget your sunscreen?" Johnny cracked, smiling widely.
Abel was not smiling. But before she could hand Johnny his head, Chrysler continued, "We also wanted to come by here and tell you guys the news."
"News?" all heads turned towards the two women.
Chrysler was smiling broadly now, and so was Abel, after she shot one last poisonous look at Johnny. "We are officially enrolled in the paramedic program. Effective the first of the year, we transfer down here and start classes."
"That's great!" Roy said, his face mimicking Chrysler's. The rest of the crew made similar comments, and Johnny winked at Abel through the noise, "If you're gonna be a paramedic, you're going to have to work on your bedside manner-"
"I still have one good hand," Abel warned.
"I think you two will make great paramedics," Roy said loudly, saving his partner from getting his butt kicked.
"Well, working with you two during the fire really sparked our interest," Chrysler explained, "No pun intended."
"Your interest," Abel interjected, "I just didn't want you to come down here and get eaten alive by all the sexist pigs-"
"Ignore her. She was just as excited about this as I was."
Abel made a face, "Well, I do like the idea of being Kings County's first women paramedics."
"If you pass the classes," Johnny replied, smiling.
Before Abel had a chance to reply, the peal of the siren summoning Station 51 to a factory fire cut her off. All eight firefighters leapt to their feet, "Guess we'll see you later," Roy called, pausing with his partner and the two women after the truck crew disappeared through the door.
"Hopefully soon," Julie Chrysler agreed. She hesitated for a second before reaching out and giving Roy a quick hug, "Thanks for the inspiration."
Roy smiled back, "Not a problem."
Johnny moved to follow his partner out of the door, waving at Chrysler, but an iron grip stopped him, "Wha-"
Abel reached up and panted a quick kiss on Johnny's tan cheek, "Thanks for everything. You're not as much of a pig as I expected...in fact, I actually kind of liked working with you. "
"Thanks," he grinned as Abel pushed him out the door, "See you around?"
"Maybe!"
It wasn't until he and Roy had dropped off their patients at Rampart and were picking up more supplies that Johnny reached into his pocket in search of a pen. The first thing he found was a slip of paper with a phone number on it and the initials L.A. signed in the bottom.
"What's that?" Roy asked, glancing at his partner's shocked face.
"Doppelgänger," Johnny whispered.
"What?"
"It's Liz Abel's phone number."
"Wow, she actually gave it to you?"
Johnny ignored the sarcasm, "I left my number on top of her wallet…and I initialed it the same way."
"Why are you complaining that you got her number at all?" Roy asked, hefting the box of supplies.
"I'm not…it's just that we did almost the exact same thing-"
"Squad 51, possible heart attack, 234 Hamilton Way, cross street Maiden. 2-3-4 Hamilton. Time out 15:44."
Johnny started to complete his sentence, but Roy handed him the box of supplies, "Save it," He grabbed the handy talkie, "Squad 51, ten-four."
The End...for now?
~S