A House Divided – Chet's Cataclysm
Chapter 2
Warning: language
Marco stood leaning against the refrigerator as he, Mike and Roy enjoyed their first morning cup of coffee amid an entertaining discussion of Joanne's lack of ability to parallel park. He looked up at the gruff grumbling sound of his partner entering the kitchen; the Irishman's obvious disgust displayed on his tired features.
"Morning, Chet," Marco offered as Mike hid his snickering face from Roy who continued with his tale; both men oblivious to Chet's mood.
"Mmnn."
Marco grimaced at the response he received to his usual morning greeting. He'd been noticing Chet's frequent bouts of somberness and although he had repeatedly tried, so far he'd been unable to find out what had instigated Chet's descent into despondency.
"Roy, you really need to put a muzzle on Gage," Chet began, rudely interrupting the conversation at the table as he poured himself a cup of coffee.
Roy looked up with a hint of sarcasm in his voice, "Yea, I get that a lot from the nurses at Rampart."
He and Mike shared a chuckle at his retort before he realized that Chet was not kidding around. "Ok, what's he done to you, Kelly?" He leaned back in his chair turning to commiserate with the lineman.
Chet leaned back against the counter blowing a cooling breath across his steaming cup. "He just needs to mind his own business before I…"
"Roll call," Hank announced, sticking his head in the kitchen doorway.
The scraping sound of chairs on the floor permeated the room as Mike and Roy stood up leading their linemen out the door in response to their captain's command. They lined up facing Hank with Johnny on one end and Chet at the opposite end of the line, the latter man feeling his nostrils flaring as he thought about his so called friend complaining to Captain Stanley about him.
Hank dutifully ran through his list of announcements ending with the assignment of chores.
"Mike, apparatus bay. Marco dayroom. Roy dorms. Johnny kitchen…please cook something besides hotdogs…and Chet, latrines. Ok, let's have a safe shift."
The men broke formation heading toward their respective chores. Roy and Johnny stopped at the squad; for them, morning checks and calibrations came before any chores.
Chet turned toward the latrine, hands in his pockets and shoulders sagging as though the weight of the world were resting on his back. Before he made another step, he heard the deep rumble of Hank's voice near him.
"Chet, I'd like to see you in my office before you get started, Pal."
Chet turned in the direction of his captain but his eyes were shooting flaming daggers at the thin paramedic who stood pulling the drug and IV boxes out of their compartments. He could tell that Johnny was deliberately avoiding looking at him and he refused to allow him any form of comfort with the deed; Chet's eyes stared at Johnny, unblinking as he walked slowly to the captain's office, then closed the door behind him.
Roy pulled out the orange biophone, noticing the worry creases on his partner's face. While Johnny began counting supplies in the IV box, he verified that the biophone was functioning properly by contacting the base station at Rampart General Hospital. Once that task was completed and the biophone returned to its compartment, he and Johnny kneeled down beside the passenger's side door of the squad and began counting out their drug supplies.
Roy quickly realized that Johnny wasn't saying any more than was necessary to complete the checks. His eyes darted back and forth as he watched the younger man count the same handful of syringes two times without realizing it. When his partner reached in picking up the same group of syringes for the third time, Roy grabbed him by the wrist.
"Johnny…you've already counted them," he said.
Johnny looked up, puzzlement shadowing his thin features. "You sure?"
"Yea…twice already," Roy said, gently guiding Johnny's hand back to the section of the box where the syringes were stored. "What's wrong?"
Johnny leaned a forearm on his raised knee, squinting at the closed captain's door. He already knew how Roy felt about his desire to intervene where Chet was concerned. He didn't want to hear another lecture from the senior medic about how it was none of his business. However, as usual, his expressions spoke for him giving him away.
Roy shook his head in frustration. "Damn it, Johnny…you did it, didn't you?"
"I did something to try to help him…if that's what you mean."
Roy's face reddened as he looked away for a moment. When he felt that he'd regained his composure, he turned back to his partner. "You can't run to Cap like a little kid who got pushed down on the playground."
Johnny held his breath and bit the inside of his lower lip to keep from saying something he might regret later. When he tasted blood, he loosened his bite and inhaled very slowly. "Roy…I'm not actin' like some little kid and this sure as hell isn't some playground." He opened his arms up wide looking around the inside of the station. "This is Kelly we're talkin' about here…our friend…our coworker..."
"A grown man," Roy interjected. "A grown man who might have had a little too much to drink last night but he's still an adult who's at work on time and ready to haul a hose if the tones sound."
"He might've?" Johnny's snort of exasperation did nothing to dampen his partner's anger.
"What? You think he's not fit for duty? That's Cap'n Stanley's call…not yours!" Roy's voice rose a little louder than he'd intended and he suddenly realized that he was pointing a finger at his partner's chest.
"Well whose call will it be when his 'fatigue'," Johnny said making quotation marks in the air, "gets Marco hurt or…or one of us 'cause we hadta go in and drag his ass out? Or worse…what if a victim…"
Roy rubbed his forehead with his fingers, beads of perspiration popping out above his lip and brow. He had to stop Johnny's rant before the younger man popped the vein that was suddenly bulging near his temple. "Stop it, Johnny…just stop it!"
The shock of hearing his long-time partner and friend yell at him in anger immediately sealed Johnny's lips and halted his train of thought. He stared at Roy in disbelief, willing his vocal chords to respond appropriately. But before he could find his voice, Roy spoke up.
"Now what you did was wrong and you know it. You interfered with Chet's life and now you've given Cap cause to worry about one of us and he's got enough on his mind with all his responsibilities. You don't even realize what you've done…do you?"
Johnny slammed the black lid closed on the drug box, staring at his partner as he clicked the locks in place. "I tried to help him," he said through clenched teeth standing up with a firm grip on the box, "same thing I'd want somebody to do for me."
Roy once again grabbed the younger man by the wrist jerking his arm as he pulled the box back down onto the concrete floor, aware that they had not completed the inventory. "We're not finished yet."
Johnny didn't understand the nonchalant attitude Roy was displaying regarding their shift mate. His anger was beginning to surface and try as he might he was struggling to control it. "Oh, we're finished Roy…believe me," he growled dropping the black box for Roy to finish counting and backing up with both hands raised at shoulder level, palms facing his partner, "we're finished."
Roy shook his head and released a breath as he watched his partner, his friend, storm away from him. He didn't like being at odds with Johnny but he just couldn't agree with the younger man on this particular decision. He returned to the box on the floor, clicking it open and finishing the inventory; he hoped Johnny would realize what he'd done and apologize to Chet before the rift he'd caused became a chasm.
Johnny shoved his way through the kitchen door, determination and anger battling for dominance within his soul. What's happened to you, Roy? Has the job made you so callused you can't even see when your station brother is in trouble? He slammed the drain stopper into the sink then turned on the hot water. He dispensed more dishwashing liquid than was necessary into the warm water then yanked a dishcloth from its place in the drawer. He stepped back for a moment leaning both hands against the cabinet and jutting one hip out as his head sank down. The steam from the hot running water rose from the sink creating a wave of heat drifting in his direction. He continued to stare at the floor waiting for the sink to fill when a soft hand on his shoulder caused him to lift his head.
Marco had quietly witnessed the exchange between the paramedics and that along with Chet's earlier comment about the muzzle had put together the puzzle pieces creating the image he saw standing before the sink. He poured out the remnants of a couple of coffee cups, placing them into the sudsy water and turned off the faucet before placing a reassuring hand on Johnny's shoulder.
"I'm worried about him too," he said softly, looking around to make sure the man about whom he spoke was not in the room.
Johnny looked up, raising an arching eyebrow in silent question. "You are?"
Marco pressed his lips together, the thin line nearly disappearing beneath his dark mustache. "Yes…I see it too." He released his hand from Johnny's shoulder as the younger man stood more erect at hearing that he was not alone in his concern.
"Then…why haven't you talked to him?"
Marco felt the sting from Johnny's words but realized that his agitation was at the situation, not Marco. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the counter. "John…I've tried, I swear I have but…he just denies anything's going on?"
Johnny blew out a breath, turning his face towards the ceiling briefly as he allowed his body to relax slightly. He felt relief in knowing that he was not the only person on A-shift that was sensing Chet's self-destruction. He then continued the conversation Marco had started. "I'm sorry, man. I..ah…I just got Roy naggin' me about stayin' out of it and," he huffed again searching for the right words. "Makes me kinda worry that I'm wrong but, Marco…I…I think he's drinkin'…a lot."
Marco reached into the water and began washing the few dishes that were soaking. "Most all firemen drink, Johnny."
"Yea…but, they don't come to work lookin' like shit," he pointed a thin hand in the direction of the apparatus bay, "and he has been…for a while now." Johnny suddenly felt like perhaps Marco wasn't seeing the same things he was seeing after all.
Marco rinsed the coffee cups then left them in the drain to dry. "Exactly, Gage." He reached over turning off the water before looking back at the paramedic, "I agree with you….but I think we're the only ones seeing it."
Johnny was glad that someone else believed him. His brown eyes darted back and forth between Marco's dark ones as he processed the information Marco had just given him. "Mike?"
Marco shook his head negatively, "nope…said Chet just looked like he was over doing it when he was off."
"Yea," Johnny huffed, his voice laced with sarcasm, "he's over doin' it a'right." He wanted to discuss this further with Marco but the sound of the tones calling out the squad interrupted their conversation. "Later?" he asked with raised eyebrows and was rewarded with an affirmative nod as Marco returned to the sink to finish the task the two of them had started.
E!
"Have a seat, Chet." Hank motioned for the lineman to sit down in the chair as he propped a hip on the corner of his desk. He wanted to put a bit of pressure on the younger man by forcing him to look up to his superior.
Chet, however, refused to play Hank's mind game and decided to sit with his elbows propped on the arms of the chair and his ankles crossed beneath it. His eyes gazed downward into his lap. He was obviously expecting a thorough racking over the coals and was mentally preparing himself for it.
Hank allowed the silence between them to work its magic and watched as his subordinate began twitching his feet and stretching his fingers in obvious anticipation. After allowing the emotional torture to go on a few more moments, he finally spoke. "Chet…I'm worried about you."
"What for, Cap? I'm fine."
"Mmm hmmm, well…you don't look fine, Pal." He stared at the top of his curly haired head as the Irishman continued staring at his own lap.
"Gage doesn't know what the hell he's talkin' about and he needs to mind his own damn business."
Hank turned a little more in Chet's direction knowing that if he could make the man feel a little more defensive then he just might let something spill out in their conversation. "So…you think I called you in here because Johnny talked to me?"
Hank's tactic worked sooner than he had anticipated.
Chet's red-rimmed blue eyes looked up into the face of his captain. "I know he did…I saw him walkin' outta your office before roll call and I also heard Gage and DeSoto talkin' about me earlier."
"Aahh, so…you're pissed at both our paramedics…is that it?" Hank was a bit surprised by how easily Chet's line of thinking could be manipulated.
Chet began to relax a little, leaning back in the chair. "Nope…just that stupid nosy-ass, Gage."
"But I thought you said you'd heard both of them talking about you earlier?" Hank knew exactly what had happened earlier, having been filled in during his conversation with Johnny, and he also knew what the young lineman had meant but he was still trying to get him a bit riled up.
"I did…but it was Gage who was doing the talking…Roy was just defending me."
"Defending you how? What have you done to need defending?"
Chet's hand flew quickly to his chest at Hank's last comment. "I haven't done a thing wrong but Gage thinks I'm not fit for duty or something…hell, I don't know, Cap…you're the one he talked to so why don't you tell me…"
Hank crossed his arms over his chest but held one hand up in an effort to get Chet to lower his tone of voice. "What makes you think John thinks you aren't fit for duty? He never said anything like that to me?"
"Oh yea…well then what did he say?" The smirk on Chet's face was unmistakable.
"Kelly, you know that when one of my men comes to me to discuss something in confidence, I don't talk about it to the rest of you." Hank was hoping that his comments were sinking in with his younger lineman. He desperately wanted Chet to know that if he was in some kind of trouble that he could always count on Hank to help him.
"This is bullshit," Chet mumbled under his breath. "Cap, am I in trouble or not?"
"Have you done something to be in trouble for?" Hank threw his question back at him.
"No sir. I'm a little tired because I've been helping my landlady with some work on my off days…that's all."
Hank was torn between the two differing accounts of why Chet looked so ragged lately. He was about to continue the conversation when the tones sounded.
Chet silently thanked every known deity for calling out the station. He jumped up, only to realize that the tones were for the squad only.
"Sit back down, Chet," Hank said rather sternly. "Now, I'm only going to ask you this once so I expect an honest answer." He waited for Chet to look up and nod his agreement before he continued. "If Johnny came to me out of concern for you…could you still work with him? I need to know if my team is still intact because the lives of innocent civilians, and in fact, all our lives depend on it."
Chet locked eyes with Hank and saw the absolute sincerity in the man's face. He gulped before taking a deep breath and answering his superior as honestly as he knew how. "Sir…if Johnny came to you out of concern about me then…yes, I can still work with him. Your team is still intact, as you say."
Hank's smile sent a wave of relief through the still angry lineman. He stood up from his perch on the corner of his desk and clapped his hands together, rubbing them briskly. "Well then…just remember, I'm here for you if you need me…any time day or night, on shift or off."
"Yes sir, thank you." Chet said standing as Hank patted him on the shoulder. He extended his hand and was relieved by the firm handshake the two men shared. He opened the door and walked out telling himself that he had not just lied to his captain. If he believed Johnny was concerned about him then he'd be grateful for the friendship…but his insecurities were telling him that Johnny was neither concerned for his welfare nor his friend….at least, not anymore.
E!
A/N: Thank you all for reading this and especially for taking the time to review.