Warning: strong language

A House Divided – Chet's Cataclysm

Chapter 9

Johnny exited the men's restroom, looking around for Roy or Chet. Seeing neither, he wandered slowly out the emergency entrance and leaned over the side railing, forearms holding his weight with hands clasped together in front of him. He stared unseeing at the concrete as the night air whisked his bangs in front of his dark eyes; his mind taking him back to the scene where he watched Chet carry the fatally injured man from the burning structure. Earlier in the shift, he had thought the lineman had lacked the ability to perform the task and yet Johnny himself had witnessed it. Doubt began to creep up behind him surrounding him like a cold heavy fog and he wondered if perhaps he and Marco had been wrong.

Before he became too deeply cloaked in skepticism, he heard the distinctive sound of an engine pulling into the parking lot. Looking up, his heart sank into his shoes; the insignia on the door identified the engine as belonging to Station 36.

"Aww, hell," he whispered into the night realizing that the task of informing the men from 36's about the loss of their paramedic might be falling squarely on his shoulders. He straightened up his back turning to face Captain O'Conner when a warm hand tightly gripped his tense shoulder.

"I've got this, Johnny."

Johnny turned to his side just as the blur of Dr. Early's white coat passed by him heading into the parking lot to meet the arriving crew. He watched as Squad 36 pulled up beside her big sister and he felt like his heart stopped beating. The realization that there was one L.A. County Fire Department paramedic who had responded to his final alarm causing him more distress than he had anticipated. He also knew that the partner of the deceased was not yet out of danger.

Johnny saw the white striped helmet of Captain O'Conner move hurriedly around the front of the engine as the engineer and one lineman stepped down. The second lineman exited the squad and joined them forming a semicircle around the gray haired physician. Johnny pinched the bridge of his nose in a losing battle with his emotions just as he saw the Captain, flanked by two of his men, lose his ability to stand and was gently eased to a sitting position on the tailboard of Engine 36.

"Sonofa…," Johnny never completed the softly spoken swear as he jogged over to assist the grief stricken captain. For a moment, it wasn't Captain O'Conner he was watching collapse but another more familiar face with dark hair peeking from beneath the edges of the officer's helmet. His arrival was met with a sympathetic look of appreciation from Dr. Early and Johnny was grateful that the older man had thought to meet the crew in the parking lot where there was more privacy than inside the bustling emergency department. He made a mental note to thank him later on.

"Again, I'm very sorry… the trauma to Mr. Carrigan's brain was just too much for him to survive," Dr. Early's blue eyes quickly scanned the soot covered and now tear streaked faces of the firemen. This was the part of his job he hated most. "As soon as I know something from the surgical unit, I'll find you and give you an update on Mr. Jacob's condition." Dr. Early took a step backwards in the direction of the emergency room. He had worked with firefighters long enough to know that the strength they would draw from each other was far superior to what he or anyone else outside the brotherhood could offer at this time. He briefly locked eyes with Johnny and the paramedic understood the unspoken message.

Johnny would make sure that no one left the hospital in questionable condition and he would stay with the grief-stricken crew while they waited for the chief. Johnny squeezed the shoulder of the lineman standing beside him and felt the other man shift his weight leaning against their engine for support.

"Th…ahem," Johnny cleared his throat trying to find his words so he could speak for the others he knew were unable to speak for themselves at the moment. "Thanks, Doc."

Dr. Early nodded his head taking a few slow steps backwards. He watched the semicircle of men close around Captain O'Conner and finally felt that he could return to the hospital and hopefully bring better news out to this group soon. He blew out his cheeks, lowering his head watching his own footfalls across the asphalt parking lot carrying him back to the hospital. He heard the sound of a car door closing nearby and turned his head to his right in time to see Chief Houts stepping over to his men, his feet seemingly made of lead. Hardest part of your job too isn't it, Chief?

E!

Inside Rampart, Roy stood back leaning against the metal supply cabinet in the examination room watching Sally push the tray over to Chet's legs.

"Need any help, Doc?"

"Um, if you don't mind, would you get a set of vitals for me Mr…." The new intern suddenly realized he didn't know the name of the paramedic who had just offered his services.

"DeSoto, Roy DeSoto. I'm a paramedic out of Station 51 with Chet," he offered, moving toward Chet's upper body. "Let's get you leaned down and let you relax," Roy said, trying to encourage Chet to look at him.

Chet allowed Roy to help him remove his turnout coat but he never looked into Roy's eyes. He leaned back as the head of the exam table was lowered noticing that the throbbing pain in his foot seemed to be getting worse. He felt the tightening of the blood pressure cuff then the familiar hissing sound as Roy released the bulb. Next, his wrist was grasped between Roy's fingers and he couldn't help but think how the paramedic's touch felt very different than he had imagined Sally's delicate fingers might feel wrapped around his wrist. He closed his eyes, not caring to watch what the doctor was doing to his foot when he suddenly jumped as Roy placed an open palm along his upper abdomen to count his respirations.

"Settle down, Chet. You're gonna be alright," Roy said, deliberately watching the lineman's face to see how he reacted.

"I know…ya just…kinda startled me is all," he responded, eyes remaining closed.

"BP 150/88, pulse 84, respirations 22." Roy leaned against the exam table staring down at his friend trying to decide what was causing his elevated vitals. Is it the pain… grief over losing Carrigan… or fear about what you're doing, buddy?

"Mr. Kelly, I'm going to probe a little to see how deep this cut is but you let me know if it's too painful."

"Ok," Chet replied.

"Sally, I need some saline to irrigate the wound," Dr. Harrison requested.

Roy watched Sally remove the requested items from the cabinet. "Try taking some slow deep breaths, Chet." Roy was hoping to offer a bit of comfort to the man even though he was fighting his own anger. He decided to reserve his judgment for a time when they were alone.

"Aaauuhg, Doc?"

Dr. Harrison looked up at the contorted face of his patient. "Alright, the wound is deep enough for sutures. How long ago did this happen?"

Roy wanted to give the doctor a thumb's up sign for asking the question that he too wanted to hear the answer to. He watched Chet carefully as they waited for a response.

"Uh…I dunno, maybe a couple of hours? Does it matter?"

Roy leaned down closer to Chet's head to make sure his next words were understood. "Yea…it matters. It matters a lot."

Dr. Harrison couldn't help but over hear the exchange between the two friends but chose to move on to his next question. "Ok, when was your last tetanus shot?"

Chet finally opened his eyes but stared straight up at the white institutional ceiling squares. "About a year, I think."

Sally was already one step ahead of him, thumbing through his chart. "Looks like about a year and a half ago."

"Alright, that's recent enough. Let's go ahead and get him numbed up, Sally, and I'll need a suture kit too." He turned his face back in Chet's direction. "Mr. Kelly, I'm going to inject you with something to numb the area before I do anything else."

"Ok, thanks."

Dr. Harrison carefully cleaned the area around the wound then reached for the syringe from Sally. "Ok, this is going to sting a little but then it'll numb up fairly quickly…and don't worry, I won't be probing any more until I know you can't feel it."

"Ugh..ahh," Chet grunted, his face turning red as the anesthetic was injected. "Fu…," he bit his tongue to stop the foul word from escaping his lips as the second injection was made. He looked pleadingly at Sally who gave him a quick wink. He released his breath knowing that his effort at self-restraint had been appreciated.

"Ok, Mr. Kelly," Dr. Harrison began stepping around closer to Chet's head, "I'll let this work for a few minutes then I'll be back and finish cleaning deeper just to make sure there's no debris lodged in the wound then I'll stitch you up and let you go home. You won't be able to finish your shift."

"Kinda figured as much," Chet said with a sense of relief. "When do you think I can go back?"

Roy fought the urge to roll his eyes, deciding to cross his arms in front of his chest instead. Chet's behavior was frustrating him more than the Phantom's pranks ever had and yet there was still something worrying him. He was quietly trying to decide how and when to approach the subject of Chet's deceit when an idea suddenly came to him. He waited for the doctor to answer Chet's question before he gave his own response.

"Well, I'll have to see how well you heal but considering the nature of your job, I'd say two weeks barring any complications." He waited for his patient to acknowledge he understood. When he saw Chet's head nod, he continued. "I've got to go check on another patient but I'll be back in a few minutes to finish up in here."

"Doc?" Roy called out catching the attention of the young physician. "If you want me to, I can go by his apartment to change his dressings…I mean, it'll be difficult for him to drive so if it would help then I don't mind."

Chet wanted to scream his opposition but couldn't find any valid reason to decline the offer.

"Well, that sounds like an excellent idea, Mr. DeSoto."

"Oh, you can just call me Roy," the paramedic said with a grin. His plan was taking shape and he knew Chet was in no position to fight it.

"We'll make sure we send Mr. Kelly home with enough supplies for a few dressing changes," he said then turned to face his patient. "You have a great friend here, Mr. Kelly. Not everyone has friends to help them out during times like this." He pushed open the door with a smile not realizing the fuel he'd just thrown on a smoldering ember.

"Yea…thanks, Roy." Chet knew he should be grateful but he had only planned on seeing one person during his recuperation period and it definitely wasn't one of his coworkers.

"Mr. Kelly, is there anything you need? Are you comfortable?"

Chet looked over at the pretty face of his nurse. "Uh…could I have some water please?" He hadn't taken the time to rehydrate and he was beginning to feel the effects.

"Of course, I'll be right back."

Roy waited until Sally had left then returned to Chet's side and began wrapping the blood pressure cuff around Chet's upper arm and returned his stethoscope to his ears.

"Hey…watcha doin' that for?"

Roy continued his ministrations without answering the question until he'd counted Chet's respirations. "Your vitals were elevated. I was just seeing if they were normalizing any."

"Well, are they?"

"Your respirations are down to 16 but your pulse rate and BP are still high." Roy waited for a response from Chet but noticed that the lineman didn't seem very concerned.

"Figures."

Roy knitted his eyebrows together in confusion. "I don't understand, Chet. Is something going on?"

"Noooo, of course not," Chet's voice spouted with sarcasm. "I mean, just because I've gotta get my foot stitched up, gonna be outta work for a couple of weeks, failed at a rescue and let a fellow firefighter die; not the first thing I failed at on this job, not to mention my old man…...shit," he moaned, lowering his voice and turning his head away from Roy. He realized that he had almost revealed more than he'd intended to during his rant.

"Chet…," Roy wasn't sure how to continue. "You…ah, you didn't let Carrigan die. He had a head injury. You couldn't save him…no one could." Roy's anger was temporarily abating as he listened to the emotional pain his friend was trying so desperately to mask but little did he know that it was about to return with a vengence.

"Don't try to make me feel better…he's dead…I didn't get to him in time…just another screw up on my part…end of story."

Roy stared at the man lying on the exam table realizing that there was indeed something else dragging Chet down. What do I have to do to get through to you, Kelly? He turned to look behind him, noting that there seemed to be the usual activity going on in the corridor. He didn't hear the voices of Sally or Dr. Harrison so he decided to go ahead and at least begin the conversation he was planning on having in the morning at Chet's apartment.

"I know how it feels when you lose a victim and it does feel like you failed somehow but Chet…you didn't fail…the initial blast from the backdraft did the damage." Roy was warring within himself; part of him wanting to reach out to his friend and the other part wanting to shake him by the shirt collar.

"Don't patronize me, Roy. You have no idea how I feel or what I'm going through."

Roy placed both hands on the exam table and leaned over it slightly; his anger once again dominating the emotional tug-of-war within his soul. He could tell that Chet's respirations were increasing again and although he didn't want to cause the injured man any further duress, he did need to get him to realize the risk he was taking. "Chet, I don't know what's going on here but you and I both know that you did NOT cut your foot at that fire a little while ago. Now don't be stupid with this injury and cause yourself some major problems."

Chet felt like Roy could see his heart pounding in his chest. His breathing hitched and he tried to swallow back the rage that was beginning to surface. He could sense Roy's presence hovering over him in a smothering manner. The situation was further drying out his already parched throat causing his tongue to stick to his teeth; the taste of the smoke from the deadly blaze still coating the inside of his mouth. He wasn't sure if Roy meant that he would cause himself major health problems or major career problems but at this particular moment, he didn't care about either.

"Oh yea? Well when did you become a damn doctor? You're just a paramedic," Chet growled.

Roy could feel his jaw muscles clenching and releasing as he fought the urge to strangle the lineman. "It doesn't take a doctor to see when someone's faking an injury." He watched Chet's adam's apple move knowing he was swallowing back his nervousness. "There's a hole in your boot and a hole in your foot…so why isn't there a hole in your sock, huh?" He watched Chet's lips press together tightly and knew his words had hit their mark. "Paramedic's pay attention to little details like that…sshole."

Chet rolled his head back over to his left staring straight into the crystal blue eyes of Roy DeSoto and in a low gravelly voice through clinched teeth he spat out, "Go to hell!"

Roy felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up and a wave of heat wash over him. He opened his mouth to respond just as the door opened and Sally walked in holding a mustard colored pitcher of ice water with a small matching plastic cup. "Here you go, Mr. Kelly…thought you might be really thirsty so I brought you a full pitcher." She filled the small cup with water and passed it to him.

"Thanks…and you can call me Chet. Mr. Kelly is…well, you can call me Chet."

Roy wiped the beads of sweat from his upper lip with the back of his hand as he listened to the conversation but it was Chet's hands that really captured his attention. Roy's first instinct was to help him hold the cup so that his shaking hand wouldn't spill the water he needed to wet his parched throat but Chet's stinging words were still slapping Roy in the face over and over again. Instead of helping his friend, he backed up closer to the door. He looked from Chet to Sally and then back at Chet. "I'm gonna go call Cap and let him know that he needs to call in a replacement."

Roy grabbed the handy talkie from the metal cabinet as he opened up the door and headed to the empty nurse's desk. He thought about his own vital signs being elevated from his encounter with Chet and he leaned against the desk for a moment to calm down before he dialed the station. He wasn't sure if the engine crew would be back yet or not but at least he had managed to put some distance between himself and the smart-mouthed injured lineman.

E!

Mike shifted the engine into reverse and backed into the bay. The ride back to the station had been a silent one and in many ways that concerned him. He stepped down from the driver's door, the slamming sound echoing in the semi-empty bay, and he turned to his left. Marco's dark eyes were staring at him and he could see the concern reflected in them too. They both watched as Hank shuffled to his office knowing that he was going to call Rampart for an update but also knowing that he might not like the news he would get when he called.

Hank reached for the phone and was startled by its ringing. "Station 51, Captain Hank Stanley speaking."

"Cap, it's Roy…uh, listen Chet came into Rampart a little while ago with an injured foot. He…ah, Doc says he's gonna be off for a few shifts so you'll need to call in a replacement." Roy straightened up leaning his hips against the nurse's station, one arm wrapped around his mid-section.

Hank leaned an elbow on his desk resting his weary head in his open palm. "Is he, um…is he alright?"

"Yea, Cap…it's just a cut on the bottom of his foot. He's getting it stitched up now."

Hank nodded, realizing that his paramedic couldn't see it on the phone. "Ahem, ok…um, what about the men from 36's?"

Roy hung his head, closing his eyes as he mustered up the strength to tell his captain the bad news. "Um, Jacobs is still in surgery. He had a badly broken leg and some internal injuries…"

Hank could tell by the pause in Roy's statement that the more severely injured man hadn't survived but he had to ask the question anyway. "And Carrigan?"

Roy inhaled sharply. "He…he didn't make it, Cap. Severe head trauma." He said; his voice barely a whisper.

"I see," Hank leaned back in his seat, fighting the lump in his throat. "Uh…let Chet know I'm thinking about him and I'll…I'll call headquarters for a…a replacement."

Roy listened to the clicking sound on the other end of the line. He slowly turned around and replaced the receiver; he couldn't stop the worry he was feeling for his captain.

"So, is Captain Stanley calling in a replacement for Mr. Kelly?"

Roy looked up into the face of Nurse Sally Lewis, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. "Um, that was quick." He cast a glance at the treatment room where he had left Chet just a few moments earlier.

"Oh, he…uh, he requested some privacy with Dr. Harrison. Sort of kicked me out," she said with a pearly white smile.

"Hmmm…wonder why?" Roy mused leaning his hips against the counter again when another voice joined the conversation.

"Hey I just saw the squad out front…where's Chet?" Johnny's red rimmed eyes looked up at his partner; their previous disagreements during the shift all but forgotten.

Roy cleared his throat before he answered. "Ahem, he injured his foot….he's getting stitches now," Roy said pointing the handy talkie in the direction of treatment room 4.

Johnny arched an eyebrow at his partner. "After we left?"

Roy looked down at his feet then back up at his partner; his only response was a simple shoulder shrug.

"Oh…," Johnny began then hesitated when he heard the three beeps broadcast from the handy talkie.

BEEP…BEEP…BEEP….. "Squad 51, what's your status?"

Roy picked up the handy talkie. "Available."

"Standby for response," the dispatcher's voice called out.

Roy turned to Sally. "Let Chet know we'll take him home on our next trip in here, will you please?"

"Sure," she said watching the two paramedics quickly move in the direction of the emergency room door.

Inside treatment room four, Chet's breath hitched as he watched the young intern walk closer to the head of his exam table. "Ok, Mr. Kelly…it's just you and me in here now…what was it you wanted to tell me?"

"You promise you won't tell anybody? I mean…," Chet gulped unsure of how to proceed.

"Anything you tell me is held in the strictest confidence. Now, since your injury is job related, there may be a report to be made to your superiors. I'm still new here so I don't know all the protocols when it comes to the fire department but…unless you're a danger to yourself or to someone else, then whatever you tell me will remain confidential."

Chet took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment as though the answer to his predicament was written inside his eyelids. His smut-covered hands scrubbed across his eyes and cheeks causing his bright blue eyes to stand out in stark contrast to the filthy backdrop of his soot covered face. "That's just it, Doc..."