Warning: Hanky alert, violence and strong language

A House Divided – Chet's Cataclysm

Chapter 18

"Listen, Mike…Roy and I can make a supply run to Rampart and swing by his apartment. I mean, I don't think we can call it in just because he isn't answerin' his phone but," Johnny still had his thumb pointed over his shoulder when Mike met his concerned gaze.

"That might be a good idea. I just have a bad feeling about this. With the mood he's been in lately and the fact that he came by here this morning then left without telling anybody," he huffed loudly blowing out his cheeks, feeling the tension growing along his shoulders. "Damn it, why didn't I ask more questions when he called earlier?"

"You had no reason to…so don't worry about it." Johnny didn't want his engineer to be blaming himself for Chet's disappearance. "By the way, who was the chick who came by lookin' for him? Maybe she knows where he is?"

"Her name's Caroline Marks…looks kind of familiar but I just can't place her and Chet acted like he couldn't either. I'm thinking she might be a friend or relative of Carrigan's just stopping by to thank Chet for…for trying, you know."

"Mmm, makes sense I guess," Johnny propped a hand on his hip then turned towards the dorm door. I'll get Roy and we'll go by Chet's place while we're out." Johnny started walking then realized Mike was not behind him. He turned back around and softly spoke. "Stoker, you ok?"

"Yea…," he mumbled, knowing that the perceptive paramedic knew he was lying.

E!

Chet sat cross legged on the ground waiting for his father to find the right words to explain the rest of the story to him. The older Kelly man leaned back against the fence post, his mind taking his heart down memory lane.

Charles Kelly lay awake between the cool sheets, his new wife safe and secure within his loving arms. They had shared a wonderful evening together and now as their bodies lay entwined, Charlene laid her head on her young husband's chest fighting the tears. Each tick of the clock took them closer and closer to that dreaded hour when he would be taken away from her – possibly forever. Slowly, she caressed his hairy chest soaking in the feel and scent that was Charles Kelly; hoping she would be able to remember them during his absence and praying the separation would only be temporary.

Charles never wanted the moment to end. If there were just some way for him to stop the war and remain in the states, then life would be perfect. But, he had a duty to perform and he never wanted his wife and family to be ashamed of him. He bent his head down, kissing the top of Charlene's head, breathing in the scent of her shampoo on her strawberry blond curls. "I love you so much, sweetheart," he whispered then felt the tear that silently dripped over the bridge of her nose and onto his bare chest.

"I love you too. Please, promise me you'll come back to me…please, Chuck."

Charles lifted her chin with the crook of his finger and planted a tender passionate kiss on her pouty lips. "There's nothing I want more than to come back home to you. As long as there's a breath left in me, I'll be back."

The alarm on the clock sounded and Charles reached over his wife and slammed the ringer off with a whispered curse. He felt her tighten her hold on him; he didn't want to let go either. "I've got to go, Charlene. It's time."

She sniffled and pulled away from his chest, covering her nakedness with the sheet as she reached for the clothing she'd hurriedly left on the floor the night before. The three days they had spent together had been the most wonderful of her life and she'd always be grateful to Les for agreeing to accompany her to the East Coast. She'd never traveled outside of California so having a companion, her husband's best friend, make the trip with her had eased her fears.

Lester Blain had always thought of Charlene as his little sister. He had been an only child, growing up in a small town with overly protective parents. He was stricken with polio when he was a toddler and had grown up with a bit of a limp. He'd never been able to play sports like the other boys and had developed the personality of a class clown to make up for his lack of physical prowess. When his friends were all enlisting to join the war, he'd been rejected due to his impairment; an event that nearly crushed him. However, his heart was that of a servant so anytime anyone needed help, he was right there doing whatever he could on the home front. He'd stood beside Charles as his witness when he and Charlene had eloped so when Charlene had mentioned wanting to see Charles once more before he shipped out, Les had made the arrangements, using his own money to buy the bus tickets for the long trip, then making himself scarce so they could enjoy their time together privately.

Now Les stood staring at his best friend holding his wife in a tight embrace, tears streaming down her face. He knew Charles' heart was breaking but he also knew that the young soldier dared not show his emotions publically. When she finally relinquished her grasp on Charles' shoulders, the young soldier reached out his hand shaking the hand of his best friend. "Les, take care of her will ya?"

"You bet," was the only reply Les' emotion-laden voice could provide but it was all that mattered. He pulled Charlene into a sideways hug as they watched Charles sling his bag over his shoulder and turn away from them, swiping a hand down his ruddy cheeks.

The letter had arrived in April telling Charles that Charlene was expecting their first child in November. He resolved then to be extra careful so as not to be injured. He had a young family that needed him now. He reread the letter every day always refolding it carefully and placing it inside his left shirt pocket. The months that followed were harrowing and letters from home were sparse at best. He had received a few from his beloved letting him know that their little one was growing just fine according to the doctor and she began asking for ideas for names. The burden would fall on his wife in his absence but Charles didn't care what name she picked out for Baby Kelly as they were calling the unborn child. He just prayed that the infant would be healthy, that his wife would survive the experience alone and that one day he'd be able to hold the precious product of their love in his hands.

As the war raged on and the summer turned to fall, he received a letter from his wife that was the worst he'd ever read. Charlene's handwriting had been difficult to read, a testament to her state of mind as she penned the words. Les Blain had died from injuries sustained in an apartment fire when a wall collapsed. He had gone down the hallway, as fast as his limitations would allow, trying to save the single elderly occupant he thought was still inside. Although Les had been brought out alive by the firemen who arrived just as he became entrapped, he had burns over sixty percent of his body and severe smoke inhalation. He lingered between life and death for nearly ten days before finally succumbing to his injuries. Charlene had been at his side when he died even though so many people had told her that she needed to remain at home in her delicate condition. But, Charlene Kelly was a determined woman and she stood in the place where she knew her husband would have been if he had been able to be there. She held his hand watching the rising and falling of his chest, hearing the death rattle from the fluid filling his lungs and then felt his hand go limp as he drew his final breath. Mr. and Mrs. Blain buried their only child at the age of twenty-four years.

Charles wept upon learning of his friend's death and he wept even more for Charlene's suffering along with Les. He wanted to go home more than ever but he couldn't. He still had a job to do and the war was raging around the world. The next letter he received arrived on December 10, 1944. The child was a healthy boy weighing six pounds and eleven ounces with a head full of curly dark blonde hair. He had been born on November 22, at 2:15 am. Charlene had taken the 'CH' from both her name and Charles' name and combined it with the 'ESTER' from Les' formal name. The infant boy was named Chester Blain Kelly and he was the spit and image of his father according to the letter. Again, Charles wept for all he was missing out on back home and he wept tears of joy at the news that he had a healthy son and that mother and baby were doing just fine. He longed to hold them in his arms and he despised the fact that Les hadn't lived to see his godson; the child whose very existence was due to Les' escorting Charlene across the country for a final visit with Charles before he shipped out.

By the time Charles had finished telling Chet the story, night had fallen completely. They could barely see each other but they didn't need to. Chet reached over grasping his father's hand, sharing his strength with the older man. "Thanks, Dad…thanks for sharing this with me….I had no idea."

"I should've told you a long time ago but…the memories are just so damn painful," he sniffled, releasing Chet's hand to dry his own face. "There's more."

"Dad, if you don't want to tell me then,"

"No son…I need to tell you. See, when I found out that you were on the way, I sent Les a letter and asked him not to tell Charlene about it because it would upset her. I had asked him to take care of her the day that I left but I…I needed to know that…that you'd be taken care of too if…if I didn't come home."

Chet listened to his father's sniffles as he continued.

"I…I knew that Les was…was the kind of man who…who would love my child as much as I did so…I, uh…I asked him to…to step in and…and be a father to you if…if I couldn't be." His voice cracked then and he had to take a breath in order to compose himself and continue.

"Dad, I…I don't know what to say. I mean, you…you really cared about me even before I was born," Chet said, gently rubbing his father's back in a comforting measure.

"Son…I've loved you since I got that letter in April of '44. And, I know there's a lot of men out there who've done a helluva job raising children who weren't their flesh and blood but…I just knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that…that Les would take care of you just as good…hell, better…than I could and…I've…I've always wanted the best for you." Charles took a deep breath; the burden he was relinquishing was heavier than he'd imagined.

"Les musta been quite a guy…I…I don't know if I could do that…raise another man's child as my own, I mean. I wish I coulda met him."

"So do I, son…so do I." Charles dried his eyes and continued. "I want you to know why I've been such a…a hard ass all your life." He took a cleansing breath then began. "See, I was…um, captured a few days later and…well, they treated us like…like shit…no, worse than that even."

Chet felt his chest tightening. Did he really want to know what his father was about to tell him? He sat there mesmerized by the sound of his father's voice unable to shut out the pain he was hearing in it as the older man shook. "You, ah…you were a POW?"

Charles shook his head not even realizing that his son couldn't see the movement. "Being captured, totally at the mercy of another man, it…it does something to ya. We were stripped of our dignity and we felt like failures as soldiers…as men. Hell, we had failed or else we wouldn't have been caught in the first place. All I could think about during that time was you and Charlene. Les wasn't around anymore to take care of you two for me and…I knew that no matter what I had to endure, I had to stay alive and get back home. On December 17…we were walked out to what was supposed to be our executions. My heart was dying even before the bullets began because I knew that…I wouldn't be there for you and your mom but…neither would Les. I…I had failed you all and I was about to leave this world without ever holding you or…," He took a deep breath unable to continue that line of thinking.

"It's ok, Dad," Chet whispered, encouraging his father to take his time.

"Anyway, something went wrong and a couple of us escaped but…most died that day. Helpless, shot in the head or in the back as they ran. Somehow, I managed to get away with just a bullet hole in my upper arm," he continued gripping the place where the scar remained still feeling the pain after three decades.

"Da-ad," Chet's voice broke as he sought the right words to comfort his father.

"That's how I ended up back home, son. I've often thought that maybe Les was somehow watching and made a way for me to…to get away. We had to hide out for a few days waiting to be rescued and…I got a pretty bad infection. The first time I held you in my arms, I had it all bandaged up," he struggled to catch his breath remembering how he felt that day. "It should've hurt like hell for me to cradle you," he began, absently cradling his arms reminiscent of holding his infant son. "But I never felt anything but your tiny squirmin' body, lookin' up at me with those big blue eyes and then…you, ah…you smiled," he sniffled. "You grabbed a hold of my heart that day and…you've…you've had it ever since, son."

The silence between them lingered as the night air blew gently through Chet's hair. No words needed to be spoken; Chet wanted to allow his father's mind to remain within that memory as long as he needed it to. Some moments later, Charles turned toward his son. "But I wasn't the same man I had been when I left that morning in February. I was bitter and angry. I hated those bastards for what they did to us…to the ones who didn't escape. I felt like I had to prove my…my masculinity and…hell, Chet. I just wanted to control everything around me."

"That makes sense, actually." Chet hoped he could alleviate some of his father's unwarranted guilt.

"Well, it made sense to the shrink I saw a few years back too. I…I never wanted you and the other kids to know that…that I had to see a psychiatrist for…for all this."

"There's no shame in that, Dad. You went through hell and you made it back. I…I would've never known you if you hadn't escaped." Chet draped his arm across his father's shoulders and could feel him shuddering.

"I know, son…but sometimes….like tonight, I wonder if maybe that wouldn't have been best."

"Don't say that…Dad, I...I love you so much. I might get a little pissed off at ya but…I love ya, man. And I'm glad you're my father." Chet felt the shuddering increase as he said those words. He allowed the silence to continue for only a moment. Then he spoke. "Dad?"

"Yea?"

"Is that why you hate me bein' a firefighter?"

"Chet…my god, son…I don't hate that you're a firefighter. I just…," he exhaled loudly drooping his shoulders. "I just…I can't stand the thought of you…you dying the way Les did. The old man wasn't even home…the damn apartment was empty and he died anyway. Chet, that shit could happen to you too and then..."

Chet pulled his father in close holding him while he wept his bitter tears. "I…I can't lose you, son. I just can't. But it's not just that. I…I've heard the stories of firemen getting trapped in buildings and…and their comrades being unable to reach them and …." Charles had to catch his breath before continuing. "Son, I hid out listening to my brothers being murdered and I didn't do a goddamn thing to help them. My head knows that if I hada gone back then I would've died too but…that doesn't make those fucking screams go away!" he raised his voice clutching both sides of his head in his hands. "They're in my head and they'll always be there and…I don't want you to have to endure that…to live like this," he said reaching down and pulling up a clump of grass with his bare hands. "Most of your friends are firemen right?"

Chet didn't respond. Truthfully, he didn't know how to answer that question.

"I know they are and…son, I don't want you to go through something like that. I don't want you to become me in twenty years…seeing some head shrinker 'cause you didn't save your brothers in a crisis."

Chet gulped trying to swallow the lump in his throat. "Dad, no one coulda saved those men that day…not even you." He reached out grabbing father's hand as he continued to plow up the earth with his fingers. "The LA County Fire Department is one of the most advanced in the country. We have special training and equipment plus we have protective gear that Les didn't have on that night. We have paramedics now too so fewer people die from their injuries."

"I know son…you've, ah…you've told me all about that before and that does make me feel better. Actually, knowing that you know all this...everything… makes me feel a whole lot better," he said sniffling and drying his face with his shirt. "I just…I worry…'s all."

"Well, I have good news for you then, Dad. This morning I turned in my resignation. I quit. I'm not going to be fightin' any more fires. Now you and Mom won't have to worry anymore."

E!

"Tell me again what we're going to Rampart for?" Roy asked, pulling out of the station and making the right turn headed for their base hospital.

"We'll think of somethin' when we get there but we're goin' to Chet's place first." Johnny propped his left arm on the back of the seat as the cool night air blew his dark bangs. "Mike's been callin' him all day and he isn't answerin'."

"Well if he's not answering then maybe he isn't at home," Roy deadpanned.

"Yea…that's what we're hopin'."

"You don't think he'd do something, do you?" Now Roy was beginning to get an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"I don't know, Roy…I really don't know anymore," Johnny said looking back out the windshield with a faraway look in his eyes. "'Sides, we can always go by and check on Cap."

"Yea…you believe what Brackett said about him being dehydrated?" Roy cast a quick glance to his right.

"Nope…neither do you, huh?" Johnny asked as Roy turned into Chet's apartment complex.

"Nope," Roy said mimicking Johnny's own statement as he pulled the squad to a stop in a central parking spot and turned off the headlights.

Both men began looking around the building where Chet lived; his VW van conspicuously missing from its usual parking spot.

"Well," Roy began, surveying the sparse parking lot. "Guess now we know why Mike couldn't get him on the phone."

"Guess so," Johnny spoke into the quiet of the darkened cab of the squad.

Roy then cranked it back up, backing out of the spot before he turned on his headlights. The duo quickly made the trip to Rampart General, meeting Mrs. Stanley's blue edsel leaving the parking lot as they turned in. Roy quickly looked at his watch. "Oh yea…visiting hours are over."

Johnny jumped from the vehicle as soon as Roy put it into park. "I'll call Mike real quick and then we can go see Cap," he said fishing into his pocket for a dime.

Roy stood beside Johnny at the pay phone bank as he relayed the news to a very worried Mike Stoker. "Yea, nowhere in the parking lot…..humph, I hadn't thought about that…maybe he did go to visit them….um, we're gonna go check on Cap and then we'll see ya back at quarters….ok, bye."

Roy didn't have to ask for details of the conversation; he had pretty well followed it just by listening to Johnny's side. As soon as Johnny hung up the phone, the two of them headed for the elevator. Neither one noticed that Dr. Brackett had been watching them figuring they were headed upstairs and determined to follow them to protect the privacy of his patient.

E!

Hank lay in his hospital bed staring at the ceiling. His wife had gone home to rest knowing that he was in good hands. He was actually glad she had gone home because he hated seeing the worried look on her face. He looked at the IV tubing draped across the bed railing knowing that the only reason he was feeling any better was because Dr. Brackett had added some type of antianxiety medication to it earlier. He'd slept most of the afternoon and that was something he hadn't done since he'd learned of Kyle Carrigan's death. At least, the drug-induced slumber hadn't brought with it the nightmares he'd been experiencing. He felt the soreness on the back of his arm, remembering waking from one of the nightmares, thrashing wildly as his mind fought to enter the burning building to save the young man. His arm had crashed into the nightstand as he tumbled out of bed, not fully awakening until he'd rolled along the carpeted floor for a moment.

The sound of five swift knocks, mimicking the musical riff 'A Shave And a Haircut,' brought him out of his reverie.

"Come in." He really didn't feel like company but at this hour he figured it was his doctor making rounds.

"Hey, Cap…how ya feelin'?"

"Gage?" Hank asked surprised to see his two paramedics coming into his room at such a late hour.

"We ah…just thought we'd come by and see if you were feelin' any better?" Johnny asked, grinning.

"So are you?" Roy asked, handy talkie swinging from his wrist as he pocketed both hands into his navy blue uniform pants.

"Yea…just, ah…dehydrated so," he nodded his dark head up at the IV bag. "Giving me a fill up now."

"So I see, so I see. Good stuff, ya know?" Johnny said with a snicker, propping a hand on his narrow hip.

"Yea well…the mechanic here needs to check the ol' spark plugs and make sure the rest of the engine is working alright," he said with a half-smile, looking behind his men.

"Hi guys…did you leave me some business down in the ER?" Kelly Brackett knew the answer to that question. He had seen the two men enter the emergency room lobby, use the phone then head immediately upstairs. He figured Hank might not want to discuss anything with members of his crew so he decided to make his presence known.

"No, Doc…just came to check on our captain."

"Well Roy…we'll get him back to work soon," Kel said with a smile, pulling his stethoscope out of his pocket and proceeding to his patient's bedside. "Time for that spark plug check."

"Hey…take care, Cap," Johnny waved as he exited with Roy following.

Hank looked up at the dark haired physician. "I appreciate your timing, Doc."

Dr. Brackett patted the captain on the shoulder. "No problem, Hank. I just want you to feel better." He looked up at the nearly empty IV bag.

"I, ah…I think it's working, Doc."

"Glad to hear that…rest now and I'll check on you again tomorrow."

E!

I hope I conveyed the emotional talk between Chet and his father without it becoming too sappy or sounding too feminine. Thank you so much for reading this and especially for the encouraging PM's and reviews.